Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW ROSALIE’S MOTHERDante asked Grace to come to his study alone.
She sat across from him.
A photograph of Isabella rested on the desk.
“You said she told you something before she died.”
Grace nodded.
“I need every detail.”
“I told you.”
“No.”
Dante leaned forward.
“I need where. When. What she sounded like. What happened before and after.”
Grace stared.
Then understood.
“This is an investigation.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure there’s anything to investigate.”
“I am.”
Grace exhaled.
“She called me.”
“From where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Time?”
“Late afternoon.”
“Exact date?”
“Three days before the accident.”
Dante wrote it down.
“What did she say first?”
Grace closed her eyes.
“She asked how Nathan and Eli were.”
“Then?”
“She said she was worried about Rosalie.”
“Why?”
“She said people around your family made decisions too easily.”
Dante frowned.
“What decisions?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Did she name Victor?”
Grace’s eyes opened.
“No.”
“Doctors?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“No.”
“What exactly did she say?”
Grace thought carefully.
“She said, ‘Dante trusts deeply once someone earns it. Sometimes too deeply.’”
Dante went still.
Grace continued.
“She said, ‘If anything ever happens to Rosalie, don’t let him accept the first answer just because it comes from someone he trusts.’”
Dante looked away.
The sentence was even worse now.
Not generic.
Specific to him.
His weakness.
Trust becoming blindness.
“What else?”
“She said she was probably being dramatic.”
“Isabella never said that unless someone had made her feel dramatic.”
Grace looked surprised.
“You knew her well.”
“She was my wife.”
Silence.
Dante continued.
“Did she sound afraid?”
“No.”
“Suspicious?”
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know.”
He leaned back.
“Did she tell you why she called you?”
Grace hesitated.
“She said I was outside the family.”
Dante’s stomach tightened.
“Meaning?”
“She wanted someone who didn’t depend on you.”
That hurt.
But it made sense.
Everyone around Dante depended on him somehow.
Salary.
Protection.
Status.
Access.
Grace did not.
Isabella had chosen someone outside the system.
Someone he didn’t even know.
Dante looked at the photograph.
“What did you do with the warning?”
“Nothing.”
“Why?”
“Because Isabella died three days later.”
Grace’s eyes filled.
“And then life happened.”
She looked ashamed.
“I thought about calling you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“You were grieving. There was no event involving Rosalie. It sounded paranoid.”
Fair.
Again.
Dante rubbed his face.
“Then Rosalie got sick.”
“You mean injured?”
Dante looked up.
“What?”
Grace frowned.
“I thought it was an accident.”
Dante became still.
“It was.”
“What kind?”
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
He realized how little of Rosalie’s medical story was actually public.
“She collapsed after a horseback riding fall.”
Grace’s face changed.
“Isabella hated horses.”
Dante stared.
“What?”
“She told me once she never wanted Rosalie riding.”
“That changed.”
“When?”
“After Isabella died.”
“Who encouraged it?”
May you like
Dante already knew.
Victor.
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