“I hate everyone asking if I’m okay!”
“I know.”
Matteo suddenly struck the wheelchair armrest.
“And I hate that Mom died!”
Silence filled the bedroom.
Vincent’s eyes opened.
Matteo’s face crumpled.
“I hate that she died and I didn’t!”
The words tore through the speaker.
Clara moved forward immediately and wrapped her arms around him.
“No.”
Matteo sobbed against her shoulder.
“She was right next to me.”
“No, Matteo.”
“She was right there!”
Clara held him tighter.
“You surviving was not a betrayal.”
Vincent stared at the screen through blurred vision.
“Do you understand me?” Clara whispered. “You did not take anything from your mother by living.”
Matteo trembled.
“You’re allowed to miss her.”
Clara pulled back enough to look into his eyes.
“But you are not required to die with her.”
Something changed in the boy’s face.
Not happiness.
Not yet.
Something smaller.
A decision.
He looked down.
His right foot rested on the towel.
Matteo gripped both sides of the wheelchair.
Then his toes curled.
The towel moved.
One inch.
Two.
Clara’s eyes filled with tears.
Matteo stared downward.
He laughed once in disbelief.
Then he started crying again.
Vincent rose from his chair.
For one irrational second, he wanted to run upstairs.
He wanted to throw open the door, lift his son into his arms, tell him that two inches were enough to rebuild an entire world.
Then Clara looked directly into the hidden camera.
Vincent froze.
There was no uncertainty in her expression.
She knew exactly where it was.
Clara reached up.
Her palm covered the lens.
Monitor four went black.
And through the microphone, Vincent heard her whisper:
“We don’t have much time.”
Twenty minutes later, Clara Hayes was sitting in Vincent Rossi’s office with two armed men standing behind her.
Dominic Bellini remained near the door.
For seventeen years, Dominic had been Vincent’s closest lieutenant, head of security, and the only man besides Vincent who knew every access code to the estate.
Clara seemed strangely calm.
Vincent was not.
“You knew about the camera.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Since my second day.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
Vincent leaned forward.
“How?”
“I saw the reflection from the lens housing.”
“That camera is smaller than a shirt button.”
“My husband installed surveillance systems.”
The room changed.
Vincent remembered the unexplained two-year gap in Clara’s employment record.
“Your husband.”
Clara nodded.
“His name was Aaron Hayes.”
Dominic looked toward Vincent.
Vincent saw the recognition.
“What?” Clara asked.
Nobody answered.
She looked from one man to the other.
“What?”
Vincent spoke quietly.
“Aaron Hayes worked for one of my security contractors.”
Clara’s expression tightened.
“I know.”
“He worked on this estate.”
“I know.”
“He also inspected the armored vehicle three days before the explosion.”
Clara’s hands curled in her lap.
“I know that too.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“Boss.”
Vincent raised one hand.
Not yet.
He kept his eyes on Clara.
“The investigators believed your husband tampered with the vehicle.”
