PART 3: “YOUR HUSBAND HAS BEEN LYING TO YOU ABOUT YOUR MOTHER…”

Claire stared at Vincent’s message until the words blurred before her eyes.

Please don’t let Sophia tell you what happened to your mother.

Her mother had died twelve years ago in what everyone called a tragic car accident. Claire had been twenty-one, still in college, and too devastated to question the details.

Her father had died when she was young. Her mother had been the only family she had left.

And Vincent?

He had entered her life two years later.

He had comforted her through nightmares, held her when she cried, and promised that she would never have to face the world alone again.

Now he was telling her that he knew something about her mother’s death.

Something he had hidden throughout their seven-year marriage.

Claire slowly raised her eyes toward Sophia.

“What happened to my mother?”

Sophia’s face turned pale.

“I can’t explain everything here.”

“Then explain what you can.”

Sophia glanced toward the window again, as if she expected someone to appear outside at any moment.

“Vincent didn’t marry you by accident, Claire.”

The words struck harder than Claire expected.

“What does that mean?”

Sophia took a shaky breath.

“Before you met him, Vincent already knew who you were. He knew your mother’s name. He knew about her inheritance. And he knew something about the company your grandfather built.”

Claire shook her head.

“No. My grandfather died before I was born. His company went bankrupt years ago.”

“That’s what you were told.”

Sophia reached into her handbag and pulled out another document.

“This is a copy of your grandfather’s original trust agreement. Your mother was the beneficiary. When she died, the rights were supposed to pᴀss to you.”

Claire took the paper.

The company name printed across the top made her stomach тιԍнтen.

Moretti Global Holdings.

She read the document twice.

“That can’t be right. Vincent’s family owns Moretti Global.”

“His family manages it,” Sophia corrected quietly. “That’s not the same thing.”

Claire’s fingers тιԍнтened around the pages.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

For the first time, Sophia looked genuinely ashamed.

“Because I thought I could make Vincent choose me. I thought if I helped him get rid of you, he’d finally give me the life he promised.”

“And what did he promise?”

Sophia hesitated.

Then she whispered, “He promised to marry me once your divorce was final.”

Claire felt a strange emptiness spread through her chest.

Not heartbreak.

Not jealousy.

Just the cold realization that the woman who had betrayed her ten years ago had returned to do it again—and that her husband had apparently been using both of them.

“Get out,” Claire said.

Sophia blinked.

“Claire, please—”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“But Vincent—”

“I don’t care what Vincent wants anymore.”

Claire opened the door wider.

“You wanted my life? You can have the man who came with it.”

Sophia’s eyes filled with tears.

Then she did something Claire never expected.

She placed a small flash drive on the table.

“There’s a recording on here. It was made six months ago, the night Vincent signed that agreement.”

She backed toward the door.

“Listen to it before you decide whether I’m telling the truth.”

Then Sophia left.

Claire locked the door, drew the curtains, and sat down at the table.

Her hands were shaking so badly that she struggled to connect the flash drive to her laptop.

A single audio file appeared.

She pressed play.

At first, there was only static.

Then Vincent’s voice filled the room.

“Once Claire signs the settlement, everything returns to the way it was supposed to be.”

Another man answered.

“And if she discovers the trust?”

“She won’t.”

“What if she asks questions about her mother?”

Vincent was silent for several seconds.

Then he said something that made Claire cover her mouth.

“Then I’ll tell her what I’ve always told her. That her mother died before she had the chance to learn the truth.”

The other man lowered his voice.

“And if she finds out you were there that night?”

The recording ended.

Claire sat completely still.

Vincent had been there?

On the night her mother died?

She replayed the final seconds, hoping she had misunderstood.

But his voice was unmistakable.

She immediately called Lauren.

“Find me someone who can investigate my mother’s accident. Someone independent. I want the original police report, the insurance records, everything.”

“Claire, what’s happened?”

“My husband knew my mother.”

A pause.

“What?”

“And I think he knows how she really died.”

Lauren didn’t ask another question.

“I’ll start immediately. And Claire? Don’t confront him until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Claire looked down at the ultrasound appointment card.

She had planned to give Vincent a child.

Now she wasn’t even sure she knew the man who would become that child’s father.

“I won’t,” she promised.

But neither woman knew that Vincent was already on his way.

At 9:40 that evening, Vincent Moretti stood outside Claire’s apartment.

He had dismissed his driver, left two security men downstairs, and come alone.

For the first time in seven years, he wasn’t certain Claire would open the door for him.

He knocked.

Once.

Twice.

“Claire, it’s me.”

Silence.

“I know you’re in there.”

He placed his hand against the door.

“Please. Just give me five minutes.”

Finally, the lock turned.

Claire stood before him wearing a simple sweater, her hair tied back, her face unreadable.

Vincent’s gaze immediately dropped to her stomach.

She wasn’t visibly showing yet.

But now that he knew, he couldn’t stop thinking about the life growing inside her.

“Is it true?” he asked.

Claire folded her arms.

“Which part? That I’m pregnant? That you betrayed me? Or that you knew my mother?”

Pain flickered across his face.

“So you heard the recording.”

“Answer my question.”

Vincent looked at her for a long moment.

“Yes. I knew your mother.”

“How long?”

“Before I met you.”

Claire felt her throat тιԍнтen.

“And you never told me?”

“I wanted to.”

“When? Before or after you decided to have dinner with Sophia on our anniversary?”

His jaw flexed.

“Claire, Sophia and I—”

“Don’t.”

Her voice was quiet, but it stopped him.

“I don’t want another explanation about Sophia. I want to know why you married me.”

Vincent looked as though she had struck him.

“Because I love you.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

He stepped closer, but she didn’t move aside.

“Your grandfather built the company my family now controls. When he died, there were legal disputes over the trust. Your mother believed your family had been cheated.”

“Was she right?”

Vincent looked away.

That single movement told Claire more than any answer could have.

“Oh, my God.”

“It’s complicated.”

“No. What’s complicated is how you managed to sleep beside me for seven years while hiding this.”

“I never married you for your inheritance.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Claire nodded slowly.

“That’s what I thought.”

She started to close the door.

Vincent caught it with his palm.

“Please, Claire. There’s something else you need to know.”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“No, you haven’t.”

His voice cracked slightly.

“The night your mother died, I was supposed to meet her.”

Claire froze.

The hallway seemed to fall silent around them.

“Why?”

“She had discovered documents proving that the trust had been transferred illegally. She wanted to meet someone who could help her recover it.”

“Who?”

Vincent hesitated.

“My father.”

Claire stared at him.

“Your father was involved in my mother’s accident?”

“I don’t know what happened on that road,” Vincent said quickly. “I arrived after the crash. I swear to you, Claire, I never wanted her hurt.”

“Did you tell the police you were there?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

Claire stepped back as though she no longer recognized his face.

“You let me believe I had lost my mother in an ordinary accident. You watched me grieve her for twelve years, and you never told me you were connected to it.”

“I was twenty-four. My father controlled everything. I was afraid—”

“And now you’re asking me to trust you?”

Vincent fell silent.

For the first time in his life, the most powerful man in the room had no defense.

Claire wiped a tear from her cheek.

“Leave.”

“Claire, please.”

“Leave before I start believing that every good memory I have of us was built on a lie.”

He stared at her, devastated.

Then he slowly stepped away from the door.

But before he reached the elevator, Claire called his name.

He turned immediately, hope flashing across his face.

She held up the divorce papers.

“You have forty-eight hours to sign these. After that, Lauren will take this matter to court.”

Vincent’s expression hardened.

“You’re asking me to give up my wife and my child?”

“No,” Claire replied. “I’m asking you to stop treating us like things you own.”

She closed the door.

This time, he didn’t stop her.

The following morning, Lauren arrived with a folder of newly recovered records.

She placed them on Claire’s table and opened to the first page.

“The original police report lists your mother’s accident as a single-vehicle collision. But there’s a problem.”

Claire leaned forward.

“What problem?”

“The insurance company received a second report three days later. It mentions another vehicle, but that report was withdrawn before the investigation concluded.”

“Who withdrew it?”

Lauren slid the page toward her.

A signature appeared at the bottom.

Anthony Moretti.

Vincent’s father.

Claire felt sick.

“Can we prove he was responsible?”

“Not yet. But there’s more.”

Lauren pulled out a bank statement.

Six months before Claire’s wedding, an account connected to the Moretti family had transferred a substantial sum to a private legal firm. The payment description referenced the original trust.

And the authorization carried Vincent’s signature.

Claire stared at it.

“He told me he had nothing to do with the inheritance.”

“I believe he knew more than he admitted,” Lauren said. “But we need to establish exactly what he did.”

Claire looked toward the window.

For seven years, she had believed Vincent was the one person in the world who would never deliberately hurt her.

Now she had to consider the possibility that he had known the truth from the beginning.

Her phone rang.

An unfamiliar woman introduced herself as a former employee of the law firm that had handled her grandfather’s estate.

“Mrs. Moretti, I’ve been trying to reach you for years. Your mother left instructions that I was to contact you if anything happened to her.”

Claire gripped the phone.

“What instructions?”

“She left a sealed letter and a copy of the original trust documents. They were kept in a private safe under your name.”

“Where are they?”

“At the firm’s old archive office. But before I give you the address, you need to understand something.”

The woman’s voice trembled.

“Your mother didn’t just suspect that the Morettis had stolen her inheritance.”

Claire stopped breathing.

“She discovered that someone in the family had forged your grandfather’s final signature.”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone.”

“Please. I need to know.”

The woman lowered her voice.

“Come tomorrow morning. Bring your attorney. And don’t tell Vincent.”

The call ended.

Lauren immediately began writing down the details.

But Claire wasn’t looking at her.

She was staring at a pH๏τograph on the table—a picture of her mother holding Claire as a little girl.

For the first time in twelve years, Claire wondered whether her mother’s final days had been spent trying to protect her from the very man she would one day marry.

Then another message arrived.

It was from Vincent.

“I’ve signed the divorce papers. I’ll send them to Lauren today.”

A second message followed.

“But before you read your mother’s letter, ask Sophia what she did the night of the accident.”

Claire’s blood ran cold.

She looked at Lauren.

“Why would he say that?”

Lauren’s expression grew grave.

“I don’t know.”

Then Claire noticed something else.

The message had been sent only thirty seconds earlier.

And beneath it was a final line.

“Because Sophia was there, too.”

Claire slowly put down her phone.

The woman who had stolen her first love, returned for her husband, and delivered the recording that shattered her world might have been hiding something even more terrible than an affair.

And tomorrow, when Claire opened her mother’s sealed letter, she might finally discover the truth.

But she wasn’t prepared for the one question that kept returning to her mind.

If Sophia had been there the night her mother died, why had she waited twelve years to tell her?

To be continued in Part 4…