Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE OF SECRETS
Dante moved Claire and Mia to a secluded estate outside Seattle.
Claire hated it.
The gates.
The cameras.
The armed guards.
The constant sense that someone was watching.
But Mia loved the enormous library.
She called it “the castle.”
Dante let her choose a room.
She chose the one with the moon-shaped window.
Within three days, something strange happened.
Mia began trusting him.
She asked him questions.
Where did he learn to drive?
Why did he have scars?
Could he really fight ten men?
Dante answered most questions.
The difficult ones he avoided.
Claire watched from the doorway one evening as Mia sat beside him at the piano.
“You're terrible,” Mia announced.
Dante looked offended.
“I am not terrible.”
“You only know three songs.”
“I know enough.”
Mia giggled.
Claire felt something painful twist inside her chest.
This was what Dante had missed.
Bedtime stories.
Lost teeth.
School projects.
Christmas mornings.
The tiny things that became enormous memories.
Then Claire discovered the file.
It was hidden inside a locked drawer in Dante's study.
She wasn't snooping.
At least, that's what she told herself.
The drawer had been left open.
Inside was a photograph.
Her photograph.
Taken six years earlier.
She was pregnant.
Claire froze.
Beneath it were dozens of photographs.
Her apartment.
Her hospital.
Mia's first birthday.
Mia's first day of school.
Dante had been watching.
She stormed into his office.
“You lied to me.”
Dante looked up.
“What happened?”
She threw the photographs onto his desk.
“You watched us.”
His face went pale.
“Claire—”
“For six years.”
“I never approached you.”
“That doesn't make it better!”
“I needed to know you were safe.”
“You let me think you abandoned me!”
“I thought if you believed I was gone, you'd stop being a target.”
She slapped the desk.
“You don't get to decide what kind of pain I can survive!”
Dante stood.
“You think I don't know that?”
“Then why?”
“Because every time I saw you, I wanted to come home.”
His voice cracked.
“I nearly did.”
Claire went silent.
“I stood outside your apartment on Mia's first birthday.”
Her eyes filled.
“Why didn't you knock?”
“Because three men were watching the building.”
He looked at the photographs.
“I stayed in my car until midnight.”
Claire's anger faltered.
Then she noticed something.
A photograph of Mia at age three.
A man stood blurred in the background.
Claire zoomed in.
She knew him.
“That's Vincent.”
Dante nodded.
“He never betrayed me.”
Claire stared.
“What?”
“Vincent wasn't the traitor.”
“Then who was?”
Dante's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Say that again.”
A pause.
“Understood.”
He hung up.
Claire waited.
“Who was it?”
Dante looked at her.
“My brother.”
Claire's breath caught.
“Your brother is dead.”
May you like
“I thought he was.”
The room went cold.
