Chapter 8 - The Confession of Shadows
The storm outside began to subside as dawn approached, leaving the sky a pale, soft grey over the ocean.
In the nursery, Matteo had finally fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep, his small hand still resting inside Clara’s palm.
Vincent sat in an armchair near the window, two cups of hot black coffee resting on the small table between him and Clara.
"Dominic Moretti was a monster," Clara said quietly, breaking the long silence as she looked out at the ocean. "I married him when I was twenty-two, entirely ignorant of what his family did. By the time I realized who he really was, I was trapped."
Vincent listened in silence, taking a slow sip of his coffee.
"When the internal war broke out in Chicago," Clara continued, "Dominic used me as a human shield during an hit at our home. I survived. He didn't. I spent six months in a federal hospital surrounded by agents who wanted me to testify about things I knew nothing about."
"Why change your name?" Vincent asked softly.
"Because the Moretti family blamed me for Dominic’s death," she said, looking Vincent in the eye. "They thought I cleared his schedule for the hitmen. I fled Chicago, changed my identity, and dedicated my life to physical therapy. I wanted to help people rebuild what men like Dominic and your rivals break."
"And coming here?"
"I didn't know who Vincent Rossi was when I answered the placement agency's listing," Clara admitted with a dry, sad smile. "I only knew there was an eight-year-old boy in Cape Point who had survived a horrific accident and was fading away in a giant house. When I realized who you were on my first day... I almost walked out."
"Why didn't you?"
Clara looked at Matteo's sleeping form. "Because I saw his eyes. He had the same look I had in that federal hospital—the look of someone surrounded by walls, waiting for someone to see him instead of his damage."
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Vincent looked down at his calloused hands. "I built those cameras to catch people who meant him harm. I spent every night staring at monitors, convinced that if I looked away for a second, I’d lose him too."
"You were looking at the screens, Mr. Rossi," Clara said gently, "but you weren't looking at your son."
