Chapter 4 - THE SILENT WITNESS
While I was unearthing Ewan’s final confession, Delia was discharging herself from St. Jude’s Hospital.
When I returned to the estate an hour later, my head driver informed me that Delia had insisted on coming back to work, claiming my mother’s medical schedule could not be trusted to a temporary agency nurse.
I found her in my mother's conservatory. The broken glass had been completely swept away, the marble floor polished to a mirror finish. My mother lay peacefully in her motorized bed, her eyes closed, breathing evenly to the rhythm of the machine. Delia was standing beside her, adjusting the intravenous drip with steady, professional hands, despite the heavy white bandage taped to her left temple.
"You should be in bed," I said, my voice softening as I closed the conservatory door behind me.
Delia didn't startle. She finished checking the monitor before turning to face me. "Your mother's care schedule doesn't pause because I have a concussion, Mr. Romano. Besides, staying in a hospital room alone gives you too much time to think. Here, I have work to do."
I walked over, stopping a few feet away from her. "You risked your life by staying in this house for two years. And last night, you nearly lost it because Celeste caught you looking at her."
"I didn't look at her," Delia corrected quietly, looking straight into my eyes. "She looked at me. She came down here to check your mother's vitals—or so she told the night staff—and she recognized my face from the day of the fire. She knew I was the last person Ewan spoke to."
"She won't get the chance to touch you again," I promised, the darkness in my tone leaving zero room for doubt. "I found Ewan’s lockbox in his old study. I have the ledger. I have the tape. Celeste and her family are finished."
Delia’s breath caught. For the first time, a look of profound, overwhelming relief washed over her features, melting away the stoic armor she had worn for years. "You have proof?"
"Irrefutable proof," I nodded. "Which means our wedding is officially canceled. But before I tear down the Vandermark empire, I need to know one more thing."
She tilted her head, waiting.
"Ewan," I said softly. "What was he to you, Delia? Beyond a man who made a phone call before a fire?"
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A bittersweet smile touched her lips, fragile as glass. "We were supposed to leave Chicago together that night, Mr. Romano. We had train tickets to Seattle in our pockets. We were going to start over where your family's name couldn't reach us."
The silence returned to the conservatory, heavier this time, laden with six years of unlived life and stolen futures. I looked at the fragile, fierce woman standing before me, and realized that while I had spent six years seeking vengeance in dark warehouses, the true soul of my family had been right here in this room all along.
