Chapter 63 A LINK.
\~~~LUCIANO MORETTI.
“Are you sure there is nothing bothering you?” I asked, watching Raina as she slipped on her wristwatch and reached for her bag.
She paused, then turned to face me. “What is it to you?” she asked, closing the space between us .
Without hesitation and without warning, she leaned down and tugged my shirt up, her fingers cool against my skin as she took a quick look at the wound on my side.
I didn’t flinch, neither did I stop her.
I just watched her.
Her brows drew together in concentration, lips pressed tight as if she was some professional medical personnel and not a woman who had learned all this from a tv show.
Her fingers hovered, careful, inspecting the bandage like something would go wrong if she overdid.
There had been a change in her and I didn’t need anyone to tell me that.
Raina had always been expressive in her own quiet way, annoyed when she was annoyed, and angry when she was angry. Now, everything felt muted, and controlled. Like she was holding herself together with sheer will.
The night she had snatched her phone off the table during dinner, just because a message came in, had not left my mind. It wasn’t normal. Not for someone who usually left her phone lying around like it meant nothing.
And yet, every time I asked, she insisted nothing was wrong.
Last night, Alessia had called me.
That alone was strange.
“Are you mistreating her?” she had demanded the moment I answered.
I straightened immediately. “I didn’t do anything to her.”
“Then why does she look like she is falling apart?” Alessia snapped. “If you’re treating her badly, Rafael, I will take her away from you myself.”
I knew she meant it. Alessia hated abuse in every form. She didn’t joke about things like that.
“Did something happen?” I had asked. “Did she tell you anything?”
But Alessia only scoffed. She told me it shouldn’t bother me and that I should focus on treating her well. Then she ended the call.
Alessia wouldn’t have called if something hadn’t happened. That much, I knew.
“It doesn’t need to be dressed for now,” Raina said suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
She straightened and met my eyes.
“So when will we be redressing it?” I asked.
“Maybe tomorrow,” she replied quickly. “I’m late for work.”
With that, she grabbed her bag and walked out, her steps rushed, like staying any longer would cost her something.
I remained where I was, staring at the doorway she had just passed through.
The room felt quieter than it should.
Raina was hiding something.
And God, she was terrible at hiding emotions.
Her eyes lingered too long when she thought I wasn’t looking. Her hands shook when she believed I wouldn’t notice and she asked questions she never used to ask, and avoided answers she would normally give without thinking.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t small.
And whatever it was, it had her scared.
\~~~
Viktor stood in front of my desk, his shoulders straight, and his face serious.
I leaned back in my chair, fingers tapping my index finger on the armrest.
“So?” I asked calmly. “What did you find?”
Viktor exhaled slowly. “I found a link, boss. A solid one this time around between Ms. Elena… and Arthur Monroe twenty years ago.”
My tapping stopped and I sat upright, “What kind of link?”
Instead of answering, he stepped forward and placed a thin brown file on my desk. It landed softly, but the sound echoed in my head.
“Here,”
I grabbed the file and then opened it.
The first thing I saw was a photograph and my jaw tightened.
Elena Moretti.
She stood beside a man I would recognize anywhere, Arthur Monroe. The picture looked old, and slightly faded at the edges. They were elegantly dressed and seemed to be at a charity gala, judging by the background.
Elena’s hand rested lightly on his arm, not intimate, but familiar. I flipped the page and there was another picture of them in a different city and a different year.
There was another page, another photo, a different angle and events, and yet the same result.
My chest tightened as I scanned the notes attached to each picture. There were dates, locations, and event names.
They hadn’t just met once.
They knew each other very well.
“Well,” I muttered, closing the file halfway. “Finally.”
Viktor nodded. “That was my reaction too.”
I looked up at him. “How did you find this?”
“There was a discrepancy in the old police archive,” Viktor explained. “Twenty years ago, there was a fire. It supposedly destroyed all records connected to Ms. Elena and Arthur Monroe. Officially, nothing survived.”
“Supposedly,” I repeated.
“Yes,” he said. “But one clerk didn’t buy that story.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“He copied some files before the fire,” Viktor continued. “Photographs, event records, and even attendance lists. He said he didn’t know why but there was a feeling that it might matter someday.”
“Smart man,” I said quietly.
“He kept everything hidden,” Viktor added.
“Where is he now?”
“He is dead. After he died, the files were passed to his daughter. She stored them in a rented unit. She didn’t understand what they meant, only that her father said they were important.”
“And she wanted money,” I guessed.
“Yes,” Viktor replied. “A lot of it. So I gave it to her before she released it.”
I scoffed faintly and looked back down at the photographs. My fingers tightened around the edges of the file.
“Where is she now?” I asked.
“She took the money and disappeared,” Viktor said. “She is legally clean, by the way, and she didn’t ask questions.”
I nodded slowly and returned my attention to the file.
“So,” Viktor continued, breaking the silence, “I’ve also started digging deeper. I am checking the CCTV footage from that period. It will take time, twenty years is a long stretch but I believe something will turn up.”
“Good,” I said.
“There are also old phone logs,” he added. “Some audio recordings. Most of them are damaged, but I’ve sent them for restoration. If we’re lucky, we will recover something useful.”
I closed the file completely and leaned back in my chair.
Elena Moretti, my mother.
Eighteen years ago, Arthur Monroe put a bullet in her chest and walked away like her life meant nothing.
I had spent years believing it was a clean story. That it was simple, and just for power.
But these pictures said otherwise.
They told a different story.
Elena was my mother, and Arthur, Raina’s father.
Arthur Monroe wasn’t just my mother’s killer.
Perhaps, her lover, too.