Chapter 6 - The Funeral Had Been Paid for Before Alessio’s Grandmother Died

Police arrived twenty minutes later.

Victor did not resist.

He did not need to.

He believed evidence could still be controlled.

Then Valentina gave detectives the flash drive.

Victor stopped smiling.

Dr. Cross gave them his files.

Irene gave them the ledger.

Sebastian gave them his statement.

Anthony gave them the 2018 letter.

Maria gave them the false death notices.

And Alessio gave them Victor’s surveillance archive.

One detective opened an old financial file.

He frowned.

“Mr. Moretti.”

Alessio looked up.

“We found a payment.”

“To who?”

“A funeral home.”

Anthony went still.

“What date?”

The detective read it.

“Four days before Alessio’s grandmother died.”

Silence.

Alessio stared.

“My funeral was arranged before she died?”

“Yes.”

Maria whispered:

“No.”

The detective continued.

“Small coffin.”

“Closed casket.”

“Private burial.”

“Paid by a Hale Foundation account.”

Anthony’s face hardened.

“He planned it.”

Alessio looked at Victor.

The old man sat across the room in handcuffs.

“You didn’t react to my grandmother’s death.”

Victor remained silent.

“You were waiting for it.”

Still nothing.

Anthony stepped forward.

“How did she die?”

Alessio turned.

“Stroke.”

Irene looked uneasy.

Everyone noticed.

Alessio stared at her.

“What?”

The retired nurse swallowed.

“She was treated at St. Catherine’s.”

“Yes.”

“I worked there before the private clinic.”

Alessio’s expression changed.

“You saw her.”

“Once.”

“When?”

“The night she died.”

Maria covered her mouth.

Alessio stepped closer.

“What happened?”

Irene closed her eyes.

“She had a stroke.”

He exhaled.

Then Irene continued.

“But it was not fatal when she arrived.”

Silence.

Anthony whispered:

“What are you saying?”

“She was stabilizing.”

Victor looked up.

For the first time.

Irene saw it.

Her voice shook.

“Victor came to the hospital.”

Alessio stared at him.

Irene continued.

“He claimed he was family.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know.”

“That is not enough.”

“I was called to another floor.”

“When I came back, your grandmother had arrested.”

Anthony’s face hardened.

“Cardiac arrest?”

“Yes.”

“Medication?”

“I don’t know.”

Victor laughed softly.

Everyone turned.

“You people want one villain for every tragedy.”

Alessio walked toward him.

“Did you kill her?”

Victor met his eyes.

“No.”

Alessio studied him.

Victor continued.

“She was already dying.”

Irene whispered:

“That is not what the chart said.”

Victor looked at her.

“You were a nurse.”

“Yes.”

“Not God.”

“No.”

She stepped closer.

“But I know the chart was altered.”

Silence.

Victor’s face changed.

The detective stood.

“Altered by whom?”

Irene looked at Dr. Cross.

Valentina’s father went pale.

Alessio stared.

“Doctor.”

Dr. Cross shook his head.

“Not me.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Samuel Voss.”

Anthony whispered:

“Victor’s physician.”

“Yes.”

Victor closed his eyes.

The detective wrote the name down.

Dr. Cross continued.

“Voss died nine years ago.”

Anthony asked:

“Did he work at the hospital that night?”

“Yes.”

Alessio’s jaw tightened.

Victor said:

“You will never prove anything.”

Alessio looked at him.

“Maybe.”

Then at the detective.

“But we can prove the fake funeral was prepaid.”

“Yes.”

“And the false death notice.”

“Yes.”

“And the intercepted letters.”

“Yes.”

“And the surveillance.”

“Yes.”

“And Sebastian’s attack on my father.”

Sebastian spoke from across the room.

“Yes.”

Victor stared at his son.

Sebastian did not look away.

Alessio returned to the table.

Maria sat beside the old childhood photograph.

She touched it.

“I hated myself for believing the funeral.”

Alessio looked at her.

“You had a coffin.”

“Yes.”

“A newspaper notice.”

“Yes.”

“A photograph.”

“Yes.”

He sat across from her.

“What did you do after?”

Maria stared at her hands.

“I stopped using your name.”

Alessio’s face softened slightly.

“Why?”

“Because saying it made me feel like I was killing you again.”

Anthony looked away.

Alessio asked:

“And Dad?”

Anthony answered:

“I said it every day.”

Maria looked at him.

“I know.”

Alessio stared at both.

For thirty-two years, he had imagined dead parents.

For twenty-two of those years, they had imagined a dead son.

No one in the room had escaped Victor’s lie.

Not really.

Then the detective returned.

“One more thing.”

Alessio looked up.

“We found an envelope inside the funeral payment file.”

He handed it over.

On the front:

TO ALESSIO, WHEN HE IS OLD ENOUGH.

The handwriting belonged to his grandmother.

Alessio froze.

He opened it.

Inside was one sentence.

If anything happens to me, do not trust Victor Hale with your life, your money, or your name.

Alessio closed his eyes.

Anthony whispered:

“She knew.”

Alessio nodded.

“Yes.”

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Then he looked at Victor.

“And she tried to warn me.”