Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Anya

B ertrand sits on a bench in the staffroom of the rehabilitation center with his legs kicked out in front of him, balancing the box of doughnuts I brought on his lap.

“Always loved these,” he says, picking out the one with the strawberry icing.

“How are things going? It’s been too long. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I was snowed under with, well, having a baby and running a business while my husband recovered.”

He bites into the doughnut and hums his approval. “You don’t have to apologize. I know your life has been crazy. How is that little princess of yours? Claire, right?”

I’m sure my whole face must light up. “She’s amazing. But you haven’t answered my question. How are you doing?”

“Same old. Nothing much changes around here.”

I motion at his bicep. “How’s your arm?”

“It was just a shallow cut. She couldn’t do much damage with that blunt knife.”

My cheeks heat with embarrassment for my mom’s behavior. Bertrand has only been good to her. That was a shitty way to repay him. “I’m so sorry it happened.”

“Not the first time.” He takes another humongous bite and says around the pastry in his mouth, “It’s probably not the last.”

“Don’t say that,” I exclaim. “I’ll worry for you.”

He finishes the rest of the treat in two big bites and dusts his hands. “Any word from her?”

I rub my palms over my thighs. “She came to the house twice, asking for money and a place to stay, but I don’t trust her around Claire.”

I briefly relay the ultimatum I gave my mom as well as what Saverio told me, that she wanted to see us and that she claimed to have a job and an apartment.

Coming to the end of my story, I frown. “It doesn’t make sense. She’s up to something.”

“Mary has never been enthusiastic about anything, at least not since you moved her in here.” Bertrand tips his head sideways and glances at the ceiling as if deep in thought. “Come to think of it, she had a strange look about her ever since your cousin visited. She almost had a feverish light in her eyes. She didn’t just seem excited. She appeared downright ecstatic.”

“Hold on. Back up one second. My cousin?”

“Yeah.” He gives me a quizzical look. “Tall guy, brown hair, dark eyes, fancy suit?”

“But…” I stare at him, confused. “I don’t have a cousin. My mom has no other family but me.”

“Are you sure?” he asks slowly.

“Of course I am.”

He closes the box. “We’ll have footage of him on the security camera.” Pushing to his feet, he says, “Come.”

I follow him to the office where he leaves the box on a table with an urn and mugs before waking up the computer on his desk. “He came around the day after your wedding. I presumed it was to reassure her after the attack that was all over the news. Let me find the recording for that date.” Fingers flying over the keyboard, he continues, “Now that I think of it, Mary escaped the very day after his visit. I didn’t put two and two together at the time, but now it seems strangely related.”

I hold my breath while he opens a folder and plays a video. After fast-forwarding a few times, he freezes the frame.

“There.” He points at the screen. “That’s the guy.”

I lean closer, and then I go cold.

Dear God.

It can’t be. Yet there he is, staring straight at the camera with a smirk on his face.

My head spins. Suddenly dizzy, I grab the edge of the desk to support my weight.

“Do you know him?” Bertrand asks, studying me with a concerned expression.

“That’s Raphael Morelli,” I say, my voice hoarse, “my husband’s worst enemy.”