Corsica
Chapter 07 - Corsica
Storm remembered Corsica in fragments.
White sheets.
Salt air.
Pain behind his eyes.
His mother’s perfume entering the room before her voice did.
A doctor telling him rest was obedience to survival.
Paper placed under his hand.
Juliet’s name spoken once, maybe in a dream.
Then months of fog so thick he had accepted other people’s versions of his life because memory came back exhausted and ashamed.
Now Victor’s note lay on the table in Suite 1406.
The signature is real. The drug was not.
Mara Vance read it six times.
Juliet sat beside Leo with one arm around him, her face calm for the child and devastated for herself.
Marcella and Enzo had been politely contained in another suite by hotel security, which pleased no one except Clara Nunez, who told Storm she had always wanted to “politely contain a Moretti.”
Storm stood by the window, watching traffic far below.
“I signed it,” he said.
Juliet did not answer.
That silence had weight.
He turned.
“I do not remember signing it.”
“I believe you.”
The words came too quickly.
He studied her.
“You shouldn’t.”
Juliet looked down at Leo’s hair.
“I know.”
That hurt worse than distrust.
Belief that came from exhaustion, not certainty.
Mara closed the file.
“There are medications that can create confusion without making someone legally incompetent. There are also doctors willing to blur that line when a family office pays the bill.”
Storm looked at her.
“Find the doctor.”
“I already requested Corsica records.”
“My mother will block them.”
“Yes.” Mara smiled faintly. “I enjoy locked doors. They make judges curious.”
Leo leaned toward Juliet.
“Can I play on the carpet?”
“Yes, baby.”
He moved to the rug with his toy car, making soft engine noises under his breath. Children had a miraculous capacity to build roads through adult wreckage.
Juliet watched him.
Storm watched her watching him.
He had missed six years of that face.
Not Juliet’s.
Leo’s.
His son’s concentration. His small hands. The way he gave the car a voice and then answered it politely. The tiny frown when one wheel stuck.
A grief opened in Storm so quietly he nearly missed it.
He had spent years thinking betrayal had made him hard.
Now he understood ignorance had made him empty.
Mara’s phone rang.
She answered, listened, and went still.
“What?” Juliet asked.
Mara put the call on speaker.
A man’s voice came through, old and careful.
“Ms. Vance, my name is Dr. Matteo Ricci. I treated Alessandro Moretti after the Corsica accident.”
Storm’s hand tightened around the window frame.
Mara’s voice stayed professional.
“Doctor, are you willing to provide records?”
“Yes. But not through standard channels. Mrs. Moretti’s representatives already requested deletion of nonessential treatment notes six years ago.”
Juliet closed her eyes.
Storm asked, “What was I given?”
A pause.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Yes.”
The doctor exhaled.
“You were given sedatives appropriate for severe agitation after head trauma. But two additional doses were authorized by a family physician, not by me. I objected. The next day, I was removed from your care.”
Mara wrote quickly.
“Do you know why?”
The doctor’s voice lowered.
“Because you kept asking for Juliet.”
Storm could not move.
Juliet’s hand flew to her mouth.
Leo looked up from the carpet.
“Mom?”
She lowered her hand.
“I’m okay.”
No, Storm thought.
None of them were.
Dr. Ricci continued.
“You signed several papers during that period. I documented concern regarding capacity. My note disappeared from the official chart.”
Mara said, “Do you have a copy?”
“Yes. Victor DeLuca told me to keep one.”
Juliet whispered, “Victor again.”
The dead man had been everywhere the living should have been.
Dr. Ricci gave Mara a secure contact and ended the call.
Storm sat down slowly.
For the first time all morning, he looked less like Storm Moretti and more like the man Juliet had once loved.
Lost. Furious. Too late.
Juliet looked at him for a long moment.
Then she said, “I need you to understand something.”
He lifted his eyes.
“I will not let your guilt rush Leo into your arms.”
“I know.”
“You don’t. Not yet. You will want to fix the years by claiming him fast.”
“Yes.”
“He is not a missing asset.”
Storm flinched.
Good.
“He is a child who believes his father died. He does not owe you instant joy because adults lied.”
Storm nodded slowly.
“You are right.”
Juliet blinked.
She had expected defense.
He gave none.
Before she could answer, the suite phone rang.
Clara’s voice came through.
“Mr. Moretti, there is a Mr. Arthur Carmichael in the lobby asking for Ms. Juliet Carmichael and the boy.”
Juliet went cold.
Storm looked at her.
“My father,” she said.
Clara continued, “He says he has legal authority to take the child home.”
Leo’s toy car stopped moving on the rug.
Juliet stood.
“No,” she said.
But Storm was already reaching for Mara’s folder.
“What authority?” he asked.
Mara checked her tablet, then went pale.
“There’s a guardianship petition.”
Juliet’s knees weakened.
May you like
Mara looked up.
“It was filed six years ago and renewed yesterday.”
