Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
I followed Massimo Corvelli through the empty station while his phone remained pressed against his ear.
I had never seen a person change so quickly.
Five minutes earlier, he was the man everyone feared.
The man whose name made people lower their voices.
The man who sat alone every Friday waiting for someone who never came.
But now, he looked like a husband hearing his wife’s voice after years of believing she was gone forever.
"Elena..."
He said the name again.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Almost like he was afraid saying it too clearly would make it disappear.
I stood several feet away, holding the blue umbrella above us while rain poured onto the empty platform.
I knew I should leave.
This was not my business.
This was not my mystery to solve.
But then I saw his hand shaking.
Massimo Corvelli was shaking.
And somehow that frightened me more than the rumors ever had.
"Where are you?" he asked.
Silence.
His expression tightened.
"No. Don't do that."
Another pause.
"I spent six years believing you were dead."
The train station felt different suddenly.
The rain.
The empty tracks.
The old lights flickering above us.
Everything seemed to be waiting.
I couldn't hear the woman's voice through the phone, but whatever she said made Massimo close his eyes.
Like he was trying to hold back something painful.
"I never stopped looking."
A long silence followed.
Then his face changed.
Confusion.
Fear.
Anger.
All at once.
"What do you mean someone was watching me?"
I looked away.
That sentence caught my attention.
Someone was watching him?
The man who had two bodyguards.
The man who seemed to know every danger before it arrived.
Someone had been watching him?
Massimo lowered his voice.
"Tell me where you are."
Another pause.
"No."
His voice became sharper.
"You don't get to disappear again."
The person on the phone said something.
And then Massimo went completely still.
I watched his eyes move toward the train tracks.
Toward the darkness beyond the station.
Like he was looking at something only he could see.
"Who told you to call me?"
Silence.
Then his fingers tightened around the phone.
"Elena."
The way he said her name made my chest tighten.
Not because it was romantic.
Because it sounded like a warning.
"I need you to listen carefully," he said.
His voice was no longer broken.
The powerful man had returned.
"Do not move."
A pause.
"Do not trust anyone around you."
Another pause.
Then his expression turned cold.
"I am coming."
The call ended.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
The rain continued falling.
Finally, Massimo looked at me.
"You should go back inside."
I lowered the umbrella slightly.
"That was your wife?"
His jaw tightened.
"I didn't say that."
"You said her name."
He looked toward the station entrance.
"Some questions are dangerous."
I almost laughed.
"Funny. You are the man everyone says is dangerous."
His eyes returned to mine.
And for the first time, I saw something unexpected.
Respect.
"You don't know what people say about me."
"I know they say enough."
"And you still walked over here."
I looked at the empty bench.
"You looked like someone needed an umbrella."
Something changed in his expression.
A small crack in the wall he had built around himself.
Then he looked down at the photograph in his hand.
The photograph of Elena.
The woman who was supposed to be dead.
"She died six years ago."
His voice was quiet.
I didn't respond.
Because I knew sometimes people didn't need answers.
They needed someone to listen.
"My wife was traveling to Boston."
He stared at the picture.
"Her car was found near a bridge."
I noticed his fingers tighten.
"There was evidence."
He stopped.
I waited.
"There was a funeral."
The rain sounded louder.
"But there was no body."
I looked at him.
No body.
That changed everything.
"Then why did everyone believe she died?"
Massimo looked at me.
"Because someone wanted them to."
The answer came too quickly.
Too confidently.
Like he had spent years living with that thought.
Before I could ask anything else, one of the bodyguards approached.
The older one.
Marcus.
"Boss."
Massimo turned.
Marcus looked serious.
"Your driver found something."
Massimo's expression changed.
"What?"
Marcus glanced at me.
Then back at him.
"Inside the SUV."
A pause.
"Someone left an envelope."
Massimo immediately started walking.
I don't know why I followed.
Maybe because I knew I had already crossed that line.
Maybe because after seeing a man like Massimo Corvelli break for a woman he thought he lost, I needed to know the truth too.
Outside the station, the black SUV waited beneath the rain.
The younger bodyguard opened the back door.
Inside was a small brown envelope.
Nothing special.
No name.
No address.
No explanation.
But Massimo stopped when he saw it.
"You know this?"
I asked.
He didn't answer.
He reached toward it slowly.
Like touching it might hurt.
On the front of the envelope was a symbol.
A small handwritten circle with a line through the center.
Massimo's face became pale.
"Where did you find this?"
Marcus answered.
"On the back seat."
"Who touched it?"
"No one."
Massimo looked at him.
"No one?"
Marcus shook his head.
"It was there when we opened the door."
Massimo took the envelope.
His hands were steady now.
Too steady.
He opened it.
Inside was a single piece of paper.
I couldn't see everything.
Only one sentence.
But it was enough.
Because Massimo read it twice.
Then a third time.
"What does it say?" I asked.
He folded the paper immediately.
"It's nothing."
I stared at him.
"That is a terrible lie."
For a moment, I thought he might be angry.
Instead, he almost smiled.
"You really don't know when to stop."
"No."
I looked at the envelope.
"I usually don't."
Marcus looked between us.
I could tell he didn't understand why Massimo was allowing me to stand there.
Maybe Massimo didn't understand either.
Then his phone rang again.
This time, he looked at the screen differently.
Not fear.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
He answered immediately.
"Who is this?"
No response.
Only breathing.
Massimo's eyes narrowed.
"Show yourself."
A voice finally spoke.
A man's voice.
Cold.
Calm.
"I see you found the envelope."
Massimo froze.
The stranger continued.
"You always were better at finding things than protecting them."
The rain seemed to disappear.
Even Marcus looked alarmed.
"Who are you?" Massimo asked.
A quiet laugh came through the phone.
Then the man answered.
"The person who knows why Elena disappeared."
Massimo stepped away from the SUV.
"Where is she?"
Another pause.
Then the voice said:
"Closer than you think."
The call ended.
Massimo stared at the phone.
Then he looked toward the station.
Toward the bench where he had waited every Friday.
Toward the place where Elena's photograph had been taken.
I followed his gaze.
And that was when I noticed something.
The old bench.
The same bench where he sat every week.
There was a small metal plate underneath it.
Something had been scratched into the surface.
A name.
Not Elena's.
Not Massimo's.
Mine.
My full name.
Cecilia Rowan.
I stepped back.
Massimo saw it.
And his entire expression changed.
Because beneath my name was another message.
Five words.
"She was watching you too."
Massimo reached for the metal plate.
Then his phone received a new message.
One photo.
One location.
One sentence.
May you like
"Come alone, Massimo. She is waiting."
And the location attached to the message was my home address.
