Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN IN THE FAMILY PORTRAIT
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Dominic returned to the estate with Isabella beside him.
He had imagined this moment thousands of times during the three years he believed she was dead. In every version, he rushed through the front doors, found Emma, and watched mother and daughter fall into each other's arms.
The reality was more fragile.
Isabella sat in the back seat of the armored vehicle, holding a photograph of Emma as a toddler. She kept rubbing her thumb over the little girl's face as if she needed to reassure herself that the child was real.
“What if she doesn't remember me?” Isabella whispered.
Dominic took her hand.
“She remembers your voice. Your stories. Your songs. She has never stopped loving you.”
“What if she hates me?”
“She doesn't hate you.”
He looked out at the road.
“But she's been hurt. We'll let her decide how fast she wants to come close.”
Isabella nodded, tears shining in her eyes.
When they reached the mansion, Sophie met them at the door.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Her gaze moved to Isabella.
For a moment, she appeared unable to speak.
Then she stepped aside.
“Emma's upstairs.”
Dominic climbed the staircase with Isabella beside him.
Emma stood in the doorway of her bedroom, holding the teddy bear. She looked at Dominic first, then at the woman beside him.
The photograph in her hand slipped to the floor.
“Mommy?”
Isabella dropped to her knees.
“Hello, my little bird.”
Emma stared at her.
Then she ran.
Isabella caught her in both arms, sobbing as Emma buried her face against her shoulder.
“You came back,” Emma cried.
“I did, baby. I'm here.”
“You weren't gone because you didn't love me?”
Isabella held her tighter.
“Never. I loved you every single day.”
Emma began crying harder.
Dominic turned away, unable to hide his own tears.
Sophie stood in the hallway, wiping her cheeks.
For several minutes, the mansion was filled with the sound of a family finding one another again.
Then Emma pulled back.
“Mommy, I kept the bear safe.”
Isabella kissed her forehead.
“You did something very brave.”
“Daddy listened to the recordings.”
“I know.”
Emma hesitated.
“Does that mean the bad people are gone?”
Isabella's smile faded.
“Not yet, sweetheart.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“But they won't hurt you again.”
He wanted to believe those words.
He needed to make them true.
He sent Emma with Sophie to the kitchen for hot chocolate while Isabella followed him to the study.
Behind the desk hung a portrait of Salvatore Moretti, Dominic's father. The painting showed him standing beside a grand staircase, one hand resting on a cane.
Dominic had never liked the portrait. His father had always seemed to be watching him through the painted eyes.
He removed the frame.
Behind it, a small metal panel was concealed in the wall.
The key from the bluebird fit perfectly.
Inside the compartment lay a cassette recorder, several documents, and a photograph of a woman Dominic had never seen before.
She was young, perhaps twenty-five, with dark hair and a frightened expression.
On the back of the photograph, his father's handwriting read:
For my son, when he is finally ready to know the truth.
Dominic pressed play on the recorder.
Salvatore's voice emerged, older and strained.
“If you're hearing this, I have failed to protect you from the consequences of my choices.”
Dominic froze.
“I built the Moretti organization believing I could control the violence by keeping it within certain boundaries. I was wrong. The men who served me became more powerful than the rules I created.”
The recording crackled.
“Twenty years ago, a woman named Elena Rossi came to me with evidence that my brother Vincent was selling information to our enemies. She was a bookkeeper. She had no connection to our world, except that she had fallen in love with one of my men.”
Dominic looked at the photograph.
“Vincent accused her of stealing money. I believed him. I allowed him to make her disappear.”
Isabella covered her mouth.
Salvatore's voice broke.
“Years later, I learned Elena had a daughter. A little girl who was told her mother had abandoned her. I searched for that child, but by then, she had vanished.”
Dominic turned toward Isabella.
She looked as though she had seen a ghost.
“What's wrong?”
Isabella pointed at the photograph.
“That's my mother.”
Dominic stared at her.
“Your mother?”
“My father told me she died when I was a baby. He said she had been sick.”
Isabella picked up the photograph with trembling hands.
“I've seen this face in my dreams.”
The recorder continued.
“If you have found this, Vincent has probably returned. He will try to convince you that everything I did was necessary. Don't believe him. The organization is built on a lie, and the people who suffered because of it deserve justice.”
A final sentence followed.
“Your wife is connected to this story in ways she does not yet understand.”
The recording ended.
Dominic stared at the machine.
Isabella slowly sank into a chair.
“My whole life was a lie.”
He knelt beside her.
“We'll find the truth.”
Before she could answer, Marcus entered the study.
“We have a problem. Vanessa has agreed to cooperate with the authorities, but she insists on speaking to Isabella first.”
Dominic stood.
“Why?”
Marcus held out a photograph.
It showed Vanessa standing beside a woman outside a courthouse, several years before Isabella's supposed death.
The woman was Elena Rossi.
Isabella stared at the photograph.
“Vanessa knew my mother?”
Marcus nodded.
“Apparently, they were in contact before Isabella married Dominic.”
Dominic turned toward Isabella.
“Did you know?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Marcus placed a second document on the desk.
It was a letter written by Vanessa.
Isabella, I know what happened to your mother. If you ever want the truth, meet me at the place where the first woman disappeared.
At the bottom was an address.
An abandoned cemetery outside the city.
Dominic looked at the date.
The letter had been written two days before Isabella's car crash.
And on the back, in a different handwriting, someone had added a warning.
May you like
IF YOU GO TO THE CEMETERY, BRING NO ONE. THE WOMAN BURIED THERE IS STILL ALIVE.
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