Chapter 3 - Julia’s Last Secret

The island appeared through morning fog.

Rock.

Pine trees.

One abandoned house.

Vincent had never been there.

Anna had.

Seventeen years earlier.

With Michael.

With Thomas.

With every lie that followed.

The ferry docked.

Henry stayed near the boat.

Vincent walked with Anna toward the house.

I followed.

No one stopped me.

Inside, dust covered the floor.

Anna went directly to a locked cabinet.

She removed a key from her necklace.

Vincent stared.

“You’ve kept that for seventeen years.”

“Yes.”

She opened it.

Inside was a recorder.

Three envelopes.

One photograph.

Vincent picked up the photograph.

Michael Bellini.

Anna.

Julia.

Together.

He froze.

“My two mothers knew each other.”

Anna nodded.

Vincent looked at her.

“When?”

“Before you were born.”

The room went silent.

Anna sat down.

“Julia was my friend.”

Vincent stared.

“She raised me.”

“Yes.”

“Because my grandfather took me from you.”

“Yes.”

“Did she know I was yours?”

“Yes.”

Vincent’s expression hardened.

“So she participated.”

Anna began crying.

“At first.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your grandfather told Julia I had abandoned you.”

“But she knew me.”

“She believed I left.”

Vincent laughed bitterly.

“Everyone believed exactly the lie that made them convenient.”

Anna nodded.

“Then Julia found my letters.”

“When?”

“When you were four.”

Vincent stopped.

“One year before she died.”

“Yes.”

“She knew you were searching for me.”

“Yes.”

“What did she do?”

Anna pushed one of the envelopes toward him.

Julia’s handwriting.

Vincent opened it.

Anna,

I was wrong.

He deserves to know you.

But if Michael tries to bring him to you now, his father will destroy all of us.

Vincent read it twice.

“His father.”

“My grandfather.”

“Yes.”

Anna continued.

“Julia planned to tell you when you were older.”

“But she died.”

“Yes.”

“Then Dad found the letters.”

“Years later.”

“How?”

“In Julia’s storage box.”

Vincent looked at the recorder.

“And that’s when he found you.”

“Yes.”

“He wanted to bring me to you.”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t he?”

Anna looked toward the window.

“Because Julia left another letter.”

Vincent opened the second envelope.

Michael,

If you find this, your father has already threatened Anna.

He told me Vincent will lose everything if Anna returns.

Not money.

Safety.

Watch Thomas Morel.

He is not acting alone.

Vincent stared.

“Thomas wasn’t alone.”

“No.”

“Who was with him?”

Anna looked at the recorder.

“Michael found out on this island.”

Vincent pressed play.

Static.

Then Michael’s voice.

“Anna, if this works, Vincent will never need to know what we did.”

Vincent stopped the recording.

“What you did?”

Anna closed her eyes.

“Keep playing.”

Michael’s voice continued.

“Thomas arrived first.”

“He brought the account ledgers.”

“He admitted my father paid him.”

“He said someone else had been moving money through Morel companies.”

Vincent’s jaw tightened.

“Who?”

The recording answered.

“My brother.”

Vincent froze.

His father had one younger brother.

Adrian Bellini.

Vincent’s uncle.

The man who took over several family businesses after Michael vanished.

The man sitting at the engagement dinner the previous night.

Vincent whispered:

“Uncle Adrian.”

Anna nodded.

Michael continued.

“Adrian knew Anna was alive.”

“He knew I found her.”

“He told Thomas that if I brought Vincent to her, he would expose accounts tied to my father and make Vincent responsible for them one day.”

Vincent stared.

“He threatened me with crimes I hadn’t committed.”

“Yes.”

“At seventeen?”

“Yes.”

Michael’s voice continued.

“I agreed to disappear long enough to move the accounts away from Vincent.”

“I thought it would take months.”

“It took years.”

Vincent closed his eyes.

Then:

“Why Canada?”

Anna answered.

“Because Adrian controlled people in New York.”

“And my father?”

“He stayed with me.”

“For fourteen years.”

“Yes.”

“Until he died.”

“Yes.”

Vincent looked at the third envelope.

“Then what is this?”

Anna didn’t answer.

He opened it.

A death certificate.

Michael Bellini.

Three years earlier.

Cause:

Heart failure.

Vincent stared.

Then noticed something.

Place of death:

Portland, Maine.

Rebecca had said Anna lived in Maine.

Vincent looked at her.

“You stayed together until he died.”

“Yes.”

“Did he ever want to contact me?”

“Every day.”

“Did you stop him?”

Anna shook her head.

“No.”

“Then who did?”

A floorboard creaked.

Someone stood in the doorway.

Thomas Morel.

Rebecca’s father.

He had followed us.

Vincent stared.

Thomas looked older than he had the night before.

He held Rebecca’s envelope.

Vincent’s voice hardened.

“You.”

Thomas shook his head.

“No.”

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He placed the letter on the table.

“Adrian.”