Chapter 2 - THE WHISPER IN THE SUNROOM
The following week passed in a blur of polished silver, bleached linens, and heavy, suffocating quiet. Dominic Moretti rarely appeared in the main house before evening, spending his days in his second-floor study flanked by Marco and a revolving rotation of nervous-looking men in dark suits.
Elena kept her head down, scrubbing floors, dusting crown moldings, and trying to keep Mia out of trouble. But Mia was a child of bright colors and boundless curiosity, drawn inexorably toward the sunroom where the silent boy sat hour after hour.
On Thursday afternoon, Evelyn was downstairs inspecting the laundry, leaving Elena alone to dust the library adjacent to the sunroom. Through the open French doors, she watched her daughter approach Leo again.
Mia carried her small, wireless pink earbud case — a toy replica her aunt had given her before she died, though the tiny earbuds inside were real, salvaged from an old discarded phone.
"Look," Mia chirped, squatting down in front of the motionless boy. "My music box."
Leo stared straight ahead. His chest rose and fell in a slow, mechanical rhythm.
Mia didn't back away. With the innocent fearlessness only a three-year-old possesses, she reached up and gently pressed one tiny white earbud into Leo's right ear. The boy didn't flinch, yet a subtle tension flickered across his small jawline, like a wire tightening under sudden strain.
Leaning in close, her dark curls brushing his cheek, Mia cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered, "Listen."
Elena's heart seized in her chest. She dropped her feather duster, the wooden handle clattering loudly against the parquet floor.
Before she could rush across the room, Leo's head jerked to the side.
His eyes, blank and glazed for six long years, suddenly snapped into sharp, terrifying focus. He reached up with trembling fingers, gripped the earbud as if it were burning his skin, and pulled it out. He stared down at the tiny plastic device in his palm, his breath catching in his throat in a ragged, whistling gasp.
"M-ma..." a sound broke from Leo's lips, dry and cracked like earth splitting in a drought.
Elena froze in the doorway, tears instantly stinging her eyes. He wasn't deaf. He could hear. But something — or someone — had forced him into silence.
At that exact moment, the heavy oak library doors swung open behind Elena.
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Dominic Moretti stood in the threshold. His broad shoulders filled the frame, his eyes cold as winter steel as he looked past Elena into the sunroom, where his son was clutching a pink earbud and staring at Mia with wide, terrified eyes.
"What is happening here?" Dominic's voice was a low, dangerous rumble that shook the glass panes in the windows.
