Chapter 3 - THE BROTHER I NEVER KNEW
I had spent thirty-eight years believing I knew my family.
My father had been dead for twelve years.
My mother had been dead for nine.
There had been no siblings.
No secrets.
No missing children.
No brother.
Yet someone had just told me Clara knew one existed.
I called the only person who could answer.
My father's old attorney.
He didn't pick up.
I called again.
Nothing.
Then I called the family archivist.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Mr. Valente?”
“Do you know anything about another Valente child?”
Silence.
That silence told me everything.
“What did you just hesitate for?”
“I don't understand.”
“You do.”
Another pause.
“Where are you?”
“Northwestern.”
“Is Clara alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps you should hear this from me.”
“Talk.”
“My father received a letter thirty-nine years ago.”
“What letter?”
“A birth certificate.”
My stomach tightened.
“Whose?”
“A boy.”
I closed my eyes.
“What was his name?”
“Daniel.”
I almost dropped the phone.
Daniel Valente.
My father had once mentioned that name.
I had thought it was a childhood friend.
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Who does?”
“Your father did.”
“He's dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then who else?”
The archivist whispered:
“Your mother.”
“She died nine years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because your father ordered everyone to keep silent.”
I hung up.
Mateo was standing nearby.
He had heard enough.
“You have a brother?”
“Apparently.”
“Alive?”
“I don't know.”
He stared at me.
“What does that have to do with Clara?”
“I don't know.”
We returned to the crash investigation.
The black sedan remained the key.
Then Mateo found something.
A partial license plate.
It led to a company registered to Lorenzo Moretti.
I felt relief.
At least one answer made sense.
Moretti had attacked Clara.
But when we searched the company records, we found something strange.
The company had been inactive for seven years.
Someone had recently reopened it.
Who?
Daniel Valente.
My brother.
I stared at the screen.
“No.”
Mateo looked at me.
“What?”
“Someone wants me to think this is Daniel.”
“Maybe it is.”
“Then why leave so many clues?”
Mateo frowned.
“To lead you somewhere.”
Exactly.
Someone wanted me angry.
Someone wanted me hunting.
And while I hunted, they could do something else.
My phone rang.
The hospital.
I answered immediately.
“Mr. Valente?”
“Yes.”
“Your wife is awake.”
Everything stopped.
I ran.
The intensive care room was dim.
Machines surrounded Clara.
Her face was swollen.
One eye was bruised.
Bandages covered her forehead.
But she was alive.
I stood beside her bed.
“Clara.”
Her eyes opened slowly.
She stared at me.
For a moment, there was no recognition.
Then she whispered:
“Why are you here?”
My throat tightened.
“Because you're my wife.”
She smiled faintly.
“No.”
“What?”
“You're here because you're guilty.”
I had no defense.
She looked away.
“I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“About Serena.”
I swallowed.
“I can explain.”
“No.”
Her voice was weak.
“But I didn't go to the South Side because of her.”
I froze.
“Then why?”
Clara looked at me.
“Because I found something.”
“What?”
“Your father.”
“My father is dead.”
“I know.”
She closed her eyes.
“He left something behind.”
“What?”
“A son.”
My heart stopped.
“Daniel?”
She nodded.
“How do you know?”
“Because he contacted me.”
I stared at her.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Why?”
“He said he knew what happened to your family.”
“What happened?”
Clara's breathing became shallow.
“He said your father didn't die naturally.”
I felt the room disappear.
“What?”
“He was murdered.”
“By whom?”
She looked toward the door.
Then whispered:
“Your mother.”
I couldn't speak.
Clara gripped my hand weakly.
“Dominic…”
“Yes?”
“Don't trust anyone.”
“Who?”
She looked at me.
“Not even the woman you think you're protecting.”
Her eyes closed.
The monitor began beeping faster.
I called for the nurses.
May you like
But before they rushed in, Clara whispered one final sentence.
“Serena knows.”
