Chapter 3: The Secret in Isabella's Handwriting
Dante moved before I could scream.
He pushed Sophia behind him, signaled Marco toward the hallway, and positioned himself between us and the bedroom door.
The knocking stopped.
For several seconds, all I could hear was rain against the windows and Sophia's frightened breathing.
Then the voice came again.
“Grace, open the door. We only want what's ours.””
Dante glanced at me.
“Do you recognize him?””
I shook my head.
The voice sounded ordinary. Almost polite.
That made it worse.
“What's your name?”” Dante called.
A brief pause followed.
“Someone your wife trusted.””
Dante's expression changed.
“That's interesting,” he replied.
“My wife hasn't trusted anyone in three days.””
There was a muffled laugh from the hallway.
“Maybe she should have.””
Marco moved silently toward the entrance. Dante held Sophia against his chest, one hand covering the back of her head.
I stood frozen beside the bed.
The envelope was gone.
Someone had entered my apartment without opening the front door, taken the only thing Isabella had left me, and somehow learned that I had been holding Sophia at Bellanote.
How could anyone know so much about us?
Then I remembered the photograph on my phone.
Someone had been watching the restaurant.
Someone had known exactly when Isabella disappeared.
And someone had known where I lived.
“Dante,” I whispered, “we need to leave.””
He looked at me.
“Why?””
“Because this apartment isn't safe.””
“I'm aware.””
“No, you don't understand. Isabella didn't just ask me to hide something. She told me that if anyone came looking for it, I shouldn't trust—”
The doorknob turned.
Marco reached the entrance.
“Don't move!”” he shouted.
A sharp metallic click sounded from the other side.
Dante shoved Sophia into my arms.
“Bedroom. Now.””
I didn't argue.
I carried her into the small bathroom and locked the door behind us. She was trembling so badly that I could feel every movement through her cardigan.
“Grace?”” she whispered.
“I'm here.””
“Is Daddy going to die?””
My throat tightened.
“No, sweetheart.””
“Mommy said bad people lie.””
I knelt in front of her.
“Your mommy was trying to protect you.””
Sophia's eyes filled with tears.
“Then why did she leave me?””
I had no answer.
I wanted to tell her that her mother hadn't chosen to leave, that somewhere out there Isabella was waiting for a chance to come home.
But I couldn't promise a child something I didn't know was true.
So I pulled her into my arms.
“Sometimes grown-ups have to go somewhere dangerous to keep the people they love safe,” I whispered.
“That doesn't mean they stop loving them.””
Sophia pressed her face against my shoulder.
“That's what Mommy said.””
My heart stopped.
“What exactly did she say?””
Sophia lifted her head.
“Before she went away, she told me to remember the lady with the yellow door.””
I stared at her.
“The yellow door?””
She nodded.
“Mommy said the lady would help me if Daddy couldn't.””
A crash sounded from the other room.
Sophia flinched.
I held her tighter.
“Did your mommy tell you where this lady lives?””
Sophia shook her head.
“She showed me a picture.””
“Do you remember what the lady looked like?””
“Old. White hair. Big glasses.””
Something flickered in my memory.
A woman like that lived on the ground floor of my building. Mrs. Eleanor Price, a retired nurse who kept a yellow-painted door decorated with little ceramic birds.
I'd seen Isabella speaking to her once in the lobby.
I had assumed they were strangers asking for directions.
“Sweetheart,” I whispered, “do you mean Mrs. Price downstairs?””
Sophia's eyes widened.
“You know her?””
“I think so.””
Before she could answer, the bathroom door rattled.
“Grace!”” Dante shouted.
“Open the door!””
I unlocked it.
Dante stood in the hallway, his suit jacket torn at the shoulder and a thin cut running along his cheek. Marco was behind him, breathing hard.
“Are you hurt?”” I asked.
“No.””
“What happened?””
“The man escaped.””
“Did you see him?””
Dante's gaze sharpened.
“Why?””
“Because Sophia remembers someone who might know where Isabella is.””
I told him about the yellow door.
For the first time since I'd met him, Dante looked genuinely uncertain.
“Eleanor Price?””
“You know her?””
He stared at me.
“My mother hired her as a nurse when I was a child.””
The words hung between us.
“Then Isabella knew her too,” I said.
Dante looked down at Sophia.
“Did Mommy tell you to find Mrs. Price?””
Sophia nodded.
“She said the lady would know what happened to Uncle Michael.””
Dante went completely still.
Marco's face changed.
I looked from one man to the other.
“Who is Michael?””
Neither answered.
Then Dante carefully set Sophia on the bed and turned toward me.
“My younger brother died twelve years ago.””
“How?””
“An accident.””
The word came too quickly.
I remembered the folded paper Isabella had slipped into my hand.
If Dante finds you, ask him what happened to his brother.
“You're lying,” I whispered.
Marco stepped forward.
“Watch your mouth.””
Dante raised one hand, stopping him.
“Why do you think that?””
“Because Isabella told me to ask about your brother.””
His face drained of color.
“What else did she say?””
“Nothing. I didn't understand what she meant.””
“Did she leave you a note?””
I hesitated.
Dante saw the answer before I spoke.
“Grace.””
I reached into my pocket and unfolded the small piece of paper I had carried for three days.
He took it.
His eyes moved across the sentence.
Then he read it again.
For several seconds, the man who ruled Manhattan's underworld looked like someone standing at the edge of a grave he had spent twelve years trying not to see.
“Michael didn't die in an accident,” he said.
Marco stared at him.
“Boss?””
Dante folded the note.
“Get everyone we trust to the building. Nobody enters or leaves without being checked.””
“Understood.””
“And find Eleanor Price.””
Marco nodded and left.
I waited until the front door closed.
“Dante, what happened to your brother?””
He looked at Sophia, who was watching us with frightened, exhausted eyes.
Then he crouched in front of her.
“Sweetheart, I need you to stay with Grace for a little while.””
“Are you going to find Mommy?””
“Yes.””
“Promise?””
He kissed her forehead.
“I promise I'll do everything I can.””
Sophia grabbed his hand.
“Don't let the bad man take Grace too.””
Dante looked at me over her head.
“He won't.””
Something about the way he said it made me believe him.
And that frightened me almost as much as the threats.
Because I was beginning to understand that Dante Russo wasn't simply dangerous.
He was desperate.
And desperate men could be more unpredictable than cruel ones.
Twenty minutes later, we stood outside Mrs. Price's apartment.
The yellow door was decorated with ceramic birds and a small brass knocker shaped like a sunflower.
Dante knocked three times.
No answer.
He knocked again.
“Eleanor,” he called.
“It's Dante.””
Silence.
Then the door opened a few inches.
An elderly woman peered through the gap. Her white hair was pinned behind her head, and enormous glasses rested on her nose.
She looked at Dante.
Then she looked at Sophia.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh, my God.””
Sophia ran toward her.
“Mrs. Price!””
The woman dropped to her knees and caught the child in her arms.
“My darling girl,” she whispered.
“I thought I'd never see you again.””
Dante watched them, his expression hardening.
“You know where Isabella is.””
Mrs. Price lifted her eyes.
“I know where she was supposed to go.””
“Where?””
She glanced nervously toward the stairwell.
Then she looked directly at me.
“Did you bring the envelope?””
My stomach dropped.
“Someone stole it from my apartment.””
Mrs. Price closed her eyes.
“Then we're already too late.””
Dante stepped closer.
“Too late for what?””
She looked at Sophia, then at the man who had spent twelve years believing his brother was dead.
“Isabella discovered that Michael Russo never died,” she whispered.
Dante's face became terrifyingly still.
Mrs. Price tightened her arms around Sophia.
“And three nights ago, she found out that your brother is the one who took her.””
A floorboard creaked behind us.
Dante turned.
At the far end of the hallway stood a man in a dark coat, his face hidden beneath the shadow of a hood.
He slowly raised his head.
May you like
And Dante Russo whispered a name I had never expected to hear.
“Michael?””
