Chapter 4 - The Key Rosanna Hid
Rosanna had hidden the key inside a sewing box.
Not a safe.
Not a bank deposit box.
Not behind a painting or beneath a floorboard.
A sewing box.
Emma stared at the faded floral container resting on Rosanna’s lap.
“That has been in your closet the entire time?”
“Almost twenty years.”
Rosanna lifted the lid.
Spools of thread.
Old buttons.
Embroidery needles.
A silver thimble.
Beneath everything was a small velvet pouch.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it.
Inside lay a brass key no longer than Emma’s thumb.
The metal had darkened with age.
Rosanna touched it as if touching the past.
“Vittorio gave this to me three nights before he died.”
Emma sat beside her.
“Why didn’t you tell Alessandro?”
“Because Vittorio made me promise.”
“Even after he died?”
“He told me that if anything happened to him, I should wait.”
“For what?”
Rosanna looked toward the doorway.
“For the day someone came looking for something he had hidden.”
Emma felt goosebumps rise along her arms.
“And Vanessa was looking?”
“Several weeks ago.”
Emma leaned forward.
“What did she ask?”
“Nothing directly.”
Rosanna’s expression became distant.
“She offered to reorganize my husband’s old papers.”
“Did you let her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know why at the time.”
Rosanna looked at the key again.
“But something frightened me.”
A knock sounded.
Emma immediately covered the key with her hand.
Alessandro entered.
He looked exhausted.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The kind of exhaustion that came when several years of memory had to be reevaluated in a single afternoon.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
He glanced at Emma.
“Bellini’s nurse arrives at seven.”
Emma nodded.
Rosanna noticed something in her son’s expression.
“What did Vanessa tell you?”
Alessandro sat opposite her.
“Mother.”
“What?”
“Did Father distrust Daniel Mercer before he died?”
Rosanna’s face changed.
That was answer enough.
Alessandro leaned forward.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“You never told me.”
“You were nineteen.”
“I’m not nineteen anymore.”
“No.”
Rosanna looked down.
“And perhaps I should have told you years ago.”
Emma quietly stood.
“I should leave.”
“No,” both Contis said at once.
Emma stopped.
Alessandro almost smiled.
Rosanna sighed.
“Sit, Emma. Apparently you are part of this now whether you intended to be or not.”
Emma sat.
Rosanna began.
“Your father hired Daniel when Daniel was very young. Brilliant with numbers. Ambitious. Charming.”
“Did he steal from us?”
“I don’t know.”
“But Father suspected him?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“About six months before the accident.”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened.
“Why was he still working with the family afterward?”
“Because your father died before he completed the investigation.”
“And you kept him?”
“I had no evidence.”
“You had suspicion.”
“And I had a nineteen-year-old son inheriting responsibilities he was not ready to carry.”
Alessandro leaned back.
The truth hurt because it was true.
After Vittorio’s death, Alessandro had been reckless.
Angry.
Obsessed with proving himself.
Daniel had been one of the adults who appeared stable.
Patient.
Reliable.
He had guided Alessandro through financial meetings Alessandro barely understood.
Had advised him during the restructuring of several family companies.
Had attended Rosanna’s birthday dinners.
Alessandro felt sick.
“What did Father find?”
Rosanna opened the sewing box.
She removed the key.
Alessandro stared.
“What is that?”
“The reason I never completely trusted Daniel.”
She handed it to him.
“Your father gave me this.”
Alessandro turned the key between his fingers.
“What does it open?”
“I remembered today.”
“Where?”
Rosanna pointed toward the floor.
“Not here.”
Emma looked confused.
Rosanna continued.
“The old carriage house.”
Alessandro frowned.
The carriage house sat near the northern boundary of the estate.
It had not housed horses in decades. Vittorio converted part of it into a private office before Alessandro was born.
After his death, Rosanna ordered it closed.
“Father’s office?”
“The cabinet behind the bookcase.”
Alessandro stood immediately.
“I’ll get Marco.”
Rosanna grabbed his hand.
“Be careful.”
“Mother, we’re on our own property.”
“So was your father.”
That stopped him.
Emma looked at Alessandro.
“I’ll go.”
He glanced at her.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve done enough today.”
“So have you.”
“That’s different.”
“Because you own the house?”
“Because someone may be looking for the same thing.”
Emma crossed her arms.
“All the more reason not to go alone.”
Rosanna smiled faintly.
“I like her.”
Alessandro sighed.
“I noticed.”
Twenty minutes later, Marco joined Alessandro and Emma outside the carriage house.
The evening sun had begun sinking behind the trees.
The building looked abandoned.
Ivy crawled along the stone walls.
Dust coated the windows.
Marco unlocked the main door.
“Security feed?”
“Working,” Marco said. “No recorded entry in three months.”
“Recorded?”
Marco understood.
“Meaning someone could have entered without using the monitored door.”
They went inside.
The air smelled like old wood and paper.
Emma coughed.
Alessandro switched on the lights.
Rows of covered furniture appeared.
At the rear of the building, double doors led into Vittorio’s former office.
Alessandro stopped before opening them.
He had not entered the room since his father’s funeral.
Memory came suddenly.
Vittorio behind the desk.
Sleeves rolled up.
Cigar smoke curling toward the ceiling.
Alessandro at seventeen, pretending not to care what his father thought.
“You don’t have to become me,” Vittorio had once said.
Alessandro had laughed.
“I’m nothing like you.”
Vittorio had smiled sadly.
“One day you’ll understand that’s exactly what I hope.”
Alessandro opened the door.
The office remained almost untouched.
Desk.
Books.
Leather chair.
A framed photograph of Rosanna at thirty.
Emma saw Alessandro notice it.
He looked away quickly.
“Bookcase,” he said.
They moved toward the wall.
Rosanna had been specific.
Third shelf.
Left side.
A carved wooden panel.
Alessandro found it.
Behind the panel was a keyhole.
He inserted the brass key.
It turned.
A narrow section of the bookcase released.
Behind it was a steel cabinet.
Marco checked the edges.
“No alarm.”
Alessandro opened it.
Empty.
All three stared.
“No,” Alessandro whispered.
Emma stepped closer.
Dust lined the shelves.
Except in one rectangle near the center.
Something had been sitting there recently.
Marco touched the dust.
“This was removed.”
“When?”
“Hard to know.”
Alessandro stared at the empty space.
They were too late.
Then Emma noticed something beneath the cabinet.
“Wait.”
She crouched.
A corner of paper protruded from beneath the baseboard.
She pulled it free.
It was a photograph.
Old.
Faded.
Four people stood outside the carriage house.
Vittorio.
A younger Rosanna.
Daniel Mercer.
And another man Emma didn’t recognize.
Alessandro did.
His eyes narrowed.
“Who is he?” Emma asked.
“Samuel DeMarco.”
Emma looked at him.
“Vanessa’s father?”
“Yes.”
The photograph was dated twenty-one years earlier.
Two years before Vittorio died.
Emma turned it over.
There was handwriting on the back.
Vittorio’s.
Alessandro read aloud.
Daniel and Samuel know. If anything happens, follow the Halcyon accounts.
Marco stared.
“Halcyon?”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
Emma looked toward the empty cabinet.
“Whatever was stored here, somebody took it.”
A floorboard creaked behind them.
Marco turned instantly.
“Who’s there?”
No response.
He moved toward the hallway.
Then stopped.
The rear window stood open.
It had been closed when they entered.
Marco rushed outside.
Alessandro followed.
Emma remained in the office.
That was when she noticed the desk drawer.
Slightly open.
Inside was a modern black envelope.
Not old.
Not dusty.
Someone had placed it there recently.
Emma picked it up.
Her name was written on the front.
EMMA FOSTER
Her blood turned cold.
“Alessandro?”
He returned.
“What?”
She held up the envelope.
“I think this is for me.”
He took it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Typed.
You should have stayed a maid.
Below the sentence was a photograph.
Emma leaving her mother’s apartment three days earlier.
Another photograph showed her younger brother walking toward campus.
Emma went pale.
Alessandro’s expression became lethal.
“They followed my family.”
Marco returned through the door.
“No one outside.”
Alessandro handed him the photographs.
“Get security to Emma’s mother and brother.”
Emma shook her head.
“No, I’m leaving.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“What?”
“If I caused this—”
“You didn’t.”
“They’re watching my family because I got involved.”
“They’re watching your family because they’re afraid of what you saw.”
Emma stared at him.
“I won’t put them at risk.”
“You’re not going anywhere alone.”
“I can’t stay here.”
Alessandro came closer.
“Emma.”
She looked up.
For the first time, his voice softened.
“You protected my mother when every instinct should have told you to walk away.”
He glanced at the photograph of her brother.
“Let me protect yours.”
Emma swallowed.
Behind them, Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face changed.
“What happened?” Alessandro asked.
Marco lowered the phone.
“Vanessa is gone.”
Alessandro stared.
“What do you mean gone?”
“The guard outside her room found the balcony door open.”
“That balcony is two floors up.”
“There’s construction scaffolding along the west wall.”
Alessandro closed his eyes.
Someone had planned the escape.
Marco continued.
“And there’s something else.”
“What?”
“The camera system covering the west grounds was disabled for exactly eleven minutes.”
Emma looked toward the threatening photographs.
“Daniel?”
“Maybe.”
Alessandro stared at the old picture of Daniel Mercer standing beside Vanessa’s father.
“No.”
He finally understood the scale of it.
“This started before Vanessa.”
And somewhere outside the estate, Vanessa was now carrying the only answers they had.
May you like
Unless whoever helped her escape intended to make sure she never gave them.
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