Chương 6
“Because nobody ever proved how she died.”
Mabel felt a chill.
“What about my grandmother?”
“She left everything behind.”
“That is not the same.”
“No.”
Dante’s voice lowered.
“It is not.”
A quiet knock came at the door.
Dante looked toward it.
A woman entered carrying a small stack of documents.
She appeared to be in her forties, dressed professionally, with tired eyes and the expression of someone who had spent years cleaning up other people’s disasters.
“Sorry,” she said.
“I did not know you had someone here.”
Dante nodded.
“This is Mabel Quinn.”
The woman looked at Mabel.
Recognition crossed her face.
Only briefly.
But Mabel noticed.
“You know me?”
The woman hesitated.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Mabel looked at Dante.
He noticed too.
“This is Elena Brooks,” Dante said.
Elena placed the documents on the desk.
“I brought the records you requested.”
“What records?” Mabel asked.
Dante opened the folder.
“Your grandmother’s employment history.”
Mabel stared.
“How did you get that?”
“Public records.”
She looked at the pages.
Some were copies of old newspaper articles.
Others were employment documents.
Her grandmother had worked as a translator for several international firms.
Nothing seemed unusual.
Until Mabel saw a name repeated.
Salerno Holdings.
Her stomach tightened.
“My grandmother worked for Victor.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
Dante looked at the document.
“Seven years.”
Mabel sat back.
She had known there was a connection.
But knowing was different from seeing it written.
“Why did she never tell me?”
Nobody answered.
That was the worst answer.
Mabel picked up another page.
A resignation letter.
The date was twenty years earlier.
The signature was Eleanor Quinn’s.
“I don’t understand.”
Dante watched her.
“What?”
“She quit.”
“Yes.”
“Then why was she still involved?”
His expression changed.
“You know she was?”
Mabel froze.
She had said too much.
“I found notes.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“What kind of notes?”
She looked away.
The old instinct returned.
Protect information.
Protect yourself.
Dante noticed.
“You do not trust me.”
“No.”
The answer surprised him.
Then she continued.
“I don’t know you.”
A small silence followed.
Then Dante nodded.
“That is fair.”
She looked at him.
“You keep saying that.”
“What?”
“That things are fair.”
“Because they are.”
“No.”
Mabel shook her head.
“That is not how people like you usually talk.”
“What do people like me usually do?”
“They decide what is fair after they already win.”
For a moment, Dante said nothing.
Then he looked down.
“I have heard worse.”
“I’m sure you have.”
The corner of his mouth moved slightly.
Not a smile.
Something close.
Elena watched them carefully.
“You should know something,” she said.
Mabel turned.
“What?”
Elena looked at Dante.
He did not stop her.
“The letter was not the only thing missing.”
Mabel waited.
“After Eleanor disappeared from Victor’s company, several documents vanished.”
“What documents?”
“Financial records.”
“About what?”
Elena hesitated.
“Payments.”
“To who?”
“That is what nobody could prove.”
Mabel looked at the photograph.
“My grandmother was investigating him.”
“Yes.”
“And your mother.”
“Yes.”
“And Victor knew.”
Dante nodded.
Mabel stood.
She needed to move.
Sitting still made everything feel too close.
“My grandmother spent the last years of her life knowing someone was dangerous.”
Dante did not correct her.
That bothered her.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“But you did nothing.”
The accusation came out before she could stop it.
Dante accepted it.
“I was younger.”
“That is not an excuse.”
“No.”
The answer made her angry.
She wanted him to defend himself.
She wanted him to give her a reason to hate him.
Instead, he simply accepted the blame.
“I was trying to survive,” he said.
The sentence changed the anger slightly.
Not removed.
Just complicated.
Mabel looked at the floor.
Everyone in this story had a reason.
That was the problem.
Reasons did not erase damage.
They only explained how people convinced themselves to keep going.
Her phone vibrated.
She looked down.
Another unknown number.
Dante noticed.
“Do not answer.”
Mabel stared at him.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“No.”
He looked at the phone.
“But I can tell you what happened the last time someone answered that number.”
Her hand stopped.
“What?”
Dante looked at Elena.
Elena looked away.
That was enough.
Mabel answered.
“Who are you?”
No one spoke.
Then a familiar voice came through.
Not the same person from the restaurant.
An older voice.
A tired voice.
“Mabel.”
Her face changed.
She knew the voice.
Not because she had heard it recently.
Because she had heard it years ago.
From a voicemail saved on an old phone that no longer worked.
Her grandmother’s voice.
“Mabel, listen carefully.”
The room disappeared.
She pressed the phone closer.
The voice continued.
“If you found the number, then they know you found it.”
Mabel stopped breathing.
Dante moved closer.
But he did not touch her.
He understood something important.
This moment belonged to her.
The recording continued.
“Do not trust the man who says he wants the truth.”
A pause.
A small breath.
Then Eleanor’s final words came through.
“Especially if he believes he deserves to control it.”
The call ended.
The call ended, but nobody moved.
Mabel kept the phone against her ear even though there was no sound left.
She waited for something else.
Another sentence.
Another warning.
Anything that would make the world return to the way it was five minutes earlier.
Nothing came.
Only silence.
Dante was the first person to speak.
“What did she say?”
Mabel lowered the phone slowly.
She looked at him.
The question felt wrong.
Not because he asked.
Because she suddenly wondered how many times he had asked someone else the same thing.
How many secrets had passed through his hands before they reached her.
“She left a message.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mabel.”
She looked away.
“I don’t know.”
Her voice cracked slightly.
Not from crying.
From frustration.
May you like
She hated that people kept asking for answers she did not have.
Her entire life had been built around not knowing.
