Chapter 9 - The Night Clara ForgotThe room became a courtroom without a judge.
I stood in the middle of it, trying to understand how a twelve-year-old girl could possibly be connected to a murder she couldn't remember.
Isabella walked closer.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“You won't like it.”
“I need it.”
She looked at Ricardo.
“So do you.”
Then she pressed a button on a small remote.
The television came alive.
Security footage.
A warehouse.
Rain.
Sofia running.
Daniel Vance carrying a briefcase.
A younger Ricardo chasing them.
Then me.
Twelve years old.
I was crying.
Sofia saw me.
She stopped.
“Clara!”
She ran toward me.
Then a gunshot.
The footage froze.
I stared at the screen.
“No.”
Isabella whispered.
“You saw her fall.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You held her.”
“No.”
“You were covered in her blood.”
I backed away.
Ricardo closed his eyes.
“What happened next?”
Isabella looked at him.
“She survived the first shot.”
Ricardo's head snapped up.
“You knew?”
“I was there.”
“Then who shot her?”
“Matteo.”
Ricardo stared.
“He was already dead.”
“No.”
Isabella shook her head.
“Matteo staged his death.”
Ricardo's face hardened.
“That bastard.”
“But the second shot came from someone else.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Who?”
Isabella pointed at me.
“Clara.”
I stared.
“No.”
“You picked up the gun.”
“I was twelve.”
“You were frightened.”
“I didn't shoot her.”
“You don't remember.”
Ricardo stepped between us.
“Enough.”
Isabella turned to him.
“The truth doesn't become false because you hate it.”
She handed me a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed me holding a gun.
Sofia lay on the floor.
My father stood behind me.
The photograph had been taken seconds after the shooting.
I felt dizzy.
“That's fake.”
“No.”
“Then why don't I remember?”
“Because your father made sure you wouldn't.”
Ricardo looked at me.
“How?”
Isabella answered.
“Drugs. Hypnosis. Years of lies.”
My knees weakened.
Daniel Vance had spent years protecting me from something.
But what?
I opened the envelope again.
There was another note.
My father's handwriting.
Clara, if you ever remember, don't trust Ricardo.
I looked at Ricardo.
He saw the note.
Something changed between us.
“You believe your father?” he asked.
“I don't know what to believe.”
Ricardo stepped back.
“I never killed Sofia.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
He reached into his jacket.
Pulled out an old bullet.
“I kept this.”
He placed it on the table.
“Sofia was shot twice.”
I stared at it.
“One bullet came from Matteo's gun.”
“And the other?”
Ricardo looked at me.
“The second bullet came from my own gun.”
The room fell silent.
“I was disarmed before the shooting.”
He lowered his voice.
“Someone used my weapon.”
I looked at Isabella.
She nodded.
“Exactly.”
“Who?”
Isabella's eyes moved toward Leo.
The little boy was watching us.
He slowly pointed toward the hallway.
At someone standing there.
Nobody had noticed him.
Vittorio.
He smiled.
“You've finally remembered.”
Ricardo raised his gun.
Vittorio said one sentence.
“The girl didn't shoot Sofia.”
May you like
He looked directly at me.
“She shot me.”
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