Chapter 42 The Gun in her hand
Flora
I watched Rafael's face go white as he listened to Catherine on the phone.
"She killed herself," Catherine's voice came through the speaker. Cold. Bitter.
My chest tightened.
Eva killed herself?
But that didn't make sense. Nothing made sense anymore.
First, we thought Eva was shot during the attack from Rafael's rival family. Then Isabella confessed to killing her. Now Catherine was saying Eva took her own life?
What was the truth?
"You're lying," Rafael said into the phone. His voice shook. "Eva was shot during the attack from the Morellis."
"You're lying," Rafael said into the phone. His voice shook. "Eva was shot in the crossfire. During the attack from the Morellis."
"Is that what you tell yourself?" Catherine's laugh was cruel. "Is that the story you've been clinging to for five years?"
"It's the truth," Rafael insisted. "We were ambushed. Eva got caught in the crossfire. She died in my arms."
"She died in your arms, yes," Catherine said. "But not from a stray bullet, Rafael. Eva shot herself with your own gun right in front of you."
Rafael stumbled backward. His face went ashen.
"No," he whispered. "No, that's not…"
"You blocked it out," Catherine interrupted. "The trauma of it. The guilt. You rewrote the memory. Made it more bearable. But I know the truth. Eva told me what she was planning to do."
My hands were shaking. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying Eva used the attack as cover," Catherine explained. "The Morellis were shooting. Everyone was in chaos. And in that moment, Eva grabbed Rafael's gun and shot herself. She made it look like she was hit in the crossfire. But she wasn't. She chose to die. To escape him."
"The autopsy," Rafael said desperately. "The autopsy would have shown…"
"Would have shown what?" Catherine asked. "Gunpowder residue? There was gunpowder everywhere that night. Bullet trajectory? Everything was chaotic. The scene was contaminated. And I made sure it stayed that way."
Rafael sank into a chair. "You paid off the medical examiner."
"I paid off everyone I needed to," Catherine said simply. "To make sure the truth stayed buried and you lived with the guilt of thinking Eva died because you couldn't protect her. When really, she died because she couldn't stand you anymore."
I felt sick.
Was any of this true? Or was Catherine just twisting the knife deeper?
"I don't believe you," Rafael said. But his voice lacked conviction.
"Don't you?" Catherine asked. "Then explain this, Rafael. Why was Eva's fingerprint the only one on the gun? Why were there powder burns on her hand in a pattern consistent with firing, not being shot? Why did the bullet enter at an upward angle, like she was holding the gun herself?"
Rafael's hands covered his face. "Stop."
"You knew," Catherine pressed. "Deep down, you knew. That's why you didn't think twice when you saw Lucia, Eva’s perfect copy."
"Please," Rafael whispered. "Please stop."
But Catherine wasn't done.
"You want to know what Eva's last words to me were?" Catherine asked. "Three days before she died? She said, 'Mama, I can't do this anymore. I'd rather be dead than spend one more day as Rafael's prisoner.' And I told her to be patient. To wait. That I'd help her escape. But Eva was done waiting."
Tears streamed down Rafael's face.
I'd never seen him like this.
"So she used the attack," Catherine continued. "The perfect opportunity. She knew Rafael would blame the Morellis. Would start a war to avenge her. Would never suspect the truth. And for five years, it worked. Until I decided it was time for you to know."
"Why?" I asked. "Why tell him now?"
"Because revenge is sweeter when the victim understands why they're suffering," Catherine said. "Rafael needs to know that Eva hated him so much, she chose death. That's the legacy he left her with. That's what his love did to my daughter."
Rafael looked at me. His eyes were red and empty.
"Is it true?" he asked. "Did I drive Eva to suicide?"
I didn't know what to say.
I didn't know what was true anymore.
"Let's meet," Rafael said into the phone. His voice was hollow. "You want revenge? Fine. I'm here. Take it. Just... please. Let's end this."
"No," Catherine said. "Not yet. We meet when I say so. On my terms."
"Then when?" Rafael demanded.
"Tonight," Catherine said. "At the warehouse where the attack happened. You know the one."
Rafael closed his eyes. "The east docks. Warehouse twelve."
"Yes," Catherine confirmed. "Come alone, Rafael. Just you. If I see anyone else, if I even suspect you brought backup, there will be consequences."
"What kind of consequences?" I asked.
"Marco is with you at the hospital, isn't he?" Catherine's voice turned icy. "Such a loyal friend. It would be a shame if something happened to him."
Rafael's eyes flew open. "Don't you dare…"
"Tonight," Catherine interrupted. "Warehouse twelve. Come alone. Or Marco dies. And Flora dies. And anyone else who gets in my way."
The line went dead.
Rafael stared at his phone.
Silence filled the room.
Finally, I found my voice. "She could be lying. About all of it. Trying to mess with your head."
"What if she's not?" Rafael whispered.
"Then it doesn't change anything," I said. "Eva's still gone. And Catherine is still trying to destroy you."
"It changes everything," Rafael said. He looked at me. "If Eva killed herself because of me... if I drove her to that..."
"You can't think like that," I said firmly. "Even if it's true, it was Eva's choice. Not yours. You didn't pull the trigger."
"I gave her the gun," Rafael said. "Metaphorically. I made her life so unbearable that death seemed like the better option."
I grabbed his hands. "Listen to me. We don't know what's true. Catherine could be manipulating facts. Twisting memories. Creating doubt where there shouldn't be any."
"Or she could be telling the truth," Rafael said.
"Maybe," I admitted. "But either way, we need to focus. Catherine wants you at that warehouse at midnight. It's obviously a trap."
"I know," Rafael said.
"Then don't go," I pleaded.
"I have to," Rafael said. "For Eva."
"You'll die," I said. "Catherine isn't going to just talk and let you walk away. She wants you completely destroyed."
"Maybe that's what I deserve," Rafael said quietly.
"Stop it!" I stood up. "Stop wallowing. Stop letting her win. Catherine wants you broken and guilty and ready to give up. Don't give her that satisfaction."
Rafael looked at me for a long moment.
"You're right," he said finally. "You're absolutely right."
He stood up and started pacing.
"We need a plan," he said. "We need to know the truth about Eva's death before I walk into that warehouse."
"How?" I asked.
"The gun," Rafael said. "Eva's gun. It should still be in evidence. If we can get it tested again, properly this time, without Catherine's influence..."
"We'd know if Eva shot herself or was shot," I finished.
"Exactly," Rafael said.
He pulled out his phone and made a call.
"Detective Morrison," he said when someone answered. "It's Rafael Valserro. I need a favor. A big one."