Chapter 8 - THE GARDEN WHERE HIS MOTHER WAITED
Dante refused to meet his aunt alone.
He told her he would speak through attorneys or with investigators present. She accused him of humiliating the family. He answered that the family had already endured enough harm caused by secret conversations.
Beatrice hung up.
Twenty minutes later, a message arrived from her attorney saying she wished to make a voluntary statement. Detective Ortiz arranged a recorded interview with counsel present. Dante did not attend.
Beatrice arrived wearing a dark coat and no jewelry. The detective placed the evidence in front of her: the restored camera stills, the altered foundation documents, the internal communications, and the laboratory inventory records.
At first Beatrice denied everything.
She said the foundation had trusted outside medical experts. She said Esteban handled research contracts. She said Valeria misunderstood the paperwork. She said Carmen had invented the threats because Teresa was worried about her job.
Then Ortiz showed her a message sent from Beatrice's private phone on the day of the engagement.
The bride has to be discredited before the board votes. Make the scene unmistakable.
Beatrice looked away.
“My lawyer will answer further questions,” she said.
The attorney asked for a break. When they returned, Beatrice admitted that she had coordinated with Esteban to undermine Valeria's credibility. She claimed she did not know he intended to drug her and said she believed the syringe would merely be planted as a prop to create suspicion.
Ortiz noted the distinction without endorsing it.
“Why put it in her purse at all?”
“To make the board believe she had been taking medication secretly. Esteban said people would connect that to her fainting history.”
“Her fainting history consisted of a single episode when she was a teenager.”
Beatrice gave a small, bitter laugh. “People don't read medical histories carefully when they want a simple story.”
“What did you know about the missing research medication?”
“I knew Esteban had requested additional doses. He told me the hospital would account for them later.”
“Did you know the family foundation was billing for services not supported by valid consent forms?”
Beatrice hesitated. “I knew there were documentation problems. I believed they could be corrected.”
The detective asked about Isabella Moretti's archived letter opposing such arrangements.
Beatrice's composure finally cracked.
“My sister-in-law wrote that letter because she thought the foundation should remain small. She didn't understand what we could accomplish with institutional funding.”
“She understood informed consent,” Ortiz replied.
“She was dying,” Beatrice said sharply. “She didn't understand the realities of running a major foundation.”
For the first time, she sounded less like a frightened woman than someone resentful of a person who could no longer defend herself.
The interview ended with investigators seeking additional records. Beatrice remained free while prosecutors assessed the evidence, but she was ordered not to contact witnesses. Esteban's position was more serious. His communications, the recovered video and financial records prompted formal criminal charges related to the suspected medication tampering, evidence planting and healthcare fraud. His attorneys denied the allegations and stated he would contest them.
Valeria learned the news from her lawyer. She sat for a long moment in the quiet of her apartment.
“So it's going to court,” she said.
“Likely. That means testimony, challenges and a long process. Not every issue will be resolved quickly.”
Valeria nodded. “Then we do it properly.”
Dante arrived that evening with dinner in plain paper containers. He had stopped trying to impress her with expensive gifts. She appreciated that he asked what she wanted before ordering.
They ate at her small kitchen table and discussed everything except the investigation for almost an hour. She told him about a childhood summer at her grandparents' farm. He described learning to cook pasta badly under his mother's supervision. They laughed when he admitted he still could not make a sauce without burning the garlic.
Then Valeria put down her fork.
“I don't know when I'll be ready to plan another engagement party.”
“We don't need one.”
“I know. But I want you to understand this isn't only about what happened to me. I need to trust the life we'd build together.”
“You mean whether I'll let my family make decisions for us.”
“Yes. And whether I'll be expected to stay quiet because your business has a reputation to protect.”
He looked at her. “You won't.”
“You've said that before.”
“I have. So watch what I do, not what I promise.”
She nodded slowly. That was an answer she could accept.
Meanwhile, Lucía's counselor encouraged Isabel to keep ordinary routines. They baked cookies, read stories and visited her aunt's garden. When Lucía asked about the man with the silver buttons, Isabel told her the police were handling the matter and that she would be informed if there were any safety concerns.
One afternoon, Lucía drew the ballroom again. This time she drew herself holding Captain Buttons, Valeria on the floor, and a man in a tuxedo with a large hand. At the edge of the picture, she included a pink shoe.
Isabel didn't ask her to explain. Instead, she asked whether she wanted to hang the drawing on the refrigerator or put it in her own folder.
“The folder,” Lucía said. “I don't want to see it every day.”
Isabel kissed the top of her head. “That's a good choice.”
At St. Catherine's, the independent review found that the stolen inventory entry had been created using an access credential assigned to an employee who had left the hospital. Teresa's and Isabel's identities had been used in parts of the digital audit trail without their authorization. Both women were cleared by the internal review, though the broader criminal inquiry continued.
The hospital restored Isabel's access and pay. Teresa was invited back to work with additional safeguards. The foundation established a confidential process for affected families to obtain records and independent medical consultations.
Carmen resigned from the Moretti household. She said she needed time to repair the relationships her silence had damaged. Dante offered a reference that truthfully described her years of service, but he did not ask her to remain. She had chosen to cooperate, and that mattered; it did not erase the choices she had made before.
On her last day, Carmen visited the little chapel near the house where Isabella Moretti used to sit.
“I was afraid,” she whispered into the empty room. “And I let that fear make me cruel.”
She left without asking for forgiveness.
After Beatrice's interview, Ortiz spoke with Carmen again about the instructions she had received. Carmen remembered Beatrice describing Valeria as “an obstacle who believes she can embarrass our family with paperwork.” She had assumed the threat referred to a public dispute. Only later did she understand that the plan involved fabricating a scene meant to damage Valeria personally. The detective compared the account with messages recovered from the foundation office.
Carmen then asked whether she could write to Isabel. Ortiz said she could request permission through counsel but should not contact potential witnesses about the case. Carmen followed the advice. She wrote a short apology without describing testimony or asking for anything in return. The letter remained unsent until investigators approved a safe route for it.
At home, Dante opened a box of his mother's correspondence. He found birthday cards, notes from clinic administrators and a letter thanking Isabella for funding a child's rehabilitation without asking the family to participate in publicity. The letter was signed by two parents who had never met her in person. Dante placed it beside Ricci's letter. The messages reminded him that the foundation's original value had not been the Moretti name on a building. It had been the ability to give families care without forcing them into gratitude.
He asked Helen to make sure the audit included input from people affected by the program and not only from financial experts. She agreed, warning that participation must be voluntary and confidential. He told her he wanted that written into the process, even if it slowed the schedule. The decision delayed a planned board announcement. For the first time, Dante did not mind the delay.
That night, Dante received a letter from Dr. Ricci. It described the last conversation he'd had with Dante's mother. Isabella had warned that money might corrupt the foundation once she was gone, but she hoped her son would one day understand why its purpose mattered.
At the bottom, Ricci had written:
Your mother believed protecting children required more than giving money. It required listening when someone without power said something was wrong.
May you like
Dante read the sentence twice. Then he thought of Lucía standing alone in a ballroom full of people who did not want her to speak.
Dr. Ricci's letter included a small photograph of Isabella standing beside a hospital mural painted by children. In the picture she was smiling, but Dante noticed how tired she looked. He placed the photograph on his desk and called his mother's former assistant, who remembered the day it was taken. Isabella had refused to allow cameras into the treatment rooms, the assistant said, because she believed families deserved dignity more than the foundation needed publicity. Dante had heard that story before and forgotten it. He promised himself that the reorganized foundation would have an enforceable privacy policy, not merely an attractive statement on its website.
