Chapter 6 – THE SISTER WHO KNEW TOO MUCH

“You think Vanessa became engaged to you because you asked questions about Anna?”

Luca looked at me sharply.

“No.”

“Good. Because we don’t know that.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“We were already together.”

“How long?”

“Nearly two years.”

“And the engagement?”

“Eight months ago.”

I considered the timeline.

Vanessa hadn’t appeared suddenly after Luca requested the records.

She’d already been part of his life.

But the injections had started afterward.

That distinction mattered.

“Did your relationship change when you asked about Anna?” I asked.

He looked uncomfortable.

“Vanessa became more attentive.”

“How?”

“She said I wasn’t sleeping. That I was working too hard. She convinced me to let Harris manage my health.”

“Did you feel ill before the injections?”

“Sometimes tired.”

“Anything like the episodes you’ve had recently?”

“No.”

I wrote that down.

Luca watched me.

“You really don’t let anything go.”

“Not when the details matter.”

He looked toward the hallway.

“Anna used to say the same thing.”

We didn’t have time to discuss it further.

Marco entered and said Vanessa had agreed to return to the mansion with her attorney present.

She wanted to retrieve personal belongings and provide a statement about the medication.

Luca looked relieved.

Then furious.

Then tired.

“Set up the meeting,” he said.

Vanessa arrived shortly after four.

She wore a plain black coat and carried a small handbag.

Without her usual diamonds or carefully styled hair, she looked different.

Still beautiful.

But exhausted.

Her attorney, a quiet woman named Claire Benton, accompanied her into the library.

Luca didn’t rise.

Vanessa stopped just inside the doorway.

“Luca.”

He looked at her.

“Why did you leave?”

“Because your guards were outside my room.”

“You could have told them you wanted to go.”

“I didn’t believe they’d let me.”

That was fair.

Luca looked uncomfortable.

“I shouldn’t have had you watched like that.”

Vanessa seemed surprised.

Then she glanced at me.

“You’re still here.”

“Yes.”

“Of course you are.”

Her attorney touched her arm.

“Vanessa, we’re here to discuss the records.”

Vanessa sat down.

I remained beside Luca, with his permission, as the nurse responsible for documenting his current care.

Luca placed the old photograph on the table.

Vanessa stared at it.

For a moment, her expression became almost tender.

“Anna hated that picture.”

“Why?” Luca asked.

“She said it made her look frightened.”

“She was holding your wrist.”

Vanessa looked away.

“She wanted me to stop the appointment.”

“Why?”

“Because she’d felt sick after the previous one.”

“Did you stop?”

Vanessa rubbed her forehead.

“No.”

Luca’s voice changed.

“Why not?”

“Because Dr. Harris said the treatment was necessary.”

“You were trained as a nurse.”

“I was a nursing student.”

“You knew medications should be identified.”

She looked at me.

“Not every student knows everything.”

“No,” I said. “But when a patient repeatedly becomes ill after a treatment, someone should investigate.”

Vanessa’s eyes filled.

“You think I don’t know that now?”

I didn’t answer.

Her attorney placed a hand on the table.

“Vanessa is willing to answer questions about her own involvement. She isn’t qualified to make medical conclusions about events from sixteen years ago.”

Luca nodded.

“Then let’s start with something simple.”

He showed Vanessa the photograph’s date.

“How old were you?”

She stared at it.

“Twenty-one.”

He sat back.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

“You told me you were thirty-three.”

“I know.”

“You’re thirty-seven.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She looked down.

“My father arranged new identification after Anna died.”

Luca frowned.

“You changed your age?”

“Four years.”

“Why?”

“He wanted me to start over. People knew I’d been involved in Anna’s care. There had been questions.”

“What questions?”

“About the treatments. About why I hadn’t spoken up.”

I leaned forward.

“Were there complaints?”

Vanessa nodded.

“One from Anna. Another from a hospital nurse.”

Luca stared.

“Anna complained?”

“She wanted another doctor.”

“Why wasn’t she allowed one?”

Vanessa’s hands began to shake.

“My father said she wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Luca leaned toward her.

“And you believed him?”

“At first.”

There was something painfully ordinary about the answer.

She had been twenty-one.

Still studying.

Still living under her father’s roof.

Still believing adults with impressive credentials knew more than she did.

But she was thirty-seven now.

And she’d held another unidentified injection pen against another person who trusted her.

“Vanessa,” I said, “why did you give Luca those injections?”

She looked at me.

“Dr. Harris said they would help him.”

“Did you know what the medication was?”

She hesitated.

Her attorney touched her arm.

Vanessa shook her head.

“I can’t answer that without speaking to my attorney.”

Luca closed his eyes.

I could see the hurt on his face.

He’d trusted her with his home.

His health.

His memories of Anna.

And she couldn’t tell him whether she’d knowingly given him medication that caused his collapse.

“Did you love me?” he asked.

Vanessa looked startled.

“Luca—”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

His voice was very quiet.

“Then why did you let me keep getting sick?”

She began crying.

“I thought I could keep it from getting worse.”

The sentence stayed with me.

Not because it explained anything.

Because it suggested she’d known the danger was growing.

Luca looked at her.

“What does that mean?”

Vanessa shook her head.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Not without bringing my father into it.”

Her attorney intervened.

“Vanessa, perhaps we should stop.”

But Vanessa reached into her handbag.

She took out a small silver bracelet.

It had a broken clasp.

Luca recognized it immediately.

“Anna’s.”

Vanessa placed it on the table.

“She gave me this the last time we spoke without our father present.”

“When?”

“About a month before she died.”

Luca touched the bracelet.

“She wore it on our wedding day.”

Vanessa nodded.

“She wanted me to remember something.”

“What?”

“That being afraid of our father didn’t mean we had to become like him.”

Her voice broke.

“I didn’t understand until it was too late.”

I looked at the bracelet.

Then at Vanessa.

“Did Anna know you were afraid of Victor?”

She nodded.

“She knew everything.”

Luca stared at her.

“Then why did she keep protecting you?”

Vanessa began crying harder.

Her attorney suggested ending the meeting.

Luca didn’t stop them.

But before Vanessa left, he asked one final question.

“Did you ever read the letter Anna wrote to me?”

Vanessa went completely still.

I watched her face.

She looked at the table.

At the photograph.

At the bracelet.

Then she whispered, “Yes.”

Luca’s voice dropped.

“Then tell me why you let me spend twelve years believing my wife died without wanting to see me.”

Vanessa opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Finally, she said something that changed the room.

“Because, Luca, the letter wasn’t only about what happened to Anna. It was about what our father had already made me do.”

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