Chapter 6 - The Medical File Sofia Never Got to Read
Sofia Rosselli’s medical records arrived the next morning.
Not from Dante’s private physician.
From the hospital.
Maya insisted on that distinction.
“Independent source,” she said.
Dante sat at the far end of the conference table.
I sat near the door.
Old habits.
Leo was upstairs with a nanny Maya had personally vetted after Dante fired all three temporary caregivers.
He did not fire them because they were guilty.
He fired them because Bianca had hired them.
That bothered me.
“Did you investigate first?”
Dante looked at me.
“They were her hires.”
“That does not make them criminals.”
“No.”
“So?”
He exhaled.
“They were placed on paid leave.”
Better.
Maya opened Sofia’s chart.
There were no dramatic poison results.
No cinematic red circle around MURDER.
Real records were uglier because they were ordinary.
Dates.
Notes.
Missed calls.
A cardiology consult ordered and then canceled.
A symptom report changed from “urgent shortness of breath” to “anxiety.”
Dante stared.
“She was not anxious.”
Maya continued.
“The first physician recommended emergency evaluation.”
“Who canceled it?”
“Dr. Nolan Price.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Bianca’s doctor.”
“Yes.”
A second record showed that Sofia herself called the hospital twelve hours later.
She told a nurse she felt faint and could not breathe lying down.
The nurse told her to come immediately.
She did not arrive for six hours.
Dante stood.
“Why?”
Maya looked at another page.
“Driver log says the house car was unavailable.”
I looked at him.
“Who controlled the cars?”
His face changed.
“Bianca coordinated household schedules while Sofia was pregnant.”
The room went quiet.
Not murder.
Not yet.
But obstruction.
Delay.
Control.
Maya placed a printed email on the table.
FROM: BIANCA SERRANO
TO: DR. NOLAN PRICE
Dante is panicking and Sofia is feeding it. Please reinforce that this is hormonal and not an emergency unless you personally say otherwise.
Dante read it.
Then again.
“She wrote this the day Sofia died.”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did Sofia know Bianca said that?”
“No evidence.”
Another email.
Sofia to Bianca.
Please stop speaking to Nolan for me. I am changing doctors.
Timestamp: three days before her death.
Dante sat down slowly.
“She was removing Bianca.”
Maya nodded.
“From medical decisions at least.”
“What about the foundation?”
“That same week, Sofia requested an audit of foundation vendors.”
My skin prickled.
“Bianca’s vendors.”
“Yes.”
The line connected.
Sofia was questioning Bianca’s money.
Elena later found irregular trust payments through the same network.
Bianca had a reason to fear both women.
Dante pressed his palms together.
“What exactly are we saying?”
Maya answered carefully.
“We are saying Sofia’s care was interfered with, and Bianca appears to have been involved in decisions that delayed emergency treatment. Whether that was criminal requires medical and prosecutorial review.”
Dante’s eyes hardened.
“She killed her.”
“No.”
Every head turned to me.
I surprised myself too.
Dante stared.
I continued.
“You want that sentence because anger likes simple things.”
His face went cold.
“She died.”
“Yes.”
“And Bianca interfered.”
“Evidence says she interfered.”
“She knew Sofia was sick.”
“Maybe.”
“Alina.”
“My mother warned me about men with dragons because she believed one family story for twenty-seven years.”
That stopped him.
I pointed to the records.
“Do not become your father because you are grieving.”
Silence.
Maya did not smile.
But she wanted to.
Dante sat back.
“Fine.”
“Not fine.”
He almost laughed.
“Accurate.”
At noon, Bianca called.
Dante put the phone on speaker.
Her voice came through warm and impatient.
“Where are you? The foundation luncheon starts in forty minutes.”
Dante looked at Maya.
Then at me.
“Working.”
“On what?”
“Family records.”
A pause.
“Which family?”
Too quick.
I watched Dante notice it.
He said, “Sofia.”
Silence.
Only one second.
But enough.
Then Bianca sighed.
“Dante, don’t do this to yourself.”
“Do what?”
“Dig through old medical files because that waitress put ideas in your head.”
My heart stopped.
Dante’s eyes lifted to mine.
He had never told Bianca about me.
Not directly.
“Which waitress?” he asked.
Another pause.
Bianca laughed lightly.
“The one from Aurelia. Everyone is talking about Leo reaching for her.”
Possible.
Maybe.
Then she made the mistake.
“The girl with Elena’s pendant.”
The room became still.
I had never shown the pendant publicly after the restaurant.
No newspaper had photographed the back.
No one outside that room, Maya, Dante, and his men knew it belonged to Elena.
Dante’s voice became very quiet.
“What did you just say?”
Bianca stopped breathing.
Then recovered.
“I said the girl’s pendant.”
“No.”
Dante stood.
“You said Elena’s pendant.”
Silence.
Maya was already writing.
Bianca said, “Dante, you’re tired.”
There it was.
The same technique she had used on Sofia.
Diminish.
Reframe.
Make the other person question their own hearing.
Dante looked at me.
For once, he did not explode.
He said only:
“I’ll see you at dinner.”
Then ended the call.
Maya exhaled.
“That was useful.”
I stared at the silent phone.
“She knows who I am.”
“Yes,” Dante said.
“She knew before the restaurant.”
“Yes.”
“And you still want to go home tonight?”
His eyes hardened.
“It is my house.”
I almost laughed.
“That sentence has ruined enough families.”
Dante stared at me.
Then, slowly, nodded.
He called his head of security.
“Move Leo to the Beacon Hill residence.”
I raised one finger.
Dante closed his eyes.
Then corrected himself.
“Please coordinate with Maya. No one changes Leo’s location without documenting custody and caregiver access.”
Maya blinked.
“I may frame that sentence.”
Dante ignored her.
I looked at Sofia’s records.
One woman dead.
One woman missing.
Both had questioned Bianca.
And Bianca had just revealed knowledge she should not have had.
The first real crack in her story had not come from a threat.
May you like
It came from one careless possessive.
Elena’s pendant.
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