Chapter 2 - Noah Could Only Remember Five Words Clearly
Rocco did not interrogate Noah at the wedding.
That mattered.
His son was three.
Terrified.
Overwhelmed.
Missing the hearing aid that helped him process speech clearly in noisy environments.
Rocco’s first job was not solving a mystery.
It was getting Noah somewhere quiet and safe.
The resort had a private family suite upstairs.
Rocco carried his son there himself.
One of the bodyguards stayed outside the door.
A pediatric nurse who happened to be among the wedding guests checked Noah’s cheek.
No serious injury.
The redness would fade.
Rocco was relieved.
Then immediately angry again.
He sat on the edge of the bed with Noah in his lap while another family member called the audiology clinic to ask what could be done about replacing the damaged hearing aid.
Noah kept asking:
“Can they fix it?”
“We’ll get you another one.”
“Same one?”
“As close as possible.”
Noah sniffled.
“Victoria broke it.”
“I know.”
Rocco touched the little boy’s hair.
Then waited.
Eventually Noah began talking without being pushed.
“I was under the table.”
“What table?”
“The flower one.”
The large banquet table.
Before Victoria attacked him, Noah had been playing nearby.
At three, hiding under tablecloths during receptions was more interesting than speeches.
Rocco smiled faintly despite himself.
“What happened?”
Noah frowned, trying to organize memory.
“I heard red dress.”
Victoria.
“Who was she talking to?”
Noah pointed vaguely toward the door.
“Man.”
“Marcus?”
He nodded.
Rocco’s stomach tightened.
“What did they say?”
Noah hesitated.
Then shook his head.
“Too many words.”
That was normal.
He had heard a conversation.
Not memorized a transcript.
“What words do you remember?”
Noah squeezed his fingers together.
Then said slowly:
“Mommy.”
Rocco’s chest tightened.
Noah’s mother, Claire, had died fourteen months earlier.
“What else?”
“Signature.”
Rocco stopped breathing for half a second.
Noah continued.
“Dead.”
Another pause.
“Money.”
Then the last one.
“Rocco.”
His father’s name.
Five words.
Mommy.
Signature.
Dead.
Money.
Rocco.
That was all.
But it was enough to make him look toward the closed bedroom door.
Because Claire Caruso’s death had involved an estate.
Marcus Hale had handled parts of that estate.
And Victoria Hayes—
May you like
Victoria had been Claire’s older sister.
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