Chapter 6 - ISABELLE'S RETURN
Salvatore Moretti entered my house without permission.
That alone was enough to start a war.
But he wasn't holding a weapon.
He walked through my front door with six men behind him and looked older than the last photograph I'd seen.
His hair was almost entirely gray.
His face was thinner.
His eyes were tired.
He looked at Grace.
“My daughter.”
Grace didn't move.
“You lied to me.”
Salvatore nodded.
“I did.”
“You told me you were dead.”
“I had to.”
She stepped toward him.
“Why?”
“Because the people hunting Isabelle were hunting you too.”
I raised my gun.
“Start talking.”
Salvatore looked at me.
“You still think I'm your enemy.”
“You killed my father.”
“No.”
“You destroyed three of my shipments.”
“Yes.”
“You ordered an attack on my men.”
“Yes.”
“You tried to take my territory.”
“Yes.”
I stared.
“Then why shouldn't I kill you?”
“Because I never ordered Isabelle's murder.”
I lowered the gun slightly.
“Who did?”
Salvatore looked toward the girls.
“Victor Hale.”
The name landed like a hammer.
“Why?”
“Because Victor was never your attorney.”
“Then what was he?”
“A handler.”
“For whom?”
Salvatore's eyes darkened.
“For the Romano family.”
I felt something inside me crack.
“My family?”
“Your father wasn't the boss you believed him to be.”
I remembered the old stories.
My father had built everything.
He had taught me loyalty.
Strength.
Silence.
But there had always been missing pieces.
Salvatore continued.
“Your father was part of a network that moved money, weapons, information, people.”
I stared.
“And Victor?”
“Victor was assigned to watch you.”
“Since when?”
“Since you were sixteen.”
I looked toward Grace.
She looked devastated.
“Isabelle found out,” Salvatore said.
“She discovered Victor had been controlling Dominic's life?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“Because she knew you would confront him.”
“I would have.”
“And Victor would have killed you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You expect me to believe that?”
Salvatore looked at Nora.
“Ask your daughter.”
I froze.
“What does Nora know?”
“She remembers the night Isabelle disappeared.”
Nora was standing beside Grace.
I walked toward her.
“Nora.”
She looked up.
“Do you remember Mommy?”
She nodded.
“Where did she go?”
Nora pointed toward the back garden.
“The door.”
“What door?”
She took my hand.
Then she led me outside.
We crossed the lawn.
She stopped beside an old oak tree.
“There.”
I saw nothing.
Grace walked toward the tree.
She noticed a loose stone near the roots.
She lifted it.
Beneath it was a metal box.
Inside was a phone.
The screen lit up when I touched it.
One video.
I pressed play.
Isabelle appeared.
Alive.
Her hair was shorter.
She looked frightened.
But she was smiling.
“Dominic.”
I couldn't breathe.
“If you're watching this, it means Grace succeeded.”
I looked at Grace.
Isabelle continued.
“I need you to understand something.”
She paused.
“I didn't leave because I stopped loving you.”
My eyes burned.
“I left because someone inside our family was preparing to take Nora.”
She looked away.
“I made a deal with Salvatore.”
I stared at him.
“He agreed to hide me.”
The video continued.
“I couldn't trust the police.”
“I couldn't trust your men.”
“I couldn't trust your attorney.”
“And I couldn't trust you.”
That sentence hurt more than everything else.
Isabelle looked directly into the camera.
“Not because you were guilty.”
“Because I knew you would try to protect me.”
She smiled sadly.
“And that would have gotten you killed.”
The screen went black.
Then another video appeared.
A date.
Six months after Isabelle's funeral.
She was standing in a hospital room.
Holding a newborn baby.
Nora.
I stopped breathing.
Isabelle kissed Nora's forehead.
Then she looked at the camera.
“The baby is safe.”
She turned.
Someone entered the room.
Victor Hale.
He looked at Isabelle.
Then at Nora.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Dominic will never know.”
The video ended.
Behind me, Grace whispered:
“He knew.”
I turned.
“Victor knew she was alive.”
Salvatore nodded.
“And he knows where she is now.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice whispered:
“Dominic.”
My heart stopped.
I knew that voice.
I had dreamed about it for fourteen months.
“Isabelle?”
A breath.
Then:
“Please don't come looking for me.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Then a second message arrived.
They have the girls.
I turned.
The garden was empty.
Grace was gone.
May you like
Marco was gone.
And so were my daughters.
