Chapter 7 - The Room With the Open DoorI returned to the Moretti mansion the next afternoon.
Sophia was still inside the car.
But someone had smashed the rear window.
A gloved hand reached through.
I grabbed Sophia and pulled her toward me.
Luca fired once into the air.
The attacker ran.
Two men chased him.
“Drive!” Luca shouted.
The driver accelerated.
Sophia buried her face against me.
“Mama!”
“I have you.”
My hands were shaking.
Luca received a call.
“They got him.”
“Who?”
He listened.
Then his face changed.
“Marco.”
Rosa’s nephew.
He worked maintenance at the mansion.
He had access to the east wing.
Security codes.
Delivery entrances.
Everything.
Back at the mansion, Marco sat handcuffed in Alessandro’s study.
Alessandro arrived from the hospital with his shoulder bandaged.
“You should be in a hospital,” I said.
“I dislike hospitals.”
“You were shot.”
“I noticed.”
Isabella rolled her eyes.
“Apparently stubbornness is genetic.”
Alessandro almost smiled.
Then he faced Marco.
“You worked for Enzo.”
Marco stared at the floor.
“He paid me.”
“You photographed Elena?”
“Yes.”
My skin crawled.
“You followed my daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To scare Alessandro.”
“She is three.”
“I never planned to hurt her.”
I stepped forward.
“You smashed the window beside her head.”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“People keep saying that after they put my child in danger.”
Alessandro placed a hand on my shoulder.
I shook it off.
“I’m fine.”
He nodded.
Marco explained everything.
He had unlocked Isabella’s bedroom.
Rosa had been forced to cooperate later.
Enzo had used Isabella to guide Sophia toward the room because he wanted Alessandro to see another little girl standing where his daughter once stood.
Psychological warfare.
Cruel and calculated.
The photograph had been Marco’s.
The note had been Enzo’s.
But Enzo had made one mistake.
He assumed grief made people predictable.
Instead, Sophia had reminded Isabella of herself.
And Isabella had chosen to come home.
Marco was arrested.
Rosa’s brother was reunited with his family.
The evidence Isabella recorded was enough to keep Enzo behind bars while investigators reopened the kidnapping case.
Three days later, I packed our things.
Alessandro found me carrying a suitcase downstairs.
“You’re leaving.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I stared at him.
“Do you really need me to explain?”
“No.”
He looked toward Sophia, who was sleeping on the sofa.
“I can protect you.”
“That sentence is exactly why we need to leave.”
His expression tightened.
“Someone nearly took her.”
“Because of this house.”
“Because of me.”
I appreciated that he said it.
“Yes.”
Isabella entered quietly.
“Where will you go?”
“My sister has a place outside the city.”
“Is it safe?”
“I don’t know. But it’s normal.”
Alessandro looked toward the east wing.
“I don’t know how to give anyone normal.”
“No,” I said. “You don’t.”
He nodded.
There was no argument.
No threat.
No demand that I stay.
He simply picked up my suitcase.
“I’ll carry this to the car.”
That surprised me more than anything else he had done.
At the front door, Sophia woke.
She rubbed her eyes.
“Are we going home?”
“Yes, baby.”
She saw Alessandro.
“Are you coming?”
He crouched.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother says you need somewhere safe.”
Sophia considered that.
Then she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Don’t be sad.”
Alessandro froze.
Sophia whispered something into his ear.
I couldn’t hear it.
When she released him, his eyes were wet.
We drove away.
I thought that was the end.
Six months later, a package arrived.
No threat.
No photograph taken from across the street.
Just a small wooden box.
Inside were two things.
A butterfly made from painted wood.
And a photograph.
This one had been taken openly.
Alessandro and Isabella stood together in the garden.
Behind them, the forbidden bedroom window was open.
On the back, Isabella had written:
We finally opened the room.
Then my phone rang.
It was her.
“Elena?”
“Hi.”
“You should come tomorrow.”
“Why?”
She laughed.
“Because my father is about to do something nobody in New York will believe.”
May you like
“What?”
“Throw away the key.”
