CHAPTER 5 — THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
CHAPTER 5 — THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
The missing key changed everything.
Marco immediately sealed the entire mansion.
No one entered.
No one left.
Every employee—from chefs and gardeners to housekeepers and chauffeurs—was gathered in the grand ballroom while armed guards checked identification, searched personal belongings, and compared fingerprints against employment records.
The atmosphere felt less like a home and more like a military compound.
I remained under guard.
Not in the basement this time.
Dante ordered that I stay in a small sitting room across from the nursery, where two guards stood outside the door at all times.
"You still don't trust me," I said as he entered the room.
"No."
"Then why move me?"
He looked through the window toward the nursery.
"Because my daughters do."
That wasn't trust.
It was necessity.
He sat across from me, placing a thick leather folder on the coffee table.
"I want you to look at something."
He opened the folder.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
Most showed his late wife, Elena Moretti, smiling with the twins when they were babies.
She had kind eyes and dark auburn hair that fell in soft waves over her shoulders.
She looked nothing like the woman I had imagined from all the stories I'd heard.
She looked... gentle.
Then Dante slid another photograph toward me.
It was old.
The edges had yellowed with age.
Five people stood outside a stone church somewhere in Italy.
An elderly priest.
Two young couples.
And between them...
An older woman with silver hair.
My breath caught.
"No..."
Dante studied my reaction.
"You recognize her."
I picked up the photograph with shaking hands.
"That's my grandmother."
Lucia Romano.
She looked twenty years younger, but there was no mistaking those bright eyes or the tiny scar above her left eyebrow.
She was smiling.
Standing beside...
Dante's wife.
My pulse raced.
"How is this possible?"
Dante answered quietly.
"The photograph was taken thirty-one years ago."
"My wife was five years old."
"My grandmother never told me she knew your family."
"She didn't know my family."
He pointed to the little girl beside Lucia.
"She knew Elena."
I stared at the image.
My grandmother had one arm wrapped protectively around the little girl.
Not casually.
Like someone shielding a child.
Dante leaned back.
"I found that picture in my wife's personal safe after she died."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"I didn't know who the woman was."
He looked directly into my eyes.
"Until now."
A knock interrupted us.
Marco entered carrying another folder.
"We finished interviewing the staff."
"And?"
"No matches."
"No fake identities."
"No obvious leaks."
Dante frowned.
"So our traitor is still here."
Marco nodded grimly.
"Or he was never an employee."
Before anyone could respond, a tiny voice came from the hallway.
"Miss Ava?"
I turned.
Isabella stood in the doorway wearing blue pajamas, clutching her stuffed rabbit.
One of the guards hurried after her.
"I'm sorry, sir. She slipped past us."
Dante immediately stood.
"Isabella, you should be resting."
She ignored him.
Her eyes stayed on me.
"I had another dream."
I knelt in front of her.
"What happened?"
She hesitated.
"Mommy was crying."
The room became still.
"What else did you see?" I asked gently.
"A train."
Dante frowned.
"A train?"
She nodded.
"And a lady."
"What lady?"
"The one in the picture."
My heart nearly stopped.
"What picture?"
She pointed to the old photograph still lying on the table.
"The nice lady."
"My grandmother?" I whispered.
Isabella nodded.
"Mommy told her to run."
Dante slowly turned toward me.
"She couldn't possibly know who's in that photograph."
"No one showed it to her."
Marco looked unsettled.
"Children remember more than adults think."
Isabella tugged gently on my sleeve.
"The lady gave Mommy something."
"What did she give her?"
"A shiny key."
The room fell silent.
The silver key.
The one that had disappeared from the dead intruder's pocket.
I looked at Dante.
He was thinking the exact same thing.
"Isabella," he said carefully, "where did Mommy hide the key?"
The little girl closed her eyes, trying to remember.
Then she smiled.
"In the music room."
Dante's expression changed instantly.
"There is no music room."
"Not anymore," Marco said quietly.
Dante looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
Marco hesitated.
"Before the east wing was renovated after Elena's death..."
"There was an old piano room."
Dante's face went pale.
"It was sealed."
Marco nodded.
"Three years ago."
No one had entered that room since Elena died.
If Isabella's memory was real...
Then whatever Elena had hidden there...
Had remained untouched for three years.
Dante grabbed his jacket.
"Marco."
"Yes?"
"Get four men."
He looked at me.
"You're coming with us."
"Why?"
"Because somehow..."
He glanced at the photograph of my grandmother and his wife one last time.
"...our pasts were connected long before either of us was born."
As we stepped into the hallway, none of us noticed the security camera mounted above the staircase.
A tiny red light blinked once.
May you like
Someone, somewhere inside the mansion...
Was watching every move we made.
