Chapter 8 – A GHOST FROM TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO

Matteo didn’t yell.

He quietly closed the study door, walked over, and picked up the ledger from the floor.

He read the entries. Then he took the train ticket from my trembling fingers.

He stared at the date, his jaw tightening until the muscle ticked.

“My mother didn’t run away,” Matteo said, his voice hollow. “Someone put her on that train.”

“And my father knew who did it,” I whispered, wiping a tear from my cheek. “Price Investigations. My dad, Arthur Price, was a private investigator before he walked out on my mother and me when I was a baby. I never knew him. I swear to you, Matteo, I didn’t know.”

Matteo looked at me. The betrayal in his eyes was fleeting, quickly replaced by a cold, calculating determination.

He remembered how I had stood between Daniel and Isla. He chose to trust me.

“Get your coat,” Matteo said. “We’re going to the hospital.”

Thirty minutes later, Matteo and I walked into my mother’s private recovery room.

My mother, Sarah, looked up from her book, surprised. “Hannah? Mr. Bellandi? What’s wrong?”

I walked to the side of her bed. “Mom, I need you to tell me the truth about Dad.”

Her smile vanished. “Arthur? I haven’t spoken to him in twenty-five years. You know that.”

Matteo stepped forward. He placed the vintage train ticket on her tray table.

My mother looked down at it.

All the color drained from her face. Her breathing hitched, and she pressed a hand to her chest.

“Where did you get this?” she gasped.

“Daniel Mercer’s ledger,” Matteo said softly. “Sarah, please. If you know what happened to my mother, you have to tell me.”

My mother closed her eyes, tears leaking from the corners.

“Arthur didn’t abandon us,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “He went into hiding to protect us.”

I stared at her. “Protect us from what?”

“From the man he was investigating,” she sobbed. “Twenty-five years ago, Arthur was hired by Elena Bellandi. She suspected someone in the family was orchestrating a hostile takeover of the company. Arthur found proof. But before he could give it to her, she disappeared.”

Matteo gripped the footboard of the bed. “Who took her?”

My mother looked at him with profound sorrow.

“Arthur followed the man who forced her onto the train to Boston. He stole a piece of evidence from the man’s pocket. He used it to blackmail Daniel Mercer for years, forcing Daniel to send money to an account to keep us fed while Arthur stayed dead to the world.”

“What evidence?” Matteo demanded.

My mother slowly opened the drawer of her bedside table.

She pulled out a small, sealed wax envelope that looked like it had been hidden away for decades.

She handed it to me.

“He told me to give this to you, Hannah,” she said, weeping. “He said if a Bellandi ever showed you the train ticket, it meant the monster was finally coming into the light.”

My hands shook as I broke the wax seal.

I reached inside.

My fingers brushed against cold, heavy metal.

I pulled it out and gasped.

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