Chapter 2 - The Name in the Envelope
Victor caught Elena’s wrist before she could move.
“Stay behind me.”
The emergency lights flickered on.
Dim red illumination filled the bedroom.
Matteo stood near the doorway.
His hands were visible.
His expression was furious.
“What the hell is she talking about?”
Elena backed away.
“You followed me yesterday.”
Matteo stared at her.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You were outside the laundry room.”
“I live here.”
“You told me to stop asking questions about my father.”
Victor turned toward his cousin.
“Did you?”
Matteo hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Victor stepped forward.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Carlo told me she was digging through old records.”
Carlo swore under his breath.
Victor looked at him.
“You ordered Matteo to watch her?”
“I ordered him to protect this family.”
“From a maid?”
“From whatever her father left behind.”
Elena finally spoke.
“My father left nothing.”
Carlo laughed.
“You expect us to believe that?”
“He died when I was nine.”
“You were nine when he vanished.”
Elena’s face tightened.
Victor heard the distinction.
“Vanished?”
Elena looked at him.
“My mother told me he was dead.”
Carlo shook his head.
“She lied.”
Victor stared at his uncle.
“How do you know?”
Before Carlo could answer, Gabriel’s radio crackled.
A guard’s voice came through.
“Power interruption originated in the basement. Someone opened the service entrance.”
Gabriel immediately stepped into the corridor.
“I’m locking the property.”
Victor turned to Elena.
“You’re coming with me.”
“Where?”
“My office.”
Carlo blocked the doorway.
“You are making a mistake.”
Victor stopped inches from him.
“The mistake was allowing you to think this house belonged to you.”
Carlo’s eyes flashed.
Victor continued.
“Move.”
Carlo moved.
Victor took Elena to his private office at the opposite end of the floor.
Gabriel followed.
Matteo stayed behind.
Teresa said nothing.
Once the door shut, Victor placed the envelope on his desk.
Elena stood several feet away.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You nearly collapsed ten minutes ago.”
She sat.
Victor opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter.
The handwriting belonged to his father.
Victor recognized the sharp slant immediately.
He began reading.
Victor,
If you are reading this, then Daniel Marlow is dead, missing, or somebody has decided his silence is no longer enough.
Daniel was not an enemy.
He protected this family when I did not deserve protection.
Victor stopped.
Elena stared at the letter.
“What does it say?”
Victor continued silently.
Years ago, Carlo and I were involved in business that nearly destroyed us. Daniel handled accounts at one of our freight companies. He discovered money being moved through shell companies without authorization.
Victor looked at Carlo’s name again.
Then read further.
Daniel believed Carlo was building his own operation using Russo assets. I refused to believe him. That was my failure.
If Daniel disappears, find the ledger.
Do not trust anyone simply because they share your blood.
Victor finished the page.
There was a second sheet.
He turned it over.
Daniel hid evidence somewhere Carlo would never search.
He said his daughter would know the way when she was old enough.
Her name is Elena.
Victor slowly looked across the room.
Elena sat completely still.
“You knew my father?”
“No.”
“You knew his name?”
“Not until tonight.”
She stood.
“What else?”
Victor hesitated.
“Your father may have hidden a ledger.”
Elena shook her head.
“I don’t know anything about a ledger.”
“My father believed you would know how to find it.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Think.”
“My father disappeared when I was a child. I barely remember him.”
“Anything he gave you?”
“No.”
“Anything he said?”
Elena pressed both hands against her temples.
“I don’t know.”
Victor watched frustration turn to panic.
He softened his voice.
“Elena.”
She looked at him.
“We have time.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Why?”
She reached into the pocket of her apron.
Then stopped.
Victor noticed.
“What?”
Slowly, she withdrew a folded note.
“I found this yesterday.”
She handed it to him.
The message contained only two lines.
LEAVE CHICAGO BEFORE MIDNIGHT.
YOUR FATHER SHOULD HAVE DONE THE SAME.
Victor felt something cold settle inside him.
“Who gave you this?”
“It was under my door.”
“And you told nobody?”
“Who was I supposed to tell?”
“Me.”
A sad expression crossed her face.
“You barely knew my name.”
Victor did not answer.
Because she was right.
Elena had worked in the house for fourteen months.
He knew she arrived early.
Worked quietly.
Never complained.
Sometimes left coffee outside his office when meetings ran late.
He knew she preferred the old staircase because the main elevator made a strange sound that frightened her.
He knew she wore the same silver chain every day.
But he had never once asked about her family.
Not until someone threatened her.
Elena looked toward the letter.
“Why did your father know me?”
Victor read the final paragraph.
Then his attention caught on one sentence.
Daniel said his daughter would recognize the song.
Victor frowned.
“What song?”
Elena looked confused.
“What?”
“My father wrote that yours said you would recognize a song.”
Her expression changed.
Slowly.
Carefully.
“My father used to play a music box for me.”
Victor leaned forward.
“What music box?”
“A little wooden one. It had a ballerina inside.”
“Where is it?”
“My mother threw it away after he disappeared.”
“Are you sure?”
Elena hesitated.
“No.”
Victor stood.
“Where did your mother live?”
“She died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She had a storage unit.”
“Do you still have access?”
“Yes.”
Victor grabbed his jacket.
Gabriel stepped forward.
“You’re not leaving the property tonight.”
Victor looked at him.
“Someone entered through the service door. That means this house is compromised.”
“Exactly.”
“So I would rather move than sit here waiting.”
Elena shook her head.
“You don’t need to come.”
Victor looked at her.
“Somebody threatened you inside my house.”
“This isn’t your problem.”
Victor walked toward her.
“It became my problem the moment my father put your name in that envelope.”
“That’s not why.”
Victor stopped.
Elena’s eyes held his.
For one uncomfortable second, neither looked away.
Then she whispered, “You’re angry because somebody made a decision for me.”
Victor remembered Sofia Bellandi.
The red dress.
The fear in her face.
The way her father had spoken about her as if she were another shipping contract.
Elena had seen more than he realized.
“You’re observant.”
“It’s my job to notice things people leave behind.”
Victor almost smiled.
Then Gabriel interrupted.
“We leave through the east garage.”
Twenty minutes later, they were inside a black SUV heading toward a storage facility on the northwest side.
Victor sat beside Elena in the back.
Gabriel drove.
Two security vehicles followed.
Elena looked out the window.
“Why did you reject her?”
Victor knew immediately who she meant.
“Sofia?”
“Yes.”
“She didn’t want to marry me.”
“That usually matters.”
“In my family? Apparently not.”
Elena glanced at him.
“People downstairs said you rejected eight women.”
“Nine.”
Her eyebrows rose.
Victor shrugged.
“One was before you started working for us.”
Despite herself, Elena laughed.
It was the first time Victor had heard it.
Soft.
Brief.
Real.
Then she looked guilty for laughing.
Victor found that strangely irritating.
“You’re allowed to laugh.”
“In your house?”
“In my presence.”
“That sounds suspiciously like permission.”
“Then ignore me and do it anyway.”
She looked at him again.
Something shifted.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Something more dangerous.
Trust.
They reached the storage facility at 12:17 a.m.
Elena led them to unit 418.
She unlocked it.
Boxes filled the cramped space.
Old clothes.
Furniture.
Books.
A lamp.
Photographs.
Elena searched until she found a cardboard carton marked CHILDHOOD.
Her hands began shaking.
Victor crouched beside her.
Inside were school papers.
A stuffed rabbit.
A cracked snow globe.
And beneath everything, wrapped in a faded blue scarf, was a small wooden music box.
Elena stared at it.
“My mother told me she threw it away.”
Victor lifted it carefully.
The wood was scratched.
One corner was chipped.
On the bottom was a tiny brass plate.
D.M. TO E.M.
ALWAYS FOLLOW THE SECOND VERSE.
Elena covered her mouth.
Victor opened the lid.
A delicate melody began.
Elena closed her eyes.
“I remember this.”
“What is it?”
“My father made up words for the song.”
“Can you remember them?”
She listened.
Then whispered.
“First the river.”
The melody continued.
“Then the bell.”
Victor glanced at Gabriel.
Elena opened her eyes.
“Then beneath the place where angels fell.”
Victor frowned.
“Does that mean anything?”
“No.”
The music reached the second verse.
Then stopped abruptly.
Victor examined the mechanism.
“There’s something inside.”
He removed the velvet lining.
Underneath was a narrow compartment.
Inside lay a tiny key.
And a strip of paper.
Elena unfolded it.
Four numbers.
Victor stared at them.
Gabriel’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed immediately.
“What happened?”
He looked at Victor.
“Someone searched Elena’s room while we were gone.”
Elena went pale.
Gabriel continued.
“They took nothing.”
Victor knew that was worse.
“Then what did they do?”
Gabriel looked toward Elena.
“They left something.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
Elena’s voice was barely audible.
“Of what?”
Gabriel hesitated.
Then turned his phone around.
The screen showed a photograph of Elena asleep in Victor’s bed.
Taken less than two hours earlier.
From inside the bedroom.
Victor stared at it.
Someone had been watching them.
Someone close enough to stand in the shadows while he spoke to his family.
Then Elena noticed something Victor had missed.
In the mirror behind the bed, a figure was reflected.
Only part of the face was visible.
But Elena recognized it.
She reached for the phone.
Her fingers froze over the screen.
“That’s impossible.”
Victor looked at her.
“Who is it?”
May you like
Elena lifted her eyes.
“My father.”
