Chapter 5 - THE DRAWING ON THE REFRIGERATOR
“Get Emma upstairs.”
Damiano's voice cut through the room.
Sophia didn't move.
“My mother is outside.”
“And someone just disabled every camera.”
“I need to talk to her.”
“You will.”
Damiano took Emma's hand.
“After I make sure the road between you and her is safe.”
Sophia stared at him.
“You don't get to decide everything.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“But tonight I am responsible for keeping your daughter alive.”
That stopped her.
Damiano turned to his security team.
“No weapons near the child.”
Then he looked at Vincent.
“Bring Margaret inside.”
Vincent frowned.
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“What if—”
“Alone.”
Five minutes later, the front doors opened.
Margaret Hayes entered slowly.
Sophia couldn't breathe.
Her mother looked older than the woman in her memories, but her eyes were unmistakable.
“Mom?”
Margaret stopped.
For a long moment, neither woman moved.
Then Margaret whispered, “Sophia.”
Sophia crossed the room.
She wanted to hug her.
She wanted to slap her.
She wanted to ask why.
Instead, she simply stood there crying.
“You're alive.”
Margaret nodded.
“I am.”
“Why did you let me believe you were dead?”
“Because people who thought I was dead stopped looking for you.”
Sophia shook her head.
“That doesn't make it okay.”
“No.”
Margaret's voice broke.
“It doesn't.”
Emma stepped forward.
“Are you Mommy's mommy?”
Margaret looked at her.
Then smiled through tears.
“Yes.”
Emma considered that.
“You look tired.”
Margaret laughed softly.
“I am.”
Emma hugged her.
Margaret closed her eyes.
Sophia watched them.
Something inside her hurt.
Her mother had missed everything.
Every birthday.
Every Christmas.
Every scraped knee.
Every school play.
All because of a secret Sophia had never been allowed to understand.
Damiano stood nearby.
Margaret looked at him.
“You have your father's eyes.”
Damiano didn't answer.
“You knew Elena was alive,” he said.
Margaret nodded.
“She is.”
“Where?”
Margaret looked at the rosary in his hand.
“You found the key.”
“Yes.”
“Then you're finally ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Margaret reached into her coat and pulled out a small wooden box.
She handed it to Sophia.
Inside was a child's drawing.
A house.
A lake.
Two women.
And three children.
Sophia recognized herself.
But there was another little girl.
“Who is she?”
Margaret looked at Damiano.
“Elena's daughter.”
Damiano's expression hardened.
“You told me she had no daughter.”
“I told everyone that.”
“Why?”
“Because her daughter was the reason Elena disappeared.”
Sophia stared at the drawing.
“Where is she?”
Margaret's eyes filled.
“She grew up believing she had no family.”
Damiano's voice became quiet.
“What's her name?”
Margaret hesitated.
“Isabella.”
Everyone turned.
Isabella stood frozen near the doorway.
Sophia looked from her to Margaret.
“No.”
Isabella whispered, “Don't.”
Margaret's face crumpled.
“I'm sorry.”
Damiano stared at Isabella.
“You're Elena's daughter?”
Isabella nodded.
“My mother is Elena.”
The room went silent.
Suddenly, the bracelet made sense.
The rosary made sense.
The way Isabella had always known things about Damiano's family.
The reason she had been so desperate to stay close to him.
But another question remained.
“Why didn't you tell me?” Damiano asked.
“Because your mother made me promise.”
“Why?”
“Because the people who killed your father were still searching for her.”
Damiano looked toward Margaret.
“Who killed my father?”
Margaret's expression changed.
“That's the question you should be asking.”
“I am.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You're asking who pulled the trigger.”
Margaret pointed toward the ballroom.
“You should be asking who benefited from Marco's death.”
Vincent's face tightened.
Margaret noticed.
“You know.”
Vincent looked away.
Sophia suddenly understood.
“What aren't you telling us?”
Vincent finally spoke.
“Marco had discovered that someone was financing both sides of the family war.”
Damiano stared.
“What?”
“The same person was supplying information to every rival.”
“So the war wasn't spontaneous.”
“No.”
“Someone was making money from it.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Vincent looked at Margaret.
She answered.
“Thomas Carbone.”
Damiano's face hardened.
Thomas was one of the five men who had arrived to sign the peace agreement.
But Margaret continued.
“He wasn't working alone.”
Damiano's eyes narrowed.
“Who was with him?”
Margaret looked at Isabella.
Isabella shook her head.
“Don't.”
Margaret whispered one name.
“Marco's brother.”
Damiano froze.
“My uncle?”
Margaret nodded.
“Your uncle Rafael.”
Damiano took a step backward.
“Rafael died ten years ago.”
“No.”
Margaret looked at him.
“He didn't.”
Before anyone could respond, a gunshot shattered the window.
Margaret fell.
Sophia screamed.
Damiano caught her before she hit the floor.
“Mom!”
Margaret opened her eyes.
She was bleeding from the shoulder.
“I told you,” she whispered.
“What?”
“They know about Emma.”
Then Emma began crying.
She pointed toward the wooden box.
“Mommy.”
Sophia looked down.
Inside the box was a second photograph.
It showed Emma.
Taken that morning.
In the staff room.
Someone had been watching her all day.
May you like
On the back, one sentence was written.
SHE IS THE KEY TO THE LAST DOOR.
