“Stop Calling This Number,” She Said—Then the Mafia Boss Whispered, “My Mother Is Dead.”
Chapter 5
The account had been opened twenty-one years earlier.
The money inside had grown steadily.
Almost untouched.
Marco stared at the records on his laptop.
“Why would my father have a secret account?”
“Maybe he was involved.”
Marco shook his head.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“My father was many things.”
He paused.
“But secrets belonged to my mother.”
Clara raised an eyebrow.
“You sound certain.”
“I was there.”
“That doesn’t make you right.”
Marco looked at her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he smiled.
“You really aren’t afraid of me.”
“I am.”
“But you argue anyway.”
“Fear and stupidity aren’t the same thing.”
He laughed.
It was the first genuine laugh Clara had heard from him.
They accessed the account through an old banking connection.
The records were incomplete.
But there was a pattern.
Every few months, money had been deposited.
Then withdrawn.
Always by different people.
Clara pointed at the names.
“Look.”
“What?”
“These people aren’t random.”
They were all connected to missing women.
Marco leaned closer.
The money had been used to relocate them.
Housing.
Medical care.
New documents.
Transportation.
Evelyn’s charity had not been stealing money.
It had been secretly funding escape operations.
Clara felt a strange warmth in her chest.
“My mother was helping people.”
“Yes.”
“She was lying to me.”
“To protect you.”
Clara looked at Marco.
“You understand that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“My mother did the same thing.”
Marco closed the laptop.
“We need to find the last withdrawal.”
The final payment had been made three years ago.
Four days before Evelyn’s supposed death.
The recipient name was:
Margaret Bennett.
Clara’s heart stopped.
“My mother received money from Evelyn.”
Marco nodded.
“Four days before Evelyn died.”
“And Mom died one year later.”
“Where did the money go?”
Clara pulled out her mother’s old records.
She had kept everything.
Bank statements.
Receipts.
Letters.
Photographs.
They found a transfer to a storage facility.
Clara stared at the address.
“I know this place.”
“Where?”
“Near the old train station.”
They drove there before dawn.
The storage unit had been paid for under a false name.
Marco broke the lock.
Inside were boxes.
Old clothes.
Medical records.
Passports.
Photographs.
Dozens of files on women they had never heard of.
Clara’s eyes filled with tears.
“My mother was still doing this after Evelyn died.”
Marco nodded.
“She didn’t stop.”
They found one final box.
Inside was a letter addressed to Clara.
She opened it.
My darling girl,
If you ever find this, I’m sorry.
I wanted you to have a normal life.
I couldn’t give you one.
But I could give others the chance I never had.
Clara cried silently.
Then she read the next line.
Evelyn is not dead.
Clara’s head snapped up.
“What?”
Marco took the letter.
He read it.
His face went completely still.
The next sentence was even more shocking.
She was taken, not killed.
Marco stared at the paper.
His mother might still be alive.
Clara whispered:
“Who took her?”
The letter answered.
Someone who knew we would never stop looking.
Then there was a name.
Only one.
Daniel Hayes.
The detective.
Clara looked at Marco.
“The detective who came to the hotel.”
Marco’s eyes became cold.
“He’s the one.”
Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the storage unit.
Marco turned.
The lights went out.
Someone locked the door from the outside.
Then gasoline began pouring beneath it.
Marco grabbed Clara.
“Back!”
Fire spread across the floor.
Clara screamed.
Marco kicked the side wall.
Nothing.
He grabbed a metal bar.
“Cover your face.”
The smoke thickened.
And somewhere outside, a man calmly said:
“Burn the evidence.”
