Todos los capítulos de After I Faked My Death, He Suffered Agony: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

The clinic was quiet except for rain tapping against the windows.I lay beneath a white blanket while a doctor moved an ultrasound probe across my stomach. On the screen, the baby shifted, one small arm rising toward its face.“His heartbeat is strong,” she said.Only then did I realize how tightly I had been gripping the edge of the bed.The cleaner waited outside the examination room. He had brought me across the border with a new passport and no luggage beyond what fit in a carry-on bag. He had done everything I asked of him, yet one question had followed me from the airfield.When the doctor left, I opened the door.“What do we know about the woman on the plane?”“She died two weeks before we found her,” he said. “No identification. No missing-person report that matches yet.”“That isn’t a name.”“No.”I thought of the ring on her finger. Damian would believe it was mine. So would his parents, Maria, Marcus, and everyone else who had known me.But someone, somewhere, might still be

Claudia received Damian in her apartment that evening.She had changed into a silk robe and done her makeup. When he entered with Antonio’s lawyer and two guards, her smile tightened.“Is this really necessary?”The lawyer placed a tablet on the table. Claudia’s recorded confession played first. Then came the footage of her breaking the wineglass and forcing it into her own palm.She looked away.“That conversation was private,” she said. “You don’t know what I meant.”“I know the woman on your aircraft died,” Damian said.For the first time, Claudia stopped trying to sound wounded.“You paid people to nearly kill your own wife. Don’t pretend you’re shocked by what happened to a stranger.”The lawyer told her that the broker’s payment had been traced to her account. Claudia’s eyes flicked toward the door, where the guards stood.“You’ll need to answer for the crash,” Damian said.“So will you, if anyone learns about the contract.”“I know.”That answer seemed to unsettle her more than

They buried the woman from the jet under my name.In Chicago, two families gathered around a grave they believed was mine. In Zurich, I sat in a clinic room with the curtains open and let the morning light reach the bed.Ruth had warned me when the service would begin. I had asked her not to send photographs.For twenty years, Antonio and his wife had called me their daughter. Maria had cared for me through illnesses and birthdays. Marcus had known about the baby and tried, however wrongly, to help me survive Damian.I could not tell them I was alive without putting my escape at risk. Their grief was the hardest part of the plan to accept.The cleaner knocked and came in carrying a small folder.“We have a possible name for the woman from the jet,” he said. “Elena Varga. She arrived in Chicago three months ago. No close relatives here.”“Possible?”“Her fingerprints match an employment record. We’re checking it through another source.”Elena. I repeated the name silently.“Was anyone l

Four months after the airfield, my son was born in Zurich.The labor lasted through one night and much of the next morning. Ruth waited outside the room. The cleaner remained downstairs, ready to move us if our location was compromised. I had told both of them they were not to come in unless I asked.When the nurse placed the baby against my chest, I forgot they were there.He was small and furious, protesting the cold air with everything he had. I counted his fingers twice. I touched his cheek with one fingertip.“Noah,” I said.Ruth came in later carrying the painted blocks I had bought. She had wrapped them in plain brown paper, though I recognized the shape.“Did you decide on his surname?” she asked.“Cole.”She nodded. The Cole name had belonged to my parents long before it became a tool I used to help Damian.I settled Noah at a secluded family estate in a Swiss valley. A nurse lived nearby, and Ruth arranged security whose first loyalty was to me, not to any Moretti. I stayed w

Over the next year, I traveled whenever Noah’s routine allowed it.I saw cities I had once passed through behind the dark windows of Damian’s cars. I learned to enter a restaurant without checking whether the table suited someone else. Sometimes I stayed for a week. Sometimes I went home after two days because I missed my son.On one trip, I found an antique violin in a small shop. Its bridge had collapsed, and the varnish was badly damaged. The shopkeeper thought it was beyond repair.I bought it anyway.At the Swiss estate, I spent evenings studying the instrument. My mother had taught me how to care for her violin when I was young. After Damian destroyed it, Maria had helped me save the pieces. They were still boxed in Ruth’s keeping.I could not make my mother’s instrument whole again. I could learn to repair another.A restorer in Galway agreed to teach me. I traveled to Ireland for several short stays, then rented a small workshop on the west coast.By day, I worked with old wood