Chapter 5 - The Second Witness
At the Romano mansion, Vittorio did not sleep.
Lucy did.
Eventually.
She lay curled in his bed with Elena’s old music box beside her pillow.
A child psychologist named Dr. Rebecca Sloan arrived before dinner.
Vittorio had never met her before.
That was deliberate.
His attorney, James Whitaker, had recommended someone with no connection to the Romano family.
Rebecca spoke to Lucy privately for twenty-three minutes.
Then she met Vittorio in the library.
“You need to understand something,” Rebecca said.
He sat opposite her.
“Tell me.”
“Your daughter believes she is responsible for adult happiness.”
Vittorio’s face tightened.
“She’s six.”
“I know.”
“She shouldn’t even understand that concept.”
“She does because someone repeatedly taught it to her.”
He looked toward the door.
“Bianca.”
“Lucy named Bianca several times.”
“Marcus?”
“Less directly. She described him laughing during punishments and helping Bianca hide things.”
Vittorio swallowed.
“Did they hit her?”
Rebecca answered carefully.
“Lucy described being grabbed, pushed, isolated, denied meals, humiliated, threatened with abandonment, and frightened into silence.”
Every word felt like a verdict.
Vittorio stood and crossed toward the fireplace.
Rebecca allowed the silence.
Finally he said, “I should have seen it.”
“Yes.”
He turned.
The blunt answer surprised him.
Rebecca continued.
“That doesn’t make you responsible for Bianca’s choices. But it does mean your daughter will need more than hearing you say sorry once.”
Vittorio nodded slowly.
“I’ll do whatever she needs.”
“Then start by believing her even when what she says is inconvenient.”
He looked at her.
Rebecca continued.
“Children in coercive environments often reveal information in fragments. Some details may sound strange. Some memories may come out of order.”
“What are you telling me?”
“She mentioned another woman.”
Vittorio frowned.
“Who?”
“She doesn’t know the name.”
“What woman?”
“Someone she saw arguing with Marcus near the greenhouse.”
“When?”
“Several months ago.”
Vittorio sat again.
“What did Lucy hear?”
Rebecca checked her notes.
“She remembers the woman saying, Elena warned me about you.”
Vittorio felt a chill.
“Did Lucy describe her?”
“Older. Gray coat. Red scarf. Walked with a cane.”
Emma was summoned.
The moment Vittorio described the woman, Emma knew.
“Margaret Vale.”
“Who?”
“Elena’s former accountant.”
Vittorio stared.
“Elena had an accountant?”
“Personal forensic accountant. Quietly.”
“Where is she?”
Emma hesitated.
“She retired after Elena died.”
“Why didn’t I know this?”
“Elena kept the investigation private.”
Vittorio’s frustration surged again.
Four years of hidden doors.
Hidden letters.
Hidden people.
“Find her.”
James Whitaker, standing beside the bookshelves, was already searching.
“Margaret Vale, age sixty-three. Former partner at Vale and Dean Forensic Accounting.”
He scrolled.
“Current address outside Providence.”
Vittorio grabbed his coat.
James blocked his path.
“No.”
“Move.”
“You are angry, sleep deprived, and one bad decision away from giving Marcus’s lawyers ammunition.”
“I’m going to ask a woman questions.”
“You’re Vittorio Romano. When you show up angry at someone’s home after midnight, it doesn’t look like asking questions.”
Vittorio stopped.
James was one of the few men willing to speak to him that way.
“Then call her.”
James found a number.
Disconnected.
Another.
No answer.
Emma spoke from near the door.
“There might be another way.”
She returned to Elena’s study and brought back a photograph album.
Inside was a picture of Elena standing beside Margaret at a charity run.
On the back, Elena had written a note.
M.V. knows where the river ends.
James read it twice.
“What does that mean?”
Vittorio knew.
“There’s a property.”
“What property?”
“River End Cottage.”
It had belonged to Elena’s grandmother.
Vittorio had sold it after Elena’s death.
Or thought he had.
James searched property records.
His eyebrows rose.
“It wasn’t sold.”
Vittorio looked at him.
“What?”
“It was transferred.”
“To whom?”
James rotated the laptop.
A private holding company had acquired the cottage.
Owner of the holding company: Margaret Vale.
Vittorio stood.
This time James did not stop him.
Three vehicles left the Romano estate shortly after midnight.
Vittorio rode in the first with James.
Two security officers followed in another car.
The third vehicle carried Emma, who insisted on coming.
They reached River End Cottage at 1:37 a.m.
The property stood beside a dark stretch of water surrounded by bare trees.
One upstairs light was on.
Vittorio knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
A voice came from inside.
“Who is it?”
“Vittorio Romano.”
Silence.
Then multiple locks opened.
Margaret Vale appeared.
She was sixty-seven now.
Gray hair.
Red scarf.
Cane.
The same woman Lucy had described.
Margaret stared at Vittorio.
Then at Emma.
Her expression hardened.
“You took long enough.”
Vittorio almost laughed from disbelief.
“You knew I was coming?”
“No.”
“Then what does that mean?”
May you like
Margaret opened the door wider.
“It means Elena expected you four years ago.”
