Chapter 3 - The Sister at the Table
Dante stared at the screen.
Sofia stood behind their father.
Alive father.
Living sister.
Victor beside them.
Three people Dante had trusted at different times for entirely different reasons.
One picture destroyed all three versions of his life.
Marco spoke first.
"Could be prerecorded."
Dante looked at the timestamp.
4:43 PM.
Current time.
"No."
Elena moved closer.
"Your sister?"
"Yes."
"Does she know?"
Dante gave a humorless laugh.
"She's standing beside him."
The screen flickered.
Sofia looked directly at the camera.
"Dante, if you're seeing this, don't come upstairs."
Then Lorenzo slapped her.
Hard.
Elena flinched.
Dante's entire body changed.
Marco grabbed his arm.
"That's what they want."
Dante stared at him.
"Take your hand off me."
"Dante."
"Now."
Marco released him.
Onscreen, Sofia lifted her head.
Blood touched her lip.
Lorenzo smiled.
"My son always believed fear was weakness."
His voice came through the laptop speakers.
"It isn't. Fear is architecture. Build enough of it, and people live inside whatever house you design for them."
Dante stepped toward the screen.
"What do you want?"
Lorenzo smiled wider.
"Room 417's ledger."
Dante looked around.
"What ledger?"
"Rose hid it before she betrayed me."
Elena whispered, "My mother."
Lorenzo's expression changed when he heard her voice.
"So Rose's daughter finally came home."
Elena went pale.
Dante positioned himself between her and the camera.
"She isn't part of this."
Lorenzo laughed.
"She was born into it."
Dante's eyes narrowed.
"What does that mean?"
"Bring her upstairs."
"No."
"Then Sofia dies."
Dante stared at his father.
Sofia suddenly shouted, "Don't!"
Victor grabbed her.
Lorenzo remained calm.
"Ten minutes."
The feed went dark.
Elena turned toward Dante.
"I'm going."
"No."
"That's your sister."
"And you're not currency."
"She'll die."
"So might you."
Elena's voice sharpened.
"You can't protect me by deciding for me."
Dante stopped.
The words hit harder than she intended.
He had been doing exactly that.
Not cruelly.
Not like Victor.
But control remained control even when wrapped in protection.
"Fine," Dante said. "Then we decide together."
Marco looked surprised.
Dante pointed toward the office.
"Search everything."
They began.
Drawers.
Shelves.
Walls.
Old cabinets.
Elena found nothing.
Then she remembered the photograph.
She pulled it from her robe pocket and studied it.
"My mother is standing outside this house."
Dante nodded.
"Look behind her."
Elena squinted.
A stone fountain appeared in the background.
"It's not there anymore."
"It is," Dante said.
"Where?"
"Under the new terrace."
They hurried upstairs through the hidden passage.
Dante sent Marco ahead with instructions to avoid the dining room.
Outside, afternoon light had begun fading.
The hot spring still steamed.
Elena stopped beside it.
"This is where you found me."
Dante looked toward the old terrace foundation.
"The fountain used to stand there."
They found a stone panel beneath a modern planter.
Dante moved it.
Behind the panel was a cavity.
Inside sat a metal box.
Elena's hands shook.
Dante handed it to her.
"You open it."
"Why?"
"Your mother hid it."
Elena unlocked it with the silver key.
Inside was a leather ledger.
Beneath it was another photograph.
Rose Marin.
Lorenzo Valeri.
And a young woman Dante knew immediately.
His mother.
Elena looked at him.
"She knew?"
Dante turned the photo over.
One sentence.
Trust Sofia only when she tells you the truth about the fire.
Dante read it twice.
"The fire?"
Twelve years earlier, the west wing had burned.
His mother died in that fire.
At least that was what Dante had been told.
Sofia had been seventeen.
Dante had pulled her from the building himself.
Or thought he had.
Elena opened the ledger.
Page after page contained coded transactions.
Names.
Dates.
Bribes.
Payments.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Victor Hale.
Another shocked Dante more.
Marco Bellini.
Elena saw it.
She looked toward him.
Dante closed the book.
Marco had served him fifteen years.
Saved his life twice.
Stood beside him at his father's funeral.
Dante didn't want to believe it.
Which was exactly why he needed to.
He called Marco.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Elena whispered, "Where is he?"
A door slammed somewhere inside the house.
Dante took Elena's hand.
"Stay with me."
They entered through the terrace.
The hallway was empty.
They reached the security room.
Door open.
Screens shattered.
No Marco.
On the floor lay his gun.
And blood.
Elena covered her mouth.
Dante picked up the weapon.
A phone rang.
Marco's.
It lay beneath the desk.
Dante answered.
Sofia's voice whispered, "Dante?"
"Where are you?"
"I escaped."
"Where?"
"East cellar."
"I'm coming."
"No."
Dante stopped.
Sofia began crying.
"He made me do it."
"Do what?"
"Help him get inside."
"Father?"
"I thought he was dead too."
Dante looked at Elena.
"What does he want with Rose's daughter?"
Sofia was silent.
"Sofia."
"He thinks Rose gave Elena something besides the key."
"What?"
"I don't know."
"You do."
"No."
"Tell me."
Sofia's breathing became uneven.
"Mom didn't die in the fire."
Dante froze.
"What?"
"She survived."
His vision narrowed.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know anymore."
"Anymore?"
Sofia sobbed.
"I knew where she was for years."
Dante leaned against the wall.
"You let me believe she was dead?"
"I was seventeen. Dad threatened you. He said if I told you, he'd kill her."
Dante could barely speak.
"Why is this happening now?"
"Because Rose found her."
Elena stepped closer.
"My mother?"
"Rose helped Mom escape."
A sound came through the phone.
Sofia gasped.
"Dante."
"What?"
"Someone's here."
The call ended.
Dante ran.
Elena followed despite his protest.
They reached the east cellar.
Door open.
No Sofia.
Only a chair.
Rope on the floor.
And a small pool of blood.
Elena found an envelope.
Her name was written across it.
She opened it.
Inside was a birth certificate.
Elena Marin.
Mother: Rose Marin.
Father:
The line had been altered.
A different name handwritten underneath.
Elena stared.
Dante took the paper.
The name written there was Lorenzo Valeri.
Elena looked up.
"No."
Before Dante could speak, a door behind the wine racks clicked open.
A woman stepped out of the darkness.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
Eyes Dante had seen every morning of his childhood.
His mother whispered his name.
"Dante."
And then she looked at Elena.
"My God."
May you like
Her hand covered her mouth.
"Rose's daughter."
