Chapter 10 - The Little Girl Who Made Dante Smile
By the third day, Maya had decided the Salvatore house belonged partly to her.
No one had formally given her authority.
She simply assumed it.
Dante discovered this when he entered the breakfast room and found three stuffed animals seated around the long table.
Maya pointed at an empty chair.
“You sit there.”
Dante stopped.
Marco, behind him, immediately became interested in his phone.
Dante looked at Clare.
“Are you encouraging this?”
Clare sipped coffee.
“I was instructed to sit here too.”
Maya placed Bunny beside Leo’s high chair.
“This is a meeting.”
Dante sat.
“What are we discussing?”
“Pancakes.”
“A serious matter.”
“Yes.”
Maya nodded.
Clare smiled.
For twenty minutes, breakfast was normal.
That was becoming dangerous.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Clare knew temporary safety could become addictive when someone had lived too long without it.
At the Salvatore house, doors did not slam because a man was angry.
No one demanded to know why Clare took ten minutes in the shower.
No one checked her messages over her shoulder.
When she said she was tired, Sofia told her to rest.
When Maya spilled orange juice, Dante handed her a napkin.
No yelling.
No accusation.
No lecture about responsibility.
Maya stared at him afterward as if waiting.
Dante noticed.
“Accidents happen.”
Maya looked toward Clare.
Clare’s chest tightened.
“Yes,” she said. “They do.”
Later that morning, Dante received confirmation that the second Alessia photograph was authentic.
Not fully verified.
But likely.
The metadata showed it had been taken at a private rehabilitation clinic near Lake Bracciano five weeks after the explosion.
The clinic had closed four months ago.
Dante left within minutes.
Clare stayed with Maya and Leo.
For the first time, Dante trusted her alone with his son.
He didn’t announce it.
He simply handed Leo over.
“I’ll be back.”
Clare looked down at the baby.
Something about the gesture felt larger than words.
“Be careful.”
Dante met her eyes.
“I will.”
The clinic stood behind rusted gates.
Marco entered first.
Most rooms were empty.
Paperwork had been removed.
Computers were gone.
But in one office they found a locked filing cabinet that had been overlooked.
Inside was a patient intake list.
No Alessia Salvatore.
No obvious alias.
Then Dante saw a date.
Five weeks after the explosion.
Female patient.
Age twenty-nine.
Severe burns and trauma.
Transferred from private facility.
Name: Anna Rossi.
Dante stared.
Alessia had been twenty-nine.
Marco looked over his shoulder.
“You think that’s her?”
“I don’t know.”
A former nurse from the clinic agreed to meet them at a café.
Her name was Giulia.
When Dante showed Alessia’s photograph, she covered her mouth.
“Yes.”
His world stopped.
“You’re sure?”
“I remember her.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Was her name Anna Rossi?”
“That is what the chart said.”
“Who brought her?”
“Two men.”
“Names?”
“I never knew.”
“Was she conscious?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did she know who she was?”
Giulia hesitated.
“At first, no.”
Dante’s heart hammered.
“And later?”
“She began remembering.”
“What?”
“A baby.”
His breath stopped.
“She talked about a baby?”
“Yes.”
Giulia’s eyes softened.
“She kept saying Leo.”
Dante looked away.
Marco lowered his eyes.
“Why didn’t she contact me?” Dante asked.
Giulia looked confused.
“She tried.”
Dante turned back.
“What?”
“She asked for a phone.”
“And?”
“The doctor refused.”
“Why?”
“We were told her husband was dangerous.”
Dante went still.
Giulia continued carefully.
“They said he had caused the explosion.”
The words landed like a blow.
“Who said that?”
“The men who paid for treatment.”
“Hale?”
“I don’t know.”
Dante leaned back.
For six months, his enemies had not simply hidden Alessia.
They had convinced an injured woman that her husband might have tried to kill her.
“Did she believe them?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
Giulia looked at him.
“No.”
Dante swallowed.
“How do you know?”
“Because she escaped.”
Dante stared.
“When?”
“About three months after she arrived.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never saw her again?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
Giulia hesitated.
“A man came looking.”
“Who?”
She described him.
Older.
Silver hair.
Deep scar near his left ear.
Dante knew that scar.
He had seen it as a child.
Matteo Romano.
His supposedly dead uncle.
Dante left the café barely able to breathe.
Back at the house, Clare was on the floor with Maya and Leo.
Maya had built another block tower.
Leo immediately destroyed it.
Both children laughed.
Clare looked up when Dante entered.
Her smile disappeared.
“You found something.”
Dante nodded.
She stood.
“What?”
He couldn’t say it in front of Maya.
Clare understood.
“Sofia?”
Sofia took the children into the garden.
Clare waited.
Dante told her everything.
When he finished, his face looked carved from stone.
“She survived.”
“For at least three months.”
“She remembered Leo.”
“Yes.”
“She tried to leave.”
“Yes.”
“And Matteo found her.”
“Maybe.”
Dante’s hands curled.
Clare stepped closer.
“What are you thinking?”
“That I should have known.”
She shook her head.
“We already did this.”
“He was my uncle.”
“A dead uncle.”
“Apparently not.”
“You were lied to.”
Dante laughed bitterly.
“That family specialty.”
Clare looked at him.
“Then don’t continue it.”
“What?”
“Don’t lie to Leo about who you are.”
Dante’s expression changed.
“He’s six months old.”
“He won’t be forever.”
Clare walked toward the window.
“Maya thinks Richard gets angry because she misbehaves.”
Dante watched her.
“I’m trying to teach her that adults make choices.”
She turned.
“One day Leo will ask what happened to his mother.”
Dante said nothing.
“You get to decide whether you tell him a story that protects your pride or the truth that helps him understand.”
Dante looked toward the garden.
Maya was making Sofia wear a paper crown.
Leo sat in a stroller.
Clare joined his gaze.
“You know what’s strange?”
“What?”
“Maya likes you.”
Dante looked offended.
“Why is that strange?”
Clare smiled.
“You terrify grown men.”
“Maya is immune to common sense.”
“She watches people.”
“So?”
“She knows when someone is pretending.”
Dante looked at her.
“And what does she think I’m pretending?”
“That you don’t have feelings.”
He almost smiled.
Clare caught it.
“There.”
“Do not start.”
“Maya was right.”
“I regret allowing either of you into my house.”
“No, you don’t.”
The sentence came too naturally.
They both went still.
Clare suddenly became aware of how close they were standing.
Dante’s eyes lowered briefly to her mouth.
Then returned to her eyes.
Neither moved.
A dangerous quiet settled.
Clare stepped back first.
“I should check on Maya.”
Dante nodded.
“Yes.”
She turned toward the garden.
Before reaching the door, she stopped.
“Dante?”
“Yes?”
“I hope Alessia got away.”
His expression changed.
“So do I.”
Clare left.
Dante remained by the window.
Outside, Maya placed the paper crown on Leo instead.
The baby grabbed it and immediately tried to eat it.
Clare laughed.
Dante smiled again.
Then his phone rang.
Marco.
Dante answered.
“What?”
Marco’s voice was tense.
“We found the deposit box paperwork Richard mentioned.”
“And?”
“It wasn’t in Ohio.”
Dante frowned.
“Where?”
“New York.”
“When was it accessed last?”
A pause.
“Yesterday.”
Dante’s smile disappeared.
“By who?”
Marco exhaled.
“Clare Jensen.”
Dante stared through the window at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
Clare had been beside him in Italy.
Which meant someone had used her identity again.
May you like
And whoever had accessed that box now possessed the evidence everyone was willing to kill to obtain.
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