Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Came Back From the Dead
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
I could only stare at the woman standing behind my bedroom door.
The woman everyone believed was dead.
The woman Massimo Corvelli had spent six years searching for.
Elena.
She looked nothing like the ghost I had imagined.
She was real.
She was standing there.
Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, slightly messy, like she had been running for hours.
Her face was thinner than the photograph.
Older.
Tired.
But her eyes were exactly the same.
The same eyes that looked back at me from the picture Massimo carried every Friday.
The same eyes that had made a powerful man sit in the rain for six years.
"Cecilia."
Her voice was quiet.
Almost afraid.
I stepped backward.
My phone was still pressed against my ear.
Massimo heard everything.
"Is that her?"
I couldn't answer.
Elena looked at the phone in my hand.
Then she whispered:
"He can't know I'm here."
My heart stopped.
I finally found my voice.
"Why?"
Her expression changed.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Something worse.
Regret.
"Because if Massimo finds me now, people will die."
The words should have sounded impossible.
But after everything that happened that night, I believed them.
I looked at the woman standing in my bedroom.
A woman who had somehow entered my locked apartment.
A woman who was supposed to be buried.
A woman whose name had been carved beneath the bench where Massimo waited.
"How did you get in?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she looked toward the phone.
"Cecilia."
Massimo's voice came through.
"Move away from her."
Elena closed her eyes.
For a moment, she looked like someone who had been waiting years to hear that voice.
Then she shook her head.
"You don't understand."
Massimo's voice became colder.
"I understand enough."
"No."
Her voice cracked.
"You understand what happened to you."
She looked directly at me.
"You don't understand what happened to me."
The room went silent.
I didn't know what to believe anymore.
Part of me wanted to run.
Part of me wanted answers.
And another part of me couldn't stop thinking about one thing.
Massimo had spent six years waiting for her.
And now she was standing in front of me.
But she looked terrified of him.
"Elena," Massimo said.
His voice softened.
Just slightly.
"Where have you been?"
She looked away.
The question seemed to hurt more than anger would have.
"Somewhere you couldn't find me."
"Why?"
"Because I was trying to keep you alive."
The words landed heavily.
Massimo didn't respond.
Neither did I.
Elena walked slowly into the room.
She kept her hands visible.
Like she wanted to prove she wasn't a threat.
"I knew someone would eventually come after you."
"Who?"
She looked at me.
Then at the phone.
"I can't say."
Massimo's voice sharpened.
"You called me."
"Because I needed to know if you were still looking."
A pause.
"And you were."
I noticed something then.
The sadness on Elena's face.
She hadn't called because she wanted to return.
She had called because she needed proof.
Proof that after six years, Massimo still cared.
Proof that she hadn't been forgotten.
"Why did you leave?" I asked.
Both of them looked at me.
I immediately realized I had asked the question neither of them wanted to answer.
Elena lowered her eyes.
"Because I discovered something about Massimo."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
She looked toward the window.
"Something about the people around him."
Massimo interrupted.
"Elena."
"No."
Her voice became stronger.
"You need to hear this."
Silence.
"Six years ago, the accident wasn't an accident."
I looked at the phone.
Massimo didn't speak.
And that scared me.
Because this was a man who always had something to say.
Someone who controlled every room he entered.
But now?
He was silent.
"Who did it?" he asked.
Elena swallowed.
"I don't know."
"You disappeared because you didn't know?"
"I disappeared because the person responsible was someone close to you."
The room felt colder.
Someone close.
Someone trusted.
Someone who had access.
Someone who knew enough to make a woman disappear.
Massimo's breathing changed.
"Who?"
Elena looked at me.
Then at the door.
"I can't tell you here."
"Why?"
"Because this apartment isn't safe anymore."
I looked around.
My apartment.
My home.
The place where I thought nothing bad could happen.
A place where I kept old books and plants.
A place where I ate dinner alone after long shifts.
Someone had entered it.
Someone had left messages.
Someone had been watching me.
"Why me?" I asked.
Elena looked at me.
And the answer came immediately.
"Because you were the first person who saw him as a person."
I didn't understand.
She continued.
"Everyone around Massimo either feared him or needed something from him."
Her voice softened.
"But you gave him an umbrella."
I looked down.
The same blue umbrella was still beside my bed.
A ridiculous little thing.
A simple gesture.
And somehow it had pulled me into something much bigger than myself.
"You noticed his pain before his power."
Elena looked at the phone.
"That's why they chose you."
My heart sank.
"Who chose me?"
She didn't answer.
Because suddenly, we heard something.
A sound from outside.
Not inside.
Outside.
A car door closing.
Then another.
Elena's face changed instantly.
Fear.
Real fear.
"They found me."
Massimo heard her.
"Who?"
Elena walked toward the window.
She barely looked outside before stepping back.
"Massimo."
"What?"
Her voice dropped.
"They aren't here for me."
A pause.
"They're here for Cecilia."
I froze.
The lights in my apartment flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
My phone screen became the only light.
Massimo's voice came through immediately.
"Stay where you are."
Elena grabbed my arm.
"Do you trust him?"
I looked at her.
"What?"
"Do you trust Massimo?"
I didn't know how to answer.
Because I knew almost nothing about him.
But I knew one thing.
Every Friday, he sat alone waiting for a woman everyone told him was dead.
And when she finally came back, the first thing she did was warn me.
I whispered:
"I don't know."
Elena nodded.
"Good."
That answer surprised me.
"Good?"
"Because people who trust too quickly are the easiest to control."
A noise came from the hallway outside my apartment.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Careful.
Someone was walking toward my door.
Elena moved instantly.
She grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the entrance.
"Where are we going?"
She pointed toward my bedroom wall.
"There."
I stared.
"That's a wall."
"No."
Her eyes locked onto mine.
"It's a door."
I touched the wall.
Nothing.
Then Elena pressed a small section near my bookshelf.
A hidden mechanism clicked.
The wooden panel moved slightly.
I stepped back.
I had lived in this apartment for three years.
I had never known there was another room.
Massimo's voice became urgent through the phone.
"Cecilia, listen to me."
I looked at the opening.
"Do not go inside."
Too late.
Elena was already opening it.
Behind the wall was a narrow hidden passage.
Old.
Dark.
And filled with things that made my blood run cold.
Photographs.
Documents.
Files.
All about Massimo.
All about Elena.
And one picture sitting at the very top.
A picture taken outside Hawthorne Junction station.
It showed Massimo sitting on the bench.
Waiting.
But someone else was standing behind him.
Watching.
I picked up the photograph.
Then I saw the date.
It was taken seven years ago.
One year before Elena disappeared.
And the person standing behind Massimo wasn't a stranger.
It was me.
Before I ever worked at the station.
Before I ever met him.
Before I ever handed him an umbrella.
Elena whispered:
"Cecilia..."
I slowly turned around.
"How do you have a picture of me from seven years ago?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she looked past me.
Toward the hidden passage.
Her face went pale.
May you like
Because someone was already inside.
And they had just whispered my name.
