Chapter 3 - The Dead Woman’s Diamond
Elena removed the ring immediately.
She placed it on the penthouse table between them.
“You used me.”
Dante stood near the windows overlooking Chicago.
“Yes.”
The admission shocked her more than denial would have.
“You knew Vivien would recognize it.”
“I suspected.”
“So tonight wasn’t about rescuing me.”
“Not entirely.”
Elena laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“I did rescue you.”
“For your own reasons.”
“At first.”
The final two words made her pause.
Dante turned.
“My sister was named Sofia.”
Elena said nothing.
“She was twenty-four when she died. Seven years ago.”
“What happened?”
“She supposedly drove off Lake Shore Drive after drinking.”
“Supposedly?”
“Sofia didn’t drink.”
Elena looked at the ring.
“Why would Vivien know her?”
“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”
Dante crossed toward a cabinet and removed a thin folder.
Inside was a photograph.
Four young women stood outside a lake house.
One was unmistakably Vivien, younger but recognizable.
Beside her stood a beautiful dark-haired woman wearing Elena’s diamond ring.
Sofia.
Elena’s breath caught.
“You knew Vivien knew your sister.”
“I discovered this photograph three weeks ago.”
“Where?”
“In a storage unit belonging to a man who disappeared shortly after Sofia died.”
Elena stared at him.
“And the invitation?”
“Arrived the following morning.”
“You think someone sent me that invitation because of you?”
“I think someone knew I had started investigating Sofia again.”
“That makes no sense. I had nothing to do with her.”
“That is the part I couldn’t understand.”
Until tonight.
Dante opened another folder.
He pushed a document toward her.
Elena read the name at the top.
ISABEL REYES.
Her mother.
“What is this?”
“A payroll record.”
The employer listed beneath it made Elena’s blood run cold.
HARLOW ESTATE.
Vivien’s maiden name was Harlow.
“My mother cleaned houses.”
“She cleaned the Harlow lake property during the summer Sofia died.”
Elena stared at him.
“No.”
“Did she ever mention them?”
“No.”
“Think.”
“I said no.”
Dante’s voice softened.
“Elena.”
“My mother has worked herself sick for twenty years. She has nothing to do with whatever happened to your sister.”
“I didn’t say she did.”
“You investigated her.”
“I investigated everyone.”
“You investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“How much do you know?”
“Enough to know you deserve better than Marcus Aldridge.”
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“No.”
For once, Dante looked almost ashamed.
Elena picked up her purse.
“I’m leaving.”
“I’ll have a driver take you.”
“I can get myself home.”
“At two in the morning?”
“I managed before meeting you.”
“Elena.”
She turned.
“You told me you were giving me a choice. But you had already chosen me before I ever walked into that hallway.”
Dante had no answer.
That hurt most.
Elena left.
Her mother was awake when Elena reached the small apartment in Pilsen.
Isabel Reyes sat at the kitchen table wearing her robe, a cup of tea untouched before her.
Her face changed when Elena entered.
“What happened?”
Elena placed the ring on the table.
Isabel went completely still.
Elena saw it.
“Mamá?”
Isabel stared at the diamond.
“Where did you get that?”
Elena’s heartbeat accelerated.
“You recognize it.”
Her mother stood abruptly.
“Where?”
“Dante Salvatore.”
The cup slipped from Isabel’s hand.
It shattered.
Elena did not move.
Neither did her mother.
“You know him.”
“No.”
“You know his name.”
“Everyone knew that family.”
“I didn’t.”
Isabel began collecting broken porcelain.
Her hands shook.
“Mamá, stop.”
“I’m tired.”
“Seven years ago, you worked at the Harlow lake house.”
Isabel froze.
Elena crouched beside her.
“Please.”
Her mother slowly sat back.
For a long moment, she seemed twenty years older.
Then she whispered, “I promised never to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Isabel looked at her daughter.
“The night Sofia Salvatore died, she came to the house.”
Elena’s breath stopped.
“She was terrified. Her dress was torn. There was blood on her arm. She asked me for a telephone.”
“What happened?”
“Vivien arrived with her father.”
Elena felt sick.
“What did they do?”
“I don’t know. Mr. Harlow told me to leave.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Isabel looked away.
“But Sofia gave me something first.”
She stood and disappeared into her bedroom.
When she returned, she carried an old metal sewing box.
From beneath spools of thread, she removed a tiny brass key.
“She put this in my hand and said if anything happened to her, I should give it to Dante.”
Elena stared.
“You kept it for seven years?”
“I was afraid.”
“Why?”
“Because the next morning, Mr. Harlow came to our apartment.”
Isabel’s eyes filled with tears.
“He knew where you went to school. He knew where your father worked. He told me Sofia had died in an accident and that good mothers understood when silence protected their children.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Her father died two years later in what police called a workplace accident.
A mechanic’s lift failed.
Suddenly the memory felt different.
“Did Dad know?”
“No.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Both women froze.
Another knock.
Then Dante’s voice.
“Elena.”
She opened the door.
He saw her face and immediately understood something had changed.
Isabel appeared behind her.
For seven years, Dante Salvatore had carried grief like armor.
When he saw Elena’s mother holding the brass key, that armor cracked.
“Where did you get that?”
Isabel began crying.
“Your sister.”
Dante did not breathe.
“She told me to give it to you.”
He stepped inside.
“What does it open?”
“I don’t know.”
Dante took the key.
Engraved along one side was a number.
Dante stared at it.
Then his face changed.
“What?”
Elena asked.
“Union Station.”
He looked at her.
“Sofia used locker 317 whenever she traveled.”
Thirty minutes later, they stood beneath the vaulted ceiling of Chicago Union Station.
Locker 317 had survived renovations in an older private-storage section.
Dante inserted the key.
It turned.
Inside sat a small leather bag.
Dante removed it carefully.
There were photographs.
A flash drive.
A ledger.
And an envelope.
On the front, written in faded blue ink:
DANTE.
His hands trembled.
Elena had not thought men like him trembled.
He opened it.
The letter was short.
Dante read silently.
Then handed it to Elena.
If you are reading this, I was right to be afraid.
The Harlows are laundering money through the charitable developments. Charles knows I found the accounts. Vivien helped him move the records after I confronted her.
But there is someone else.
Someone inside our family.
Do not trust—
The final portion had been torn away.
Elena looked up.
“Someone inside your family?”
Dante’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression hardened.
“When?”
A pause.
“Lock everything down.”
He disconnected.
“What happened?”
“Someone entered my penthouse twelve minutes after we left.”
“For what?”
Dante looked at Sofia’s letter.
“This.”
Elena suddenly understood.
Someone knew the locker had been opened.
Which meant the past was not dead.
May you like
It had been waiting.
And now it knew Elena’s name.
