Chapter 3 - The Ring in the Evidence Bag
Arya waited until the children were asleep before confronting Dante.
He was in the library, standing beside the fireplace with a glass of untouched whiskey in his hand. His jacket lay across a chair. His tie had been loosened, and for the first time since she'd met him, he looked less like a king and more like a man who had received news he couldn't control.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Something that doesn't concern you."
"Your sons' mother may be involved. That concerns three little boys who already believe she might come home."
Dante's fingers tightened around the glass.
"The police found a body in a warehouse near the waterfront. A woman. The identification is incomplete, but she was wearing a ring that belonged to my wife."
"Was it her ring?"
"I don't know."
"Then why are you acting like you do?"
He turned sharply. "Because my wife died in a car bomb, and the people responsible were never all brought to justice."
The confession silenced her.
He continued, his voice controlled but strained. "Two years ago, I was supposed to be in that car. Elena took it instead. The explosion killed her and nearly killed the driver. Since then, I've spent every day making sure nothing can happen to my sons."
"Except they were so frightened of you last night that they couldn't tell you they missed their mother."
His eyes flashed.
"You have no idea what I've done to keep them alive."
"You're right," Arya said. "I don't. But I know what fear does to children. It makes them believe that if they behave perfectly, nobody else will disappear."
Dante looked away.
For a moment, she thought he might throw her out.
Instead, he asked, "Did Mia ever ask about her father?"
Arya's expression changed.
"That's not part of this conversation."
"Your file says he left."
"My file says what I told the agency. It doesn't say everything."
"Then tell me."
"No."
Dante gave a humorless laugh. "You expect me to trust someone who keeps secrets?"
"I expect you to understand that not every secret is a threat."
She left him by the fireplace.
The next morning, the mansion was filled with the sound of hurried footsteps and low conversations. Dante had summoned his security chief, a broad-shouldered former detective named Salvatore Rizzo, and two men Arya had never seen before.
She took the children to breakfast and deliberately kept the television off.
Leo noticed the tension immediately.
"Something bad happened."
"Your father is handling an adult problem."
"Is Mommy coming back?" Enzo asked.
Arya set down the pitcher of orange juice.
"I don't know, sweetheart."
He looked at her as though she'd betrayed him.
"You said you wouldn't leave."
"I won't."
"But you don't know about Mommy."
"No," Arya admitted. "I don't."
Enzo pushed his plate away.
Across the table, Mateo reached for his brother's hand. Leo, who usually mocked anything emotional, silently slid his last piece of bacon toward Enzo.
Arya pretended not to notice.
Later that morning, she found a small wooden box beneath a loose floorboard in the children's playroom. She might have missed it if Mia hadn't dropped Mr. Buttons beside the wall and heard something rattle.
Inside the box were several folded drawings, a photograph of Elena holding the triplets as newborns, and a small silver key.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written six words in faded blue ink.
If anything happens, trust the woman.
Arya read the sentence twice.
The woman who?
She carried the box to Dante's office.
He was alone, studying a security photograph.
When he saw the photograph in Arya's hand, the color drained from his face.
"Where did you get that?"
"Under a floorboard in the playroom."
He snatched the box, then stopped himself when he saw the children's drawings inside.
His fingers trembled.
"Elena wrote this."
"Who was she telling you to trust?"
Dante turned the photograph over again.
"I don't know."
"Did your wife expect something to happen to her?"
He said nothing.
Arya stepped closer.
"Dante, if you want your sons to stop believing their mother will walk through that door, you have to stop treating the truth like a weapon."
He looked up.
"You think I don't want the truth?"
"I think you're terrified of what it might cost you."
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Dante opened a drawer and took out an old photograph of Elena standing beside a woman in a dark coat. The woman's face was partly obscured by a shadow.
"I've seen this woman before," he said. "At the funeral. She disappeared before I could speak to her."
"Do you know her name?"
"No."
A knock interrupted them.
Salvatore entered without waiting for permission.
"Boss, we checked the warehouse. The ring is real. But the body isn't Elena's."
Dante exhaled.
Relief crossed his face, followed immediately by anger.
"Who is she?"
"A former employee. She worked in your wife's charity office."
Dante's expression became unreadable.
"Name?"
"Claudia Bennett."
Salvatore hesitated.
"There's something else. Her apartment was searched before the police arrived. Whoever did it knew exactly what they were looking for."
Dante stood.
"What did they take?"
"We don't know."
Arya looked down at the silver key in the box.
Its tiny tag bore a number.
214.
And suddenly she remembered something Elena's youngest son had said the night before.
A room.
May you like
A locked room in the east wing.
A room the boys insisted their mother still visited in their dreams.
