Chapter 3 - The Boy Who Hadn’t Spoken in Two Years
The official story of Sofia Castellano’s death had always been simple.
A highway accident.
Heavy rain.
A vehicle that lost control.
No survivors except the children, who had been found strapped into their car seats in the back.
Dominic had accepted the police report because grief had left him barely capable of breathing.
But now he held the photograph in his study and saw the lie.
The SUV pictured was not Sofia’s car.
Matteo stood across from him.
“Could be manipulated.”
“Check it.”
“I already did.”
Dominic looked up.
“It’s real.”
The room became very quiet.
“When?”
“Approximately thirty minutes before the crash.”
Dominic stared at his wife’s face.
She was turning toward the camera.
Afraid.
He had not noticed fear the first time he looked.
Now it was impossible to miss.
“Who took this?”
“We don’t know.”
“Find out.”
“Dominic—”
“Find out.”
Upstairs, Clara sat beside Gabriel’s bed.
He had not slept.
Neither had she.
He held his stuffed fox against his chest.
Clara did not ask about the SUV.
She knew pressure would close him further.
Instead she opened his astronomy book.
“Did you know some stars we see aren’t there anymore?”
Gabriel looked at her.
“The light keeps traveling even after the star is gone.”
He stared at the page.
“Kind of strange, right?”
His fingers tightened around the fox.
Clara waited.
Then Gabriel reached for the small whiteboard he kept beside his bed.
He wrote one word.
MOM.
Clara’s heart beat faster.
She nodded.
“You’re thinking about her.”
He erased it.
Then wrote:
CAR.
Clara kept her voice calm.
“Her car?”
Gabriel shook his head.
He wrote:
BLACK.
The SUV.
Clara swallowed.
“Did you see a black car when your mom died?”
Gabriel’s breathing became shallow.
She immediately stopped.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
He looked at her.
She put the astronomy book aside.
“You never have to talk before you’re ready.”
His eyes filled with tears.
He erased the board and curled beneath the blanket.
Clara remained beside him until he fell asleep.
Outside the room, Dominic stood motionless.
He had heard enough.
The next morning he summoned Dr. Evelyn Shaw, Gabriel’s trauma specialist.
She listened carefully.
“He may be remembering fragments,” she said.
“Then make him tell us.”
Clara’s head snapped toward Dominic.
“No.”
Dominic glared at her.
Dr. Shaw intervened.
“Clara is right. Forcing recall could deepen the trauma.”
“My son may know who killed his mother.”
“And your son is still your son before he is a witness.”
The words struck Dominic.
He turned toward the window.
Clara looked at him.
For the first time, she saw guilt crack through his anger.
Later that afternoon, Dominic found her in the kitchen.
“You were right.”
Clara almost dropped the knife she was using to slice apples.
“About what?”
“Gabriel.”
She said nothing.
Dominic leaned against the counter.
“I keep thinking that if he knows something, I should have noticed.”
“You were grieving too.”
“I’m his father.”
“That doesn’t make you immune to pain.”
He looked at her.
“You defend me often for someone who argues with me constantly.”
“I’m complicated.”
A faint smile appeared.
It vanished quickly.
“Sofia received threats before she died.”
Clara waited.
“I thought they were because of me.”
“Were they?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she say?”
“That someone was watching the children.”
Clara stopped cutting.
“She told you?”
“Once. I increased security.”
“And?”
“She said I was treating the symptom instead of the disease.”
“That sounds familiar.”
Dominic gave her a look.
She almost smiled.
Then he said, “The morning she died, we argued.”
Clara’s expression softened.
“She wanted to take the twins away for a while.”
“From you?”
“From this life.”
He stared at the floor.
“I told her no.”
The pain in his voice had nothing to do with criminal power or reputation.
It belonged entirely to a husband who had replayed his final argument for two years.
“She left anyway.”
“And then?”
“The crash.”
Clara placed the knife down.
“You think someone caused it.”
“I think I’ve been an idiot for two years.”
“No.”
He looked at her sharply.
“You believed evidence that was designed to look convincing.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But I know guilt makes people accept explanations that punish them.”
He stared at her.
“How?”
“My father’s last voicemail was to me.”
Clara rarely spoke about her parents.
“He asked me to pick him up from work. I was studying for an exam. I told him to take a cab.”
Dominic understood immediately.
“The accident?”
“He was in the cab.”
Silence.
“For years I thought if I had gone…”
“You would have changed everything.”
“Yes.”
“But you couldn’t have known.”
“Neither could you.”
Their eyes met.
For one quiet moment, two people from completely different worlds understood the same grief.
Then the kitchen window shattered.
Clara screamed.
Dominic pulled her to the floor.
Security rushed in.
A small metal object rolled across the tile.
Not a bullet.
A stone.
Wrapped around it was paper.
Dominic tore it open.
Three words.
THE NANNY LEAVES.
Clara stared at the message.
Dominic turned toward her.
“You’re leaving tonight.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“You think whoever did this will stop if I leave?”
“They mentioned you.”
“Exactly.”
“They know who I am.”
“They know you’re close to the children.”
She looked toward the upstairs hallway.
“So I’m not going anywhere.”
Dominic’s voice dropped.
“You don’t understand what you’re involved in.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Then don’t expect me to abandon two children because someone threw a rock.”
“You could die.”
Clara met his eyes.
“So could they.”
Neither spoke.
Upstairs, unseen by either adult, Gabriel stood on the landing.
He had heard everything.
That evening he opened an old wooden box hidden beneath his bed.
Inside was a toy astronaut.
A photograph of his mother.
And a small silver key.
He stared at the key for a long time.
May you like
Then walked toward Clara’s room.
Because for the first time in two years, Gabriel Castellano had decided there was one person he might trust with the thing his mother had told him never to lose.
