Chương 8
His expression changed.
He read silently for several seconds.
Valentina watched him carefully.
“She had nightmares after her mother died.”
Domenico looked up.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
The question was not cruel.
That made it harder.
Valentina continued.
“She stopped sleeping alone.”
Domenico lowered the papers.
“I was there.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“You were.”
The room became quiet.
“You slept beside her every night for months.”
Domenico remembered.
The small mattress beside his bed.
Ruby holding onto his shirt because she was afraid he would disappear when she closed her eyes.
He remembered being exhausted.
He remembered thinking that if he could get through those months, everything would eventually return to normal.
It never did.
Valentina touched the folder.
“But then you went back to work.”
Domenico looked at her.
“I had to.”
“I know.”
The answer surprised him.
“I know why you did it.”
She looked down.
“I am not saying you were wrong.”
The admission was unexpected.
“I am saying something changed.”
Domenico closed the folder halfway.
“What does this have to do with moving her room?”
Valentina hesitated.
The hesitation mattered.
“Because she told me she missed you.”
Domenico stared at her.
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
Valentina looked at him.
“Because she knew you were tired.”
That sentence hurt more than any accusation.
Children should not learn how to protect adults from their own feelings.
Domenico looked toward Ruby’s open bedroom door.
She was still coloring downstairs with Elena.
He could picture her carefully choosing colors.
Trying not to interrupt.
Trying not to be difficult.
“When she said that,” Valentina continued, “I thought you would leave me too.”
Domenico looked back.
“What?”
She gave a small, embarrassed laugh.
“You don’t understand.”
“No.”
His voice remained calm.
“I don’t.”
Valentina sat on the edge of the bed.
“After Ruby’s mother died, you became a different person.”
Domenico did not argue.
“You were kind.”
She looked at him.
“But you were gone.”
The words stayed with him.
Not because they were completely fair.
Because they were partly true.
“I was trying to survive.”
“I know.”
Valentina looked at the floor.
“I was too.”
The confession changed the room.
For a moment, they were not enemies.
They were two people who had failed in different ways.
Then Domenico looked at the folder again.
“Why the investigator?”
Valentina’s face changed.
The vulnerability disappeared.
“That was wrong.”
He waited.
“I know it was wrong.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Fear does not explain everything.”
“No.”
She nodded.
“But it explains the beginning.”
Domenico looked through the documents.
There were notes about Ruby’s behavior.
Concerns about anxiety.
Concerns about attachment.
Concerns about emotional development.
Some were legitimate.
Some were exaggerated.
The problem was that the truth had been mixed with a story Valentina wanted to tell.
A story where she was the only person protecting Ruby.
“You used real concerns to build a false case.”
Valentina did not deny it.
“Yes.”
The honesty caught him off guard.
“You admit that?”
“I have been trying to justify it for so long that I forgot what it looked like from the outside.”
Marcus stood quietly near the door.
He looked uncomfortable.
Domenico noticed.
“You knew about the medical records.”
Marcus nodded.
“I helped organize some of the files.”
“Why?”
Marcus looked ashamed.
“Because I thought I was helping.”
Domenico looked at him.
“You keep saying that.”
“I know.”
Marcus swallowed.
“I keep hoping saying it makes it true.”
Nobody spoke.
The sentence was more honest than he probably intended.
Domenico closed the folder.
“We need to discuss this with a professional.”
Valentina looked up.
“You mean lawyers.”
“I mean someone who can separate what happened from what we want to believe happened.”
She looked away.
“Do you think I am a bad mother?”
Domenico did not answer immediately.
The easy answer would have been yes.
The satisfying answer would have been yes.
But Ruby did not need him to create another person who only saw one side.
“I think you made choices that hurt her.”
Valentina’s eyes lowered.
“That is not the same question.”
“No.”
He paused.
“But it is the one that matters.”
She looked like she wanted to argue.
She did not.
That was new.
They returned downstairs an hour later.
Ruby was still sitting with Elena.
Her drawing was finished.
A large house with three windows.
A yellow door.
Flowers around the front.
Domenico crouched beside her.
“That’s beautiful.”
Ruby smiled slightly.
“The flowers are for Mommy.”
He looked at the picture.
“And the door?”
Ruby shrugged.
“So everyone can come in.”
Domenico felt the weight of the sentence.
Not because it was symbolic.
Because it was exactly what she believed.
A home was supposed to allow people inside.
Not make them prove they belonged.
That afternoon, Domenico made several calls.
Not dramatic ones.
Not angry ones.
Necessary ones.
He contacted a family attorney.
He contacted Ruby’s therapist.
He contacted the company that provided the investigator.
Each call created another problem.
Each problem required another decision.
The truth was not a clean thing.
It did not arrive and fix everything.
It created paperwork.
Conversations.
Uncomfortable meetings.
People asking questions nobody wanted to answer.
By evening, the mansion felt different.
Not peaceful.
Not yet.
But honest.
Valentina stayed in her room.
Marcus asked to leave.
Domenico did not stop him.
Before he went, Marcus stood near the front door.
“I know you hate me.”
Domenico looked at him.
“I don’t have enough energy for hate.”
Marcus nodded.
“That might be worse.”
“Maybe.”
Marcus opened the door.
Then he stopped.
“There is one more thing.”
Domenico waited.
“Daniel wasn’t just helping Valentina.”
A cold feeling moved through him.
“What do you mean?”
Marcus looked back.
“He was looking for something else.”
“What?”
Marcus shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Domenico stepped closer.
“Then why say it?”
“Because last night, after you found the folder, he called me.”
May you like
Marcus looked toward the dark driveway.
“He asked if you had found the second set of documents.”
