Chapter 4 - What Sofia Left Behind
Dante’s house was not a house.
It was a fortress pretending to be a mansion.
Stone walls overlooked the harbor north of Boston. Cameras covered every entrance. Two security gates separated the road from the front door.
I should have felt safer.
I did not.
I sat at a kitchen island at two in the morning wearing borrowed sweatpants while Dante’s people tried to determine whether the photograph of my mother had actually been taken that night.
Leo slept upstairs.
I could not stop hearing him say Lena.
Dante entered carrying a wooden box.
“What’s that?”
“Sofia’s.”
He placed it in front of me.
“I haven’t opened it since her funeral.”
“Why now?”
“Because she left instructions.”
Inside were letters, photographs, flash drives and a small silver key.
One envelope had my name on it.
ALINA VALDEZ.
My hands trembled.
I opened it.
The letter was short.
Alina, if you are reading this, I failed to finish what your mother and I started.
I looked at Dante.
He remained silent.
I continued.
Sofia had discovered that Vittorio’s legitimate businesses were disguising an international money-laundering operation. More importantly, she had discovered evidence suggesting Gabriel Rosselli’s murder had been ordered because he planned to expose it.
The letter explained that Maria had kept one final piece of evidence hidden.
A ledger.
Not paper.
A coded digital archive.
Gabriel had created two encryption keys.
Maria possessed one.
The second had been hidden somewhere Vittorio would never think to search.
With his daughter.
With me.
I lowered the letter.
“I don’t have anything.”
Dante’s eyes moved to my necklace.
My hand instinctively covered it.
It was a plain silver locket.
My mother had given it to me on my eighteenth birthday.
“Absolutely not.”
“Alina.”
“No.”
He did not move.
I opened it myself.
Inside was the tiny photograph I had seen a thousand times—my mother holding me as a toddler.
Dante brought a small tool from a drawer.
“There’s a seam.”
I hated that he was right.
The back panel lifted.
Inside was a microSD card.
I stared at it.
My entire childhood suddenly felt manufactured.
Every apartment.
Every move.
Every warning.
Every time my mother had checked the locks twice.
“She made my whole life a hiding place.”
“She made your life possible.”
I looked at him sharply.
“You don’t get to romanticize this.”
“I’m not.”
“I spent eight months thinking she was dead.”
Dante’s voice softened.
“So did I.”
That angered me even more.
“You don’t get to miss her either.”
His jaw tightened.
“You think I don’t understand that.”
“No, I think men like you understand ownership. Not loss.”
He absorbed that without reacting.
Then his phone rang.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
“Say that again.”
Silence.
Then he put the phone on speaker.
A distorted voice filled the kitchen.
“Dante.”
My skin prickled.
Dante’s face became stone.
“Vittorio.”
So this was my uncle.
The man who may have murdered my father.
“Your waitress is causing quite a disturbance.”
My mouth went dry.
Dante motioned for me to remain silent.
“You shot at a restaurant full of civilians.”
“Not my finest employees.”
“You’ve become sloppy.”
Vittorio laughed.
“Still pretending you’re morally superior?”
Dante’s eyes hardened.
“What do you want?”
“The girl.”
I felt suddenly twelve years old.
“Not happening.”
“Then Maria dies.”
I lunged toward the phone.
Dante caught my wrist.
“Let me hear her.”
A pause.
Then breathing.
“Lena?”
My knees gave out.
Dante caught me before I hit the floor.
“Mom?”
“Baby, don’t—”
A slap sounded.
I screamed.
“Don’t touch her!”
Vittorio returned.
“Midnight tomorrow. Pier fourteen. Alina brings the locket.”
Dante stared at the microSD card.
“You’re assuming we have it.”
“I’m assuming Gabriel was sentimental.”
The call ended.
I stood shaking.
Dante reached for me.
I stepped away.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“She’s alive.”
“For now.”
“She is my mother.”
“And you are my niece.”
The words hit differently now.
I stared at him.
He seemed surprised he had said them.
“You don’t know me.”
“No.”
“Then don’t pretend we’re family.”
“I’m not pretending.”
His voice dropped.
“I failed your father. I failed Sofia. I will not fail you.”
Before I could respond, crying came through the baby monitor.
Leo.
I wiped my face.
“I’ll get him.”
Dante looked surprised.
“So will I.”
We reached the nursery together.
Leo stood gripping the crib rail.
When he saw me, he reached out.
I lifted him.
He pressed his damp face against my neck.
Then he did something strange.
He grabbed my locket.
Not randomly.
He turned it over and pressed his thumb against the tiny engraved dragon on the back.
A click sounded.
A second compartment opened.
Dante and I stared.
Inside was another key.
Smaller than a fingernail.
And beneath it, folded impossibly tight, was a strip of paper.
May you like
Three words were written in my mother’s handwriting.
TRUST THE BABY.
