Chapter 9 - Why Julia Was in the File

I stared at the photograph.

“That was my first day.”

Dante looked at the back.

A date.

A note.

PLACEMENT CONFIRMED.

Marina stepped away from me.

Frank looked confused.

“Placement?”

My mouth went dry.

“I applied through an agency.”

Dante’s eyes remained on mine.

“Which agency?”

“Lakeview Domestic Staffing.”

Marina pulled out her phone.

“No website.”

I swallowed.

“There was one.”

Frank took the photograph.

“Who interviewed you?”

“A woman named Mrs. Hale.”

Dante looked at Antonio’s old files.

Robert.

Victor.

False names.

False deaths.

False companies.

Everything suddenly felt contaminated.

Grace touched my arm.

“Did you know any of them before this job?”

“No.”

Dante’s voice was calm.

“Julia.”

I looked at him.

“I swear.”

He believed me.

But he still asked:

“Why you?”

I did not know.

Then Frank found a second photograph.

My mother.

Twenty years younger.

Standing beside a car.

With Frank.

He stared.

“I know her.”

My knees weakened.

“What?”

Frank pointed.

“Your mother was a nurse at Saint Catherine.”

Grace looked at the picture.

Her face changed.

“Anna.”

I turned to her.

“You knew my mother?”

Grace nodded slowly.

“She helped me after I arrived at the convent.”

I could barely speak.

“My mother died when I was nine.”

Frank looked at me.

“How?”

“Cancer.”

Grace shook her head.

“She left Saint Catherine suddenly.”

Dante searched the drawer.

A file.

ANNA HART.

Inside was an employment record.

Nurse.

Saint Catherine Convent.

Twenty-nine years earlier.

The same year Dante was born.

Then a note.

A. HART SUSPECTED OF RETAINING DUPLICATE RECORDS.

Frank whispered:

“Records of what?”

Grace answered.

“Births.”

Dante stared at me.

I felt cold.

“My mother never told me.”

Grace looked at the file.

“She may have been the person who kept proof Dante was alive.”

Marina found another paper.

A storage unit receipt.

Paid annually.

For twenty-eight years.

Under Anna Hart’s name.

The last payment had been made automatically six months earlier.

I stared.

“My mother has been dead eighteen years.”

Dante looked at the address.

A storage facility outside Madison.

Frank whispered:

“Victor must have found the account.”

Dante looked at my photograph again.

“And arranged for Julia to work in my house.”

Marina frowned.

“Why?”

Dante answered.

“To see whether she knew what was in the unit.”

I shook my head.

“I didn’t even know it existed.”

Grace looked at me.

“Your mother protected something.”

We drove to Madison that afternoon.

The storage company required identification.

My name.

My mother’s name.

Her death certificate.

Dante’s lawyer handled the rest.

Unit 214.

The lock was old.

Inside were three boxes.

No furniture.

No clothes.

Just records.

The first box contained copies of Saint Catherine intake forms.

The second contained photographs.

The third contained a cassette recorder.

And one sealed envelope.

TO JULIA.

My hands started shaking.

I opened it.

My mother’s handwriting.

Julia,

If you are reading this, then someone found you because of what I kept.

I sat down.

Grace stood beside me.

Dante did not move.

I continued reading.

Twenty-nine years ago, a young woman named Grace Blake arrived at Saint Catherine after being told her newborn son had died.

I looked at Grace.

She was crying.

My mother’s letter continued.

I discovered the child had not died.

The hospital transfer record had been falsified.

I copied everything.

I gave one copy to a man named Edward Collins because he claimed he wanted to expose the truth.

That was my mistake.

Frank closed his eyes.

Dante whispered:

“Edward.”

I kept reading.

Edward worked for Victor Moretti.

When I realized it, I hid the original records.

Years later, Robert Blake found me.

He begged me not to expose the truth because he said Victor would kill Grace and the boy.

I agreed to stay silent only if Grace was left alone.

I was a coward.

But I kept the evidence.

Grace took my hand.

There was one final paragraph.

If Dante Moretti ever learns the truth, give him the cassette.

His father recorded it before the crash.

Dante stared at the recorder.

Frank inserted the tape.

Static.

Then Antonio’s voice.

Ten years younger.

“If this recording is being heard, I failed.”

Dante stopped breathing.

Antonio continued.

“Victor is planning to fake his death. Robert is helping him because Victor has evidence connecting Robert to Elena’s crash.”

Marina began crying.

The tape continued.

“I have also learned Victor intends to force a future merger between Dante and Marina Blake.”

Dante looked at Marina.

“Neither of them knows.”

The room went silent.

“If they meet, it must be by choice. If they marry, it must be by choice. No agreement signed by me should ever be used to bind them.”

Dante closed his eyes.

Antonio continued.

“I signed documents under threat. They are invalid.”

Frank whispered:

“There.”

Then one final line.

“And if Grace is alive, tell her I never stopped looking.”

Grace broke.

She covered her face.

Dante stopped the tape.

No one spoke.

Then Marina looked at him.

“What happens now?”

Dante looked at the blue blanket.

Then at the ring she had removed.

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Then at me.

“Now we finish it.”