Chapter 3: The Voice Beneath the House
I had heard Isabelle's voice in my dreams so many times that I had stopped telling anyone about them.
Sometimes she called from the other side of a locked door. Sometimes she stood across a crowded room, wearing the blue dress she had worn on our anniversary, while I struggled to reach her.
Every time, I woke before I could touch her.
But this voice was not a dream.
It came from the basement stairs.
"Dominic," the woman called again.
"Please. There's no time.""
I pointed my pistol toward the doorway.
"Who are you?""
A shadow appeared on the wall.
Then a woman stepped into the red emergency light.
She was in her early fifties, with brown hair streaked with silver and a scar running from her left temple to the edge of her cheek. Her coat was torn at the shoulder. Blood darkened the sleeve.
But it was her eyes that stopped me.
Isabelle had the same eyes.
The same gray-green color. The same slight downward tilt at the corners. The same expression she wore whenever she was about to tell me something I wouldn't like.
My gun lowered an inch.
"That's impossible.""
The woman stopped several feet away.
"My name is Elena Voss.""
"How do you know my wife?""
She looked past me toward the kitchen.
Three little girls stood behind Grace, watching her with expressions of terror and recognition.
Elena's face crumpled.
"Because Isabelle was my sister.""
I couldn't speak.
Isabelle had told me she was an only child. Her parents had died when she was young, and she had no close relatives. I'd attended her father's funeral and helped settle her mother's estate.
I'd seen the family records.
"You're lying," I said.
Elena shook her head.
"Your wife lied to you about many things, Dominic. Not because she didn't love you. Because she was trying to keep you alive.""
I stepped toward her.
"Where has she been?""
Elena flinched at the question.
"Dead.""
The word struck with the force of a physical blow.
"Then whose voice did I just hear?""
"Mine. Isabelle and I were twins.""
The resemblance suddenly made sense.
I remembered Isabelle joking that she had once had a twin sister, but that the sister had died as an infant. I'd assumed it was an odd childhood story, one of the many details about her past she rarely discussed.
Now I wondered how many lies I'd accepted because I had been too busy building my empire to ask difficult questions.
"Why did she tell me she was an only child?""
"Because our father worked for a man who collected secrets. When he died, Isabelle discovered that his death wasn't an accident."" Elena glanced toward the ceiling.
"She spent years trying to uncover what happened. Then she met you.""
"What's that supposed to mean?""
"She believed you could protect her.""
I felt anger rise through the confusion.
"I loved my wife. I would have protected her from anything.""
Elena's expression softened.
"She knew that. But she also knew you would destroy anyone you believed had threatened her. She was afraid that if you learned the truth too soon, you would start a war before you understood who you were fighting.""
Behind me, Grace stood.
"Elena, we don't have time for this.""
Elena nodded.
"No. We don't.""
She reached into her coat and pulled out a small black drive.
"Isabelle left this for Dominic. She told me to give it to him only if the girls began speaking again.""
I looked at my daughters.
"Why would their voices have anything to do with this?""
Grace answered before Elena could.
"Because they witnessed something that day.""
I turned toward her.
"They were five, four, and three. The police interviewed them. Therapists questioned them. They never said anything.""
"They didn't tell the police," Grace said.
"They told me.""
My stomach tightened.
"When?""
"Eleven months ago, on my third week here. Nora woke from a nightmare and called me Mommy. I told her I wasn't her mother, and she started crying. Olivia came into the room and told me that Mommy had warned them about a man who wore a silver ring.""
I looked at Elena.
She was staring at the floor.
"Who wears a silver ring?""
Elena didn't answer.
I already knew.
Vincent had worn one for as long as I had known him. A heavy silver band engraved with a hawk, a family heirloom he claimed had belonged to his grandfather.
I'd seen it on his hand at Isabelle's funeral.
I'd seen it on his hand when he stood beside me outside the courtroom as Marcus Bell received his sentence.
I'd even shaken that hand afterward.
"Why didn't you tell me?"" I asked Grace.
"Because Vincent threatened to have me arrested for stealing medication from the house. He showed me forged photographs of me entering your bedroom. He said that if I ever told you anything, he'd make sure I spent the rest of my life in prison.""
"Why didn't you leave?""
Grace looked at Nora.
"Because your daughters were afraid to be alone with him.""
The words landed heavily.
For eleven months, I'd believed Grace was a quiet, dependable employee who had helped care for my children. I'd never questioned why she stayed late or why she sometimes slept in the staff quarters rather than returning to her apartment.
I'd thought she was simply dedicated.
I had not realized she was standing between my daughters and a man they believed had killed their mother.
Elena extended the black drive.
"Isabelle recorded everything. She found out Vincent had been selling information about your business, your movements, and your family. She was going to give the evidence to federal investigators.""
I took the drive.
"Why didn't she tell me?""
"She tried.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
"Four days before she died, she sent you a message. Vincent intercepted it.""
I pulled out my phone and searched my old messages. There were thousands of them, most related to business. I found the date Elena mentioned and scrolled through the conversation.
At 8:43 p.m., Isabelle had sent me a message.
We need to talk tonight. It's about Vincent. Please come home alone.
My reply had arrived seven minutes later.
Can't. Important meeting. Tomorrow, I promise.
There was no message from her the next day.
I remembered that evening. I'd been negotiating a merger that would have made me hundreds of millions of dollars. I had stayed at the office until midnight.
The next morning, Isabelle had kissed my cheek and told me she loved me.
Two days later, she was dead.
I gripped the phone until my hand hurt.
"What did she find?""
Elena looked toward the basement.
"She found proof that Vincent wasn't working alone.""
A metallic crash sounded below us.
Everyone turned.
Then a voice came through the basement intercom.
Vincent.
"Dominic, I know you're listening.""
His voice was calm again, almost affectionate.
"There's something Elena forgot to tell you.""
Elena's face went white.
Vincent continued.
"Isabelle didn't die because she discovered my secrets. She died because she discovered yours.""
I felt the room tilt.
"What is he talking about?""
Elena reached for my arm.
"Don't listen to him.""
But Vincent was already speaking again.
"Ask your wife's sister what happened twenty-nine years ago. Ask her why Isabelle was so desperate to keep you away from the truth.""
I turned toward Elena.
She was crying now.
"Dominic, I can explain.""
"Then explain.""
She opened her mouth.
No words came out.
From the kitchen, Olivia began to sing the lullaby again, her voice shaking with fear.
Sophie joined her.
Then Nora whispered a sentence that made Elena collapse into a chair.
"Mommy said Uncle Dominic was the only person who didn't know.""
I stared at the three girls.
"Know what?""
Olivia stopped singing.
She looked directly at me.
"That the man who killed Mommy was supposed to kill you first.""
Before I could ask another question, the basement door slammed shut.
The intercom crackled.
Vincent laughed softly.
"Now you're finally asking the right questions, boss.""
A new message appeared on my phone.
It contained a photograph of a document with my signature at the bottom.
Above it was a date.
Fourteen months before Isabelle's murder.
May you like
And a single sentence:
You ordered the operation yourself.
