Chapter 2 - Behind the Study Door
The next morning, I nearly left Lily with a neighbor.
Three times I packed her little backpack.
Three times I unpacked it.
Dominic had specifically told me to bring her.
That should have made the decision simple.
It didn't.
Men like Dominic Moretti did not change their minds casually.
They did not explain themselves.
And they certainly didn't spend nights reconsidering whether a three-year-old should be allowed to blow bubbles with their son.
Yet when our rideshare stopped outside the iron gates at eight fifteen, Lily pressed her nose against the window.
"Leo lives in a castle."
"It's a house."
"It's too big."
On that point, I agreed.
The security guard opened the gate.
Lily waved.
The guard stared at her for a second, then slowly waved back.
She had that effect on people.
Inside, the mansion felt strangely different.
Nothing had physically changed.
The floors still shone.
The staircase still curved dramatically beneath an antique chandelier.
The same dark paintings watched from the walls.
But there was an expectation in the air.
As though the house itself remembered yesterday.
Leo was waiting at the top of the staircase.
That alone surprised me.
Normally at eight thirty, he would be in the breakfast room with his tutor reviewing spelling words.
Instead, he stood gripping the railing.
The second he saw Lily, his face brightened.
"You came."
"I told you."
She ran toward him.
"Walking," I called.
She slowed for approximately three steps.
Leo came downstairs.
He looked past me toward the hallway.
"Father said I can have one hour."
"One hour for what?" Lily asked.
"Playing."
The word sounded foreign in his mouth.
I looked toward Dominic's study.
The door was open.
He stood inside speaking to one of his men.
Tall.
Dark suit.
Completely controlled again.
But when he glanced toward the foyer, his eyes rested on Leo.
Then Lily.
He gave the smallest nod.
Leo immediately took Lily toward the family room.
No running.
No shouting.
I wondered whether Dominic had given him rules for how to play.
The thought made me sad.
I started toward the kitchen.
"Isabella."
I stopped.
Dominic's voice carried from the study.
I turned.
His employee walked past me.
"Mr. Moretti?"
"Come in."
That was not an invitation I wanted.
I stepped into the study.
Dark shelves covered three walls.
A heavy desk faced tall windows overlooking the gardens.
Everything smelled faintly of cedar and coffee.
Dominic stood with his back to me.
"Close the door."
My heart jumped.
I closed it.
He turned.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
"I'm sorry about yesterday," I said.
"I wasn't asking for an apology."
"Oh."
He studied me.
"You heard me."
It wasn't a question.
Every muscle in my back tightened.
"Heard you?"
His expression remained flat.
"Outside this room."
I should have lied.
Something told me he would know.
"I heard something."
"What?"
I looked at the floor.
"Mr. Moretti—"
"What did you hear?"
I forced myself to look at him.
"You were upset."
A humorless smile touched his mouth.
"That's a polite description."
"I didn't mean to listen."
"But you did."
"I was cleaning."
He walked toward the windows.
I waited for anger.
It never came.
Instead, he said, "Leo is afraid of me."
I didn't answer.
Dominic looked over his shoulder.
"That's not a difficult question."
"No."
"Then answer."
I swallowed.
"Yes."
His jaw tightened.
"How long have you known?"
"I didn't know."
"Yesterday?"
"Yesterday made it obvious."
He looked away.
I had never imagined having this conversation with him.
Dominic Moretti asking his housekeeper whether his son feared him.
The entire thing felt unreal.
Finally, he spoke.
"His mother used to say children tell the truth before they learn adults don't want to hear it."
I glanced toward a small framed photograph on the shelf.
A woman with dark hair stood beside Dominic.
She was smiling.
Not posing.
Actually smiling.
Dominic was smiling too.
I had never noticed the picture before.
Perhaps because it was turned slightly away from the room.
"Leo's mother?" I asked carefully.
Dominic looked at the photograph.
"Elena."
There was something in the way he said her name.
A wound disguised as a word.
"She died?"
"Four years ago."
"I'm sorry."
His eyes remained on the photograph.
"So am I."
Before I could understand what that meant, laughter sounded faintly from upstairs.
Lily.
Then Leo.
Dominic closed his eyes.
Just for a moment.
"Yesterday was the first time I'd heard him laugh like that since she died."
My chest tightened.
"Mr. Moretti—"
"Dominic."
I blinked.
He looked irritated with himself.
"Inside this room. Dominic."
"Okay."
He stepped toward his desk.
"His mother could make him laugh."
"Leo remembers her?"
"Pieces."
Dominic picked up a paperweight.
Set it down.
"He was two."
"That's very young."
"Too young."
Silence filled the room.
Then he said, "After Elena died, I thought keeping him safe was enough."
Safe.
The word seemed important.
"Was someone trying to hurt him?"
Dominic's expression changed.
The wall came back.
"That's not something you need to know."
I nodded immediately.
"Of course."
He walked toward the door, signaling the conversation was over.
Then paused.
"Yesterday, when Leo moved in front of Lily..."
His voice lowered.
"He thought I might hurt her."
"I don't think he believed you'd actually—"
"Don't."
I stopped.
"Don't protect me from something because you're afraid of insulting me."
I met his eyes.
He looked tired.
Not physically.
Somewhere deeper.
"Then yes," I said. "I think he was scared."
Dominic nodded once.
"Good."
"Good?"
"Truth is useful."
He opened the door.
I stepped into the hallway.
Then he added, "Let them play."
I looked back.
"More than an hour?"
"Until his tutor arrives."
"That's forty minutes."
Dominic stared at me.
I almost smiled.
"I'll tell them."
I found Leo and Lily in the sunroom.
They had constructed what appeared to be an entire city from couch cushions.
Leo was explaining that one cushion was a hospital.
Lily had declared another one a bakery.
"What happened to the castle?" I asked.
"It burned down," Lily said.
Leo gasped.
"No, it didn't."
"The dragon did it."
"There are no dragons."
"There are now."
Leo considered this.
Then smiled.
I stood in the doorway watching them.
Behind me, footsteps approached.
Dominic.
He didn't enter.
He simply watched.
Leo didn't notice him at first.
That was probably why he kept smiling.
When he finally looked toward the doorway, his body stiffened automatically.
Dominic saw it.
"Continue," he said.
Leo blinked.
"The castle?"
Dominic looked at the cushions.
"If that's what it is."
Lily shook her head.
"It's a bakery now."
I nearly stopped breathing.
Dominic looked at her.
"A bakery."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Dragon."
Leo covered his mouth.
A small sound escaped.
Not quite laughter.
Dominic's eyebrow lifted.
Then the impossible happened.
He almost smiled.
Barely.
A movement at the corner of his mouth.
But Leo saw it.
And because Leo saw it, I saw something else.
The boy relaxed.
Only slightly.
But he did.
That afternoon, while Lily napped in the downstairs sitting room, I went to put away clean linens.
The west hallway was quiet.
As I passed the shelves near Dominic's bedroom, something caught my eye.
The photograph.
The one from his study.
Except this was different.
Elena was holding baby Leo.
Behind the photograph was another frame turned completely toward the wall.
I knew I should leave it alone.
Every instinct told me to keep walking.
Then a draft from an open window shifted the curtain.
The hidden frame tipped forward.
I caught it before it fell.
And saw the picture.
Dominic.
Elena.
A second man.
All three smiling beside a boat.
On the bottom corner someone had written three words in faded ink.
Forever, no matter what.
But someone had violently scratched through the second man's face.
I heard footsteps.
I spun around.
Dominic stood at the end of the hall.
His expression changed the instant he saw the photograph in my hand.
"Put that down."
I did.
Immediately.
"I'm sorry. It almost fell."
He walked toward me.
I had never seen his face look quite like that.
Not angry.
Alarmed.
"Who is he?" I asked before common sense could stop me.
Dominic picked up the photograph.
For several seconds, he stared at the scratched-out face.
Then he turned the frame toward the wall again.
"No one."
But that night, after I put Lily to bed in our small apartment, my phone rang.
The number was blocked.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
A man's voice said my name.
"Isabella."
"Who is this?"
"You work for Dominic Moretti."
My blood ran cold.
"Who is this?"
The man laughed quietly.
Then he said something that made me sit down.
"Ask Dominic what really happened to Elena."
The call ended.
And for the first time, I wondered if the secret inside Dominic Moretti's house wasn't only about grief.
Maybe it was about why Leo's mother had never come home.
May you like
And the stranger on the telephone already knew I had started asking questions.
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