Chapter 6 - THE DOCTOR WHO DISAPPEARED
“Tell me where he is,” Dante said when Helen reported the conversation.
“I can't,” Helen answered. “The witness gave her information to investigators under conditions that protect her safety. We don't know the location ourselves.”
For a moment, Dante resented the answer. He was accustomed to making a call and receiving the information he requested. But the entire crisis had begun because people with money believed ordinary safeguards did not apply to them. He forced himself to stop pressing.
“Does he know what happened to Valeria?”
“Investigators intend to ask him. Be patient.”
Dante disliked patience. He practiced it anyway.
The former assistant, Alice Brennan, was interviewed by Detective Ortiz and a federal agent. She explained that Ricci had worked on the foundation's medical oversight committee. He had objected to a plan that allowed Bellwether Clinical to collect patient data and distribute certain study medications without a clear independent review process. When he threatened to report the proposal, people connected to Beatrice began pressuring him.
Then his daughter received threatening messages. Ricci believed the threats were credible enough that he left New York. A vehicle accident involving a man with similar identification was mistakenly reported as his death. Ricci used the confusion to disappear, aided by an old colleague, and had lived under another name ever since.
“Did he knowingly let people believe he was dead?” Ortiz asked.
“Yes,” Alice said. “He was frightened. I told him the deception would hurt people, but he said he couldn't risk his daughter's safety.”
“What did he know about the clinical program?”
“He knew the original consent safeguards had been weakened. He didn't know whether medications were being given improperly. He suspected the administrative records had been altered.”
“Could he have signed the memo after his disappearance?”
“No. He showed me a different version with his objections written across it. The signature on the copy you have may be false.”
Investigators arranged a secure interview with Ricci. He confirmed parts of Alice's account and provided a copy of his annotated memo. A forensic comparison would be necessary, but the handwritten objections undercut the suggestion that he had approved the disputed arrangement.
Meanwhile, the laboratory completed an initial examination of the syringe recovered from the ballroom. It contained traces of a prescription medication capable of causing a drop in blood pressure in certain circumstances. The exact way it had been administered to Valeria, if it had been, remained uncertain. Investigators were also checking who had legally accessed the medication at St. Catherine's and whether the syringe's contents matched the missing inventory batch.
A detective explained the findings to Valeria at her apartment. She had been discharged and was recovering under her physician's advice. Dante sat beside her, listening.
“Can you say who put it in my purse?” Valeria asked.
“Not from the contents alone. We have witness statements, security video and physical evidence under review. We are not ready to announce a conclusion.”
Valeria nodded. “I want to help, but I won't pretend I remember things I don't.”
“That is exactly right,” Ortiz said.
At the same time, Esteban's attorneys released a statement denying any wrongdoing. They claimed he had approached Valeria's handbag only to move it away from spilled liquid and that Lucía had misunderstood his actions. The statement further alleged that Valeria had a history of anxiety and had fainted before.
Valeria read it and felt sick.
“I had one fainting episode when I was sixteen,” she told Dante. “It happened after I donated blood. He knows that because I mentioned it at dinner last year.”
“It's a cruel distortion.”
“It's meant to make me look unreliable.”
She folded the paper, placed it in a folder, and sent it to her attorney. Dante noticed how different she was from the helpless figure on the ballroom floor. She was frightened but thoughtful, and she was refusing to surrender her own story.
He began to understand why Beatrice had underestimated her. Valeria wasn't interested in the glamorous part of the Moretti name. She wanted the foundation to do what it claimed to do.
Later that week, the independent board review began. The first witnesses were employees who handled program enrollment and billing. One testified that several consent forms appeared in the system after the patients had already received services. Another described receiving instructions to replace missing signatures with electronic entries. Neither claimed to know who had ordered the changes.
The board ordered a halt to new research enrollment pending regulatory review and arranged independent medical assessments for families who wanted them. Dante supported the suspension even though it threatened the acquisition and cost his companies millions.
Beatrice resigned from the foundation's chairmanship but insisted she had done nothing wrong. In a public statement, she accused Dante of sacrificing a family institution to satisfy his fiancée's ambitions.
He did not respond publicly. Helen advised him to let the evidence speak while the review continued.
Privately, the accusation hurt more than he expected. Beatrice had helped raise him after his mother's death. She had attended his school graduation and called every birthday. He tried to remember those years without letting the memories become an excuse.
He met Valeria on the balcony outside her apartment. The rain had stopped, leaving the city lights bright against the wet streets.
“Do you regret getting engaged to me?” she asked.
“No.”
“You've lost business, your aunt, and half the guests at our party.”
“I haven't lost my aunt. I've learned something about her that I wish wasn't true.”
“That's not the same as knowing everything.”
“No. It isn't.”
She turned toward him. “We need to be able to disagree. If we're going to marry, I need you to hear me before a crisis forces you to.”
He nodded. “Then we'll practice when life is quiet.”
Valeria leaned her head against his shoulder. Neither of them pretended the investigation had ended. But for the first time in days, they allowed themselves a moment without a question to answer.
Ricci's decision to disappear complicated everything. Although he had information about the foundation, he had also allowed a false impression of his death to persist, creating pain and confusion for people who had trusted him. Investigators explained that his statements would need independent corroboration. Dante struggled with that. He wanted the doctor to become either a hero or a villain, a simple figure who could clarify the story. Helen reminded him that frightened people often made imperfect decisions, and that the existence of one truth did not prove every claim surrounding it.
Valeria agreed. “We don't need to decide whether Ricci is admirable. We need to establish what he knew and what the documents show.” She paused. “The families whose children were enrolled don't care whether we like him. They care whether the records are accurate.”
That weekend, Isabel took Lucía to the library near her sister's apartment. The children's librarian was holding a small craft session. Lucía selected purple paper and carefully folded it into a house with a blue roof. She asked whether she could make a door that opened and closed. The librarian showed her how. When Isabel suggested they return the following week, Lucía smiled for the first time in days without glancing toward the window. Later, Isabel told the counselor about the visit. The counselor encouraged more ordinary activities, especially ones Lucía could choose for herself.
At the mansion, the remaining staff were unsettled by Carmen's interview and the rumors spreading around the foundation. Dante met with them briefly, accompanied by a human resources representative. He told them they would not be asked to spy on one another or disclose private conversations to him. Anyone with relevant information could contact investigators or independent counsel. Several employees exchanged surprised looks. The household had long operated on an unspoken rule that family concerns should stay within the walls. Dante was deliberately dismantling it.
A message from Ortiz interrupted it.
The camera outside the private study had been restored from a backup system. The image was grainy, but it showed Esteban entering the corridor with Valeria's handbag. Beside him stood a second person wearing pink shoes.
Dante opened the still image. Beatrice's face was turned away from the camera.
But the third person reflected in the study's glass door was unmistakable.
May you like
Carmen.
When the evening ended, Valeria suggested a walk around the block. Dante asked her doctor-approved limits before agreeing; she laughed at his sudden caution but appreciated that he listened. They moved slowly past storefronts and a bakery closing for the night. Neither spoke of the foundation until Valeria stopped beneath a streetlamp and said, “I don't want every conversation between us to become testimony.” Dante nodded. “Neither do I.” She told him about a book she had started reading. He admitted he hadn't opened a novel in years. They argued good-naturedly about whether its ending sounded predictable, and the ordinary disagreement felt like the beginning of something healthier than their old habit of avoiding conflict.
