Chapter 2 - THE FILE THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
Matteo locked the study doors himself.
He sent both guards outside.
Then he took Nico from Liana only after the baby had fallen asleep.
Nico protested weakly but did not wake.
Matteo placed him in the portable crib near the fireplace.
Liana remained standing.
Delia stood opposite them with the black folder pressed against her chest.
Matteo held out his hand.
“Give it to me.”
Delia did not move.
“Sir—”
“Now.”
The folder changed hands.
Matteo opened it.
The first page held employment records.
Maribel Santos.
Age thirty-four.
Licensed infant-care specialist.
Six years of experience.
Emergency contact blank.
Forwarding address blank.
The agency named at the top did not exist anymore.
Matteo flipped pages faster.
“When did she start?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“When did she leave?”
Delia swallowed.
“September fifteenth.”
Liana’s heart slammed.
One day after Elias was born.
Matteo looked at her.
She had heard it too.
“Why?”
Delia spoke slowly.
“She said she had received a family emergency.”
“You told me she simply disappeared.”
“She did.”
“You just said she told you there was an emergency.”
“She left a note.”
“That is different from disappearing.”
“I couldn’t contact her afterward.”
Matteo dropped the folder onto the desk.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Delia’s eyes shifted toward Liana.
Matteo noticed.
“Speak.”
Delia looked older suddenly.
Twenty years older.
“Maribel knew something was wrong.”
“With Nico?”
“With his records.”
Silence.
Liana stepped closer.
“What records?”
Delia looked at her.
“The hospital records.”
Matteo’s hand flattened against the desk.
“You had no reason to examine his hospital records.”
“Maribel did.”
“Why?”
“She said there were inconsistencies.”
“What inconsistencies?”
Delia took a breath.
“Nico’s weight.”
Liana frowned.
Matteo stared.
“What about it?”
“The hospital discharge file lists him as six pounds, eleven ounces at birth.”
“That sounds right.”
“The pediatric record from forty-eight hours later lists his birth weight as seven pounds, nine ounces.”
Matteo said nothing.
Delia continued.
“There were different blood types entered.”
Liana’s stomach turned.
“What blood type?”
“One page said O positive.”
Matteo looked sharply at Delia.
“Nico is A negative.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody brought this to me?”
“I did not understand what it meant.”
“You understand numbers.”
“I thought it was clerical.”
“Until Maribel.”
Delia nodded.
“She kept asking questions.”
“What questions?”
“Whether anyone had compared Nico’s neonatal footprints with the hospital file.”
Matteo’s face darkened.
“And?”
“The prints in our family medical archive were copies.”
“Copies of what?”
“I don’t know.”
Matteo walked to a cabinet.
He unlocked it.
Inside were several leather binders.
He pulled out one marked N.V.
Liana watched as he opened it.
Vaccination documents.
Pediatric reports.
Insurance records.
Birth certificate.
Matteo stopped.
The birth certificate looked ordinary.
Nico Alessandro Varric.
Mother: Serena Varric.
Father: Matteo Varric.
Place of birth: Saint Aurelia Medical Center.
Date of birth: January sixth.
Liana’s breath left her.
January?
She looked at Nico.
Nine months.
Of course.
He could not be Elias.
Elias had been born only twenty-two days ago.
Reality struck like cold water.
For several minutes she had allowed grief to create an impossible story.
Nico was nine months old.
Her son would have been twenty-two days old.
She gripped the back of a chair.
Matteo noticed.
“What?”
“I was being irrational.”
“Explain.”
“Nico cannot be Elias.”
Matteo’s expression remained unreadable.
“He’s nine months old.”
“Yes.”
“My son was born three weeks ago.”
“Yes.”
Liana looked toward the sleeping baby.
“So whatever this is, it isn’t that.”
Relief should have come.
Instead, another question replaced it.
Why had Nico reacted to her?
Why the same birthmark?
Why Saint Aurelia?
Why had Delia gone pale when she heard the date?
Matteo turned back to Delia.
“Then why did September fourteenth scare you?”
Delia closed her eyes.
Liana’s relief vanished.
Matteo took one slow step toward the housekeeper.
“Delia.”
The older woman finally spoke.
“Because that date was written in Maribel’s note.”
Liana’s fingers tightened around the chair.
“What did it say?”
Delia looked directly at her.
“It said, ‘If anything happens to me, check September fourteenth at Saint Aurelia.’”
Matteo went utterly still.
“Where is the note?”
“I burned it.”
Liana stared.
Matteo’s face became frighteningly calm.
“You did what?”
“I panicked.”
“You destroyed evidence.”
“I did not know what it was evidence of.”
“You knew enough to remember the exact date.”
Delia’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Why burn it?”
“Because there was another sentence.”
Matteo waited.
Delia whispered, “She wrote your mother’s name.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Matteo’s voice dropped.
“My mother has been dead for twelve years.”
“I know.”
“What did Maribel write?”
Delia’s gaze moved toward Nico.
“Ask Vittoria Varric what she bought at Saint Aurelia.”
Matteo did not blink.
Liana looked between them.
“Who is Vittoria?”
Delia answered.
“Matteo’s mother.”
“But you just said she died.”
Matteo looked at Delia.
The older woman whispered, “That is what the world was told.”
Liana felt the hairs rise on her arms.
Matteo’s voice hardened.
“Leave.”
“Matteo—”
“Get out.”
Delia did.
The door closed.
For several seconds, Matteo remained facing it.
Liana watched him.
“You thought she was dead.”
“I buried her.”
“Did you see her?”
Matteo looked at her.
“That is not a question people generally ask.”
“I’m asking.”
His jaw flexed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Closed coffin.”
“Reason?”
“Car explosion.”
Liana looked toward Nico.
Matteo understood what she was thinking.
“No.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“You’re thinking my mother survived.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
Matteo turned away.
He walked to the window.
Outside, the estate grounds vanished into darkness.
Liana lowered her voice.
“Who was she?”
Matteo stayed silent.
Then he said, “The reason men were afraid of my family before they were afraid of me.”
Liana had read stories.
Everybody had.
Varric shipping.
Varric casinos.
Varric hotels.
Legitimate holdings spread across three states.
And whispers beneath all of them.
Matteo rarely responded to allegations.
No conviction had ever touched him.
But his mother had belonged to an earlier generation.
One with fewer cameras and fewer questions.
“She built half of what my father claimed credit for,” Matteo said.
“Then why fake her death?”
“I don’t know that she did.”
A sound came from the crib.
Both turned.
Nico was awake.
He wasn’t crying.
He had rolled onto his side.
His eyes were fixed on Liana.
She approached slowly.
“Hi.”
Nico smiled.
It was small.
Sleepy.
But unmistakable.
Matteo watched.
Liana crouched beside the crib.
“You scared everybody tonight.”
Nico reached between the wooden rails.
His fingers wrapped around one of hers.
Then Liana heard herself humming.
The tune came naturally.
Three rising notes.
Two falling.
A pause.
Then the same sequence again.
The lullaby her mother had sung.
The lullaby Liana had sung during pregnancy.
Matteo’s face changed.
“Stop.”
Liana froze.
“What?”
“Sing that again.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
She hummed the melody.
Matteo walked toward the bookshelf.
He removed a small digital player.
His hands were unsteady.
“What is that?”
He did not answer.
He pressed a button.
Static filled the room.
Then a woman began singing.
Liana stopped breathing.
The melody was identical.
Not similar.
Identical.
The same strange pause after the fifth note.
The same low turn before the refrain.
The same lullaby Liana’s mother had sung every night when she and her younger sister were children.
Liana stared at Matteo.
“Where did you get that?”
“My wife recorded it before she died.”
“Serena?”
“Yes.”
Liana stepped toward the speaker.
The woman on the recording continued singing.
Then she laughed softly.
A baby made a sound in the background.
The woman said something.
Liana’s face went numb.
The voice was not Serena’s.
It was a voice Liana had not heard for nineteen years.
A voice from another life.
A voice she had tried to find until every lead disappeared.
She grabbed the edge of Matteo’s desk.
“No.”
Matteo moved closer.
“What?”
Liana stared at the player.
The recording continued.
The woman whispered to the baby.
“Sleep, little moon.”
Liana began shaking.
Matteo caught her before she fell.
“Liana.”
She looked up at him.
“That isn’t your wife.”
He frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“I know that voice.”
“Whose is it?”
Liana looked toward Nico.
May you like
Her answer changed everything.
“My sister’s.”
