Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN IN THE RED DRESS
By sunrise, Dante had learned two things.
Someone had buried three bodies beneath the warehouse his family had destroyed.
And someone had spent eleven years making certain he never discovered them.
He stood in the hospital corridor outside the room where Elena was undergoing monitoring after the previous night's attack. The doctors insisted the baby appeared healthy, but they wanted Elena to remain under observation.
Dante had agreed to everything.
It was the first time in his life he had been grateful that money could buy privacy, silence, and an entire medical team prepared to answer a phone at any hour.
It was also the first time he understood how little those things mattered when the person he loved was afraid of him.
Elena had allowed him to sit beside her bed.
She had not allowed him to hold her hand.
"Did your father really die twelve years ago?" she asked.
"That's what the death certificate says."
"And the body?"
Dante looked at the floor.
"There was a private burial."
"Did you see him?"
"No."
Elena's eyes closed.
"Dante."
"I was told the injuries were too severe."
"By whom?"
"My uncle. The family physician. The funeral director."
"All people who worked for your family."
He didn't argue.
A nurse entered to check Elena's blood pressure. Dante stepped into the hallway.
Marcus was waiting with a folder.
"We have a lead on Victoria."
Dante opened it.
A photograph showed Victoria entering a private medical facility in Milwaukee two days earlier. She was wearing a baseball cap and carrying a small overnight bag.
"What's the facility?"
"A pediatric rehabilitation center."
Dante looked up.
"Why would she go there?"
Marcus handed him another photograph.
A little girl sat in a wheelchair near a garden window. She had dark curls, a small scar beneath her chin, and a serious expression.
Dante recognized the eyes.
His own eyes.
He gripped the photograph.
"Isabella."
"We don't know for certain."
"Run the records."
"We did. The child was admitted under the name Grace Bell. No biological parents listed. Her medical file is restricted."
"Who pays the bills?"
"An account linked to Victoria."
Dante stared at the picture.
His daughter was alive.
Or a child had been deliberately placed in front of him to make him believe she was.
Either possibility made his hands shake.
"Get me to Milwaukee."
Marcus nodded.
Before Dante could leave, Elena appeared at the doorway.
She had changed into a loose sweater and maternity pants. Her face was pale, but her eyes were clear.
"Where are you going?"
"Milwaukee."
"Why?"
He showed her the photograph.
Elena studied it for a long moment.
"She looks like you."
"I know."
"Is this the daughter you buried?"
"I think so."
Elena handed the photograph back.
"Then I'm coming."
"No."
Her expression sharpened.
"Try that again."
"You were nearly attacked last night. The doctor wants you resting."
"And you think sitting in this room while you disappear into another secret is going to help me rest?"
"I'm trying to keep you safe."
"Then stop treating me like a piece of property you can lock away whenever the world becomes dangerous."
Dante absorbed the words.
For years, he had believed control was the same as protection.
Now he was beginning to understand how often control had made Elena feel abandoned.
"All right," he said finally. "But you stay beside me, and if the doctor tells us to stop, we stop."
Elena nodded.
"Agreed."
Three hours later, they arrived at the rehabilitation center.
The director greeted them with nervous politeness. She confirmed that Grace Bell was a patient but refused to disclose more without proper authorization.
Dante placed a photograph of the child on her desk.
"Is this girl my daughter?"
The director's face changed.
Elena saw it immediately.
"You know something," she said.
The woman looked toward the closed office door.
Then she whispered, "Victoria told us you were dangerous."
Dante's expression went cold.
"What else did she tell you?"
"That you had tried to take the child away from her mother. That the Moretti family had killed Sofia Bellini and would kill the girl too if you found her."
Elena felt sick.
"Where is Sofia now?"
The director shook her head.
"I don't know. Victoria brought the child here six months ago. She paid for everything, but she never allowed us to contact the legal guardian."
"Where is the girl?"
"She's in the garden."
Dante walked through the corridor as if he were approaching a bomb.
At the far end of the garden, a little girl sat beneath a tree, arranging white stones into a circle.
He stopped several feet away.
She looked up.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then the girl studied his face.
"You're the man in the picture."
Dante crouched.
"What picture, sweetheart?"
"The one Mommy keeps in her bag."
His throat tightened.
"What's your mommy's name?"
The girl hesitated.
"Sofia."
Elena covered her mouth.
Dante swallowed.
"Do you know who I am?"
The child looked at him carefully.
Then she asked a question that seemed to drain all the warmth from the morning.
"Are you the bad man who made Mommy hide me?"
Dante couldn't answer.
A voice came from behind them.
"No, Isabella. He's the man who was supposed to protect you."
Victoria stood at the garden entrance, wearing the same crimson dress she had worn the night Elena found her in their bedroom.
Her face was pale.
May you like
And in her hand was a small black pistol.
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