Chapter 5 - The Night Lucia Mercer Disappeared
Dante remembered every detail of October eighth.
For fifteen years he had wished he could forget.
Now he needed to remember everything.
The fight with Lucia had begun at dinner.
Dante was twenty-six.
Lucia was twenty-two.
Their father had died fourteen months earlier, leaving behind a financial empire, political relationships, and enough hidden obligations to bury anyone foolish enough to inherit them.
Dante had inherited them.
Sebastian Mercer, their father’s younger brother, had stepped forward as adviser.
Dante had been grateful.
Lucia had not.
“You trust him too much,” she told Dante that night.
They stood in the library after dinner.
Rain battered the windows.
Dante remembered being exhausted.
“I trust him more than I trust most people.”
“That doesn’t mean you should.”
“What happened?”
Lucia paced.
“I found something.”
“What?”
“Accounts.”
“What accounts?”
“Companies Dad owned that don’t exist.”
Dante had barely reacted.
Their father had owned dozens.
“Give them to finance.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“They disappeared.”
That got his attention.
“Who did you give them to?”
“Uncle Sebastian.”
Dante sighed.
“Lucia.”
“See? You’re already defending him.”
“I’m not defending anyone.”
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Act like if something doesn’t fit inside one of your meetings, it isn’t real.”
Dante remembered anger rising.
He had been sleeping four hours a night.
The family organization was splintering.
Everyone expected him to become his father overnight.
And Lucia kept bringing him mysteries.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to listen.”
“I am listening.”
“No. You’re waiting for me to stop talking.”
He looked away.
Lucia’s eyes filled.
“If Mom were alive—”
“Don’t.”
That was where the argument became cruel.
“You don’t get to use her.”
“I’m not using her.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m trying to make you see what this family is.”
“I know what this family is better than you do.”
Lucia stared at him.
“You sound like Dad.”
The sentence hit exactly where she intended.
Dante’s face hardened.
“Get out.”
Lucia immediately regretted it.
He could see that now.
But neither knew how to retreat.
“Dante—”
“Get out.”
She stood there another moment.
Then walked toward the door.
Before leaving, she turned.
“I found proof, Dante.”
He said nothing.
“If something happens to me, don’t believe the first story they give you.”
Those had been her final words in the library.
Forty minutes later, Dante found her again near the front entrance.
Lucia had a bag.
He remembered being surprised.
“Where are you going?”
“Away.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lucia.”
She continued toward the door.
Dante followed.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“So you think I’m imagining this?”
“I think you’re upset.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
She opened the door.
Rain blew inside.
Then she stopped.
For several seconds, Lucia’s shoulders trembled.
When she turned around, she was crying.
Dante’s anger disappeared.
“Lucia.”
She walked back toward him.
“Five minutes.”
Dante froze.
She had not said it in years.
“Please.”
And despite the argument, Dante held his sister.
Five minutes.
Maybe less.
Maybe more.
He remembered her face against his chest.
He remembered wanting to apologize.
He remembered pride stopping him.
When Lucia stepped away, she whispered, “I love you.”
Dante answered, “Come home tomorrow.”
Lucia smiled sadly.
Then left.
At 12:17 a.m., Adrian called.
They had found Lucia’s car in the Hudson.
By dawn, police divers were searching.
By evening, Sebastian was telling Dante the current was too strong.
Three days later, a private investigator found Lucia’s necklace in mud near the river.
Seven days later, Sebastian persuaded Dante to accept what everyone considered obvious.
Lucia was gone.
Dante had spent fifteen years hating himself for letting her walk through that door.
Now he sat in the back of a sedan speeding toward the estate and understood something horrifying.
Lucia had warned him.
If something happens to me, don’t believe the first story they give you.
And Dante had done exactly that.
Across from him sat Rosa.
He had tried to leave her and Ellie at the house.
Rosa refused.
“If Jacob hid something in your mansion, I need to know.”
“Ellie shouldn’t be involved.”
“She’s staying with my neighbor.”
Dante had assigned two guards to the street.
Guards he selected personally.
Not Adrian’s people.
When the sedan reached the Mercer estate, Dante saw security lights around the east wing.
Adrian stood beside the entrance.
He approached immediately.
“What happened?”
Dante stepped out.
“You tell me.”
Adrian frowned.
“Motion sensor triggered. Camera went dark for ninety seconds.”
“Anyone inside?”
“We searched.”
“And?”
“No one.”
Dante studied him.
Fifteen years of friendship made suspicion physically painful.
“Why were you monitoring the music room?”
“All east-wing rooms are alarmed.”
“Since when?”
“Since the break-in last winter.”
Dante remembered.
Reasonable explanation.
Maybe.
Adrian noticed Rosa.
“What is she doing here?”
“My business.”
Rosa said nothing.
Adrian looked between them.
“Something happened?”
Dante walked past him.
“Show me the music room.”
They entered the mansion.
The hallway smelled faintly of rain and floor polish.
Dante remembered Ellie walking through these same halls earlier.
They reached the music room.
The door was open.
Dust covered most of the furniture.
The old grand piano remained beneath a sheet.
Dante stood motionless.
Memory returned.
His mother playing Chopin.
Lucia dancing badly just to make him laugh.
Their father shouting from another room.
Their mother hiding both children beneath the piano.
Lucia’s letter.
Another part is hidden where Mom taught us to play when Dad was angry.
Dante removed the sheet.
Adrian watched.
“What are you looking for?”
Dante turned.
“Why?”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“You brought Rosa here after an alarm in a room no one uses. Obviously something is happening.”
Dante decided to gamble.
“Jacob Voss.”
Nothing obvious changed in Adrian’s expression.
But the pause was too long.
“Rosa’s husband?”
“You knew him.”
Adrian looked at her.
Then Dante.
“Where did you hear that?”
Dante felt betrayal settle deeper.
“You told me you never met him.”
“Dante—”
“Did you know Lucia survived?”
Adrian’s face went white.
Rosa inhaled sharply.
Dante already had his answer.
Adrian looked toward the open doorway.
“Close it.”
“Answer me.”
“Close the door first.”
Dante did.
Adrian lowered his voice.
“Yes.”
One word.
Fifteen years collapsed.
Dante stepped toward him.
“You let me bury an empty coffin.”
“I had reasons.”
“You watched me destroy myself.”
“I was protecting her.”
“From whom?”
Adrian stared at him.
“From Sebastian.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“Because Lucia discovered your father wasn’t the one controlling the hidden accounts.”
“Sebastian was?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew?”
“Not at first.”
“What happened to Lucia?”
Adrian looked toward the piano.
“I don’t know.”
Dante almost laughed.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I knew where she was for six months. Then she disappeared.”
“Why?”
“Because someone found one of our safe locations.”
“Who?”
“I’ve spent fifteen years trying to prove it.”
Dante’s voice dropped.
“You could have told me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you were surrounded.”
“By whom?”
Adrian’s eyes met his.
“Everyone.”
The word hung between them.
Rosa stepped closer to the piano.
“Jacob’s note says something is hidden here.”
Adrian turned sharply.
“What note?”
Dante watched his reaction.
Genuine surprise.
Rosa crouched beside the instrument.
“Where would children hide?”
Dante remembered.
Beneath the keyboard was a decorative panel.
Lucia had once hidden candy there.
He reached under it.
His fingers found tape.
Dante pulled free a small plastic pouch.
Inside was a brass key and a folded piece of paper.
Adrian stared.
Dante unfolded it.
Three words were written in Lucia’s handwriting.
Ask about Evelyn.
Dante’s face changed.
Rosa whispered, “Who’s Evelyn?”
Dante looked at Adrian.
Adrian looked equally disturbed.
“Dante?”
He turned slowly toward them.
“Evelyn Mercer was my mother.”
“And she died twenty-three years ago.”
He looked back at Lucia’s message.
“My mother had nothing to do with the family business.”
Adrian’s expression was grim.
“Maybe that’s what Sebastian wanted everyone to believe.”
From the hallway came footsteps.
Sebastian Mercer’s voice followed.
“Dante?”
Everyone froze.
“Why are you all in here?”
And for the first time in fifteen years, Dante looked at the uncle who raised him...
May you like
and wondered whether he was looking at the man who stole his sister.
---
