Chapter 12 - My Mother Had Faked Her Funeral
I did not faint.
I wanted credit for that.
Mara did not give it.
“Sit.”
“I’m sitting.”
“You’re pacing.”
“Emotionally sitting.”
Gabriel stared at the bank-security screen.
“That’s Evelyn.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She cut my hair once when I was nineteen.”
I turned.
“What?”
He looked embarrassed.
“Daniel brought me to the house while you and Vanessa were away. Evelyn said I looked homeless.”
“You were in my house?”
“Twice.”
“You knew my mother?”
“Yes.”
“You people are unbelievable.”
Mara raised a hand.
“Later. We need to establish whether Evelyn’s death was falsified.”
It had been.
Not easily.
Not cleanly.
But by midnight, we knew the body buried under Evelyn Vale’s name was not biologically related to Vanessa.
The original DNA sample used for identification had been switched.
Funeral-home records contained a payment from a company tied to Delmar Fine Transit.
Vanessa’s shipping company.
I stared at the report.
“Vanessa knew Mom was alive.”
Gabriel said, “Maybe.”
“She used Mom’s phone.”
“That proves access, not knowledge.”
“Stop defending her.”
“I’m not.”
“You keep correcting me.”
“You said you wanted truth.”
I hated when people used my own standards against me.
Carter arrived at Mara’s office after federal counsel approved a supervised meeting.
I had never been so happy and so angry to see someone.
He walked in, looked at my face, and stopped.
“What happened?”
“My mother isn’t dead.”
His expression barely changed.
Then he sat.
“Of course she isn’t.”
I laughed.
He looked at Gabriel.
For the first time, the half brothers stood in the same room.
Neither moved toward the other.
Carter said, “Gabriel.”
Gabriel replied, “Carter.”
That was it.
Twenty years of family trauma contained in two names.
I looked between them.
“Are you both going to stand there like a Greek tragedy?”
Carter’s mouth shifted.
Gabriel actually smiled.
Then Mara played the bank footage.
Carter watched Evelyn mouth the warning.
“Don’t trust Daniel’s recording,” he repeated.
“What does she mean?” I asked.
Gabriel said, “Daniel edited evidence.”
I turned.
“What?”
“He did it to protect Alessandra.”
“From what?”
“From herself.”
Carter’s expression hardened.
“Explain.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Our mother planned the fire.”
Silence.
Carter did not move.
“No.”
“She intended to burn Salvatore’s archive room while he was away. Destroy the leverage. Destroy his books.”
“She died in that fire.”
“Yes.”
“So she didn’t plan to die.”
“No.”
“Who changed the timing?”
Gabriel swallowed.
“That’s the question.”
I stared.
“Dad’s recording says Alessandra was building evidence against Salvatore.”
“She was.”
“Both can be true.”
“Yes.”
Carter walked toward the window.
“Who knew about the fire plan?”
“Daniel. Evelyn. Alessandra.”
“Salvatore?”
“Not supposed to.”
“Dominic?”
“No.”
“Gabriel?”
“I found out later.”
Carter turned.
“You expect me to believe Daniel Vale knew my mother intended to burn a Battalia property and did nothing?”
“He tried to stop her.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.”
There it was again.
Nobody knew the final hour.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Vanessa.
Alive.
I opened it.
A location pin.
Philadelphia Museum of Art parking garage.
One sentence.
MOM IS HERE. COME ALONE OR SHE LEAVES AGAIN.
I showed Mara.
“No.”
Carter said, “Absolutely not.”
Gabriel said, “It’s bait.”
I looked at all three.
“You are becoming a chorus.”
Mara took my phone.
“We can send agents.”
“If Evelyn sees agents, she runs.”
“Then she runs.”
“She faked her death for two years.”
“Yes.”
“I need to know why.”
“You needing an answer does not make the location safe.”
Carter said quietly, “Mara’s right.”
I looked at him.
“You promised not to decide for me.”
“I’m not. I’m telling you what I think.”
That mattered.
I hated that it mattered.
We compromised again.
I would go visibly alone.
Agents would remain out of sight.
Carter would remain two blocks away.
Gabriel would not come.
He came anyway.
Of course.
At 1:10 a.m., I walked through the nearly empty parking structure.
My footsteps echoed.
A black sedan waited on level four.
Vanessa stood beside it.
She looked exhausted.
“Where’s Mom?”
“In the car.”
I stopped ten feet away.
“Did you know?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
The word hit harder than any slap.
“How long?”
“Since before the funeral.”
I laughed once.
“You let me bury her.”
“She made me.”
“No.”
“Diana—”
“No more. Nobody makes you lie for two years unless you choose it.”
She flinched.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
The rear door opened.
Evelyn Vale stepped out.
My mother.
Alive.
Older.
Thinner.
Real.
My body moved before my mind did.
I took one step toward her.
Then stopped.
She opened her arms.
“Diana.”
I did not go to her.
Her face broke.
“Baby.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Vanessa whispered, “Diana.”
I looked at Evelyn.
“You watched me bury you.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me cry.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because someone tried to kill me.”
“Who?”
She looked over my shoulder.
At the dark ramp behind me.
“Daniel’s killer.”
My heart pounded.
“Dad’s killer is alive?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Evelyn’s eyes moved toward Vanessa.
Then back to me.
“Carter Battalia.”
Behind me, tires screamed.
A car shot up the ramp.
Headlights flooded the garage.
Evelyn grabbed Vanessa.
“Run!”
I turned.
The car accelerated directly toward us.
And through the windshield, I saw the driver.
Not Carter.
May you like
Leon.
On the drive to the parking garage, I kept remembering Evelyn’s funeral. Vanessa had chosen white roses. I had chosen lilies because Mom hated roses indoors. Vanessa and I argued for twenty minutes beside a coffin that apparently did not contain our mother. The absurdity almost made me laugh. Then I remembered touching the wood and promising I would take care of Vanessa. I had made that promise to an empty box while the woman who raised us was alive somewhere, choosing silence. Grief did not disappear when the death became false. If anything, it became angrier. I had still lost two years. I had still mourned. A fake funeral could produce real sorrow. That was something none of the people engineering disappearances seemed to understand.
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