Chapter 3 - The North Wing
Dante ordered the north-wing door opened the next morning.
He did not tell the household staff why. He told Rocco to bring two guards, a locksmith, and the estate manager. He also instructed them not to touch anything until the rooms had been photographed.
Lívia was not supposed to be there.
She had been assigned to the breakfast room, and Mrs. Bell had warned her twice to keep away from the upper corridor. But Theo had refused breakfast unless Lívia sat beside him. When Dante came downstairs, he found the boy holding the maid's hand and staring at the staircase.
“Bring her,” Dante said.
Mrs. Bell looked alarmed. “Sir, the north wing is not suitable for the child.”
“Then we will make it suitable.”
The corridor smelled of dust and old wood. The carpet had been covered with protective cloth, and the paintings had been removed from the walls. At the end stood a double door with a brass lock. A narrow strip of blue fabric was caught beneath the threshold.
Theo saw it and began to tremble.
Lívia crouched beside him. “You don't have to go inside.”
He shook his head.
“Do you want your father to open it?”
Theo nodded once.
Dante gave the locksmith a signal.
The lock clicked. The door swung inward.
Inside, the air was cold and stale. White sheets covered the furniture. A chandelier hung above a long hallway, its crystals gray with dust. The first room had once been a sitting room. The second was Isabella's bedroom.
Theo made a small sound.
Lívia held his hand. “We can stop.”
But the boy took one step forward.
Then another.
At the end of the corridor was a narrow door painted the same color as the wall. It was half-hidden behind a tall wardrobe.
Theo pointed.
“Flor.”
Dante moved toward it. “That was a storage room.”
Theo shook his head so violently that his curls bounced.
“Flor. There.”
The door was locked from the outside.
Dante turned to Rocco. “Open it.”
The guard glanced at the estate manager. “This door was sealed after the accident.”
“Open it.”
Inside was a small room with a low bed, a wardrobe, a rocking chair, and a shelf of children's books. It looked less like storage than a nursery. Dust covered the floor, but a small blanket lay folded at the foot of the bed.
Blue.
Lívia felt Theo's hand tighten.
He walked toward the blanket and touched its edge. The fabric was embroidered with tiny white stars. Several stitches had come loose near one corner. The thread was the same bright blue as the strand caught in his pajamas.
“Was this Flor's room?” Lívia asked.
Dante stared at it. “I was told it was cleared.”
“By whom?”
“The estate manager at the time.”
The manager, a gray-haired man named Mr. Voss, looked uncomfortable. “I was instructed to seal the wing. I didn't inspect every room.”
Dante turned toward him. “Who instructed you?”
“Your uncle, sir.”
The name fell heavily into the room.
“Uncle Stefano?” Dante asked.
Mr. Voss nodded.
Stefano Montenegro was Dante's father's younger brother. He had helped run the family's business after Dante's father died and had served as an adviser during Dante's early years as head of the organization. He wore a heavy black signet ring on his right hand.
Theo's words returned to Lívia.
Black ring.
Dante's face darkened.
“Why did Stefano order this room sealed?”
Mr. Voss swallowed. “He said the child should not be reminded of the accident.”
“Did he say anything about Flor?”
“He said she had betrayed the family.”
Dante stared at the manager.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I believed the police had investigated, sir. I was told the matter was closed.”
Dante turned away. For a moment, his expression looked less like anger than disbelief.
Lívia lifted the blue blanket carefully. Beneath it was a small wooden music box. It had a painted white bird on its lid. Theo reached for it, but when Lívia opened the lid, the melody began to play.
The boy screamed.
He dropped to the floor and covered his ears.
Lívia shut the box immediately. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”
Theo crawled behind the bed.
Dante knelt, but the boy pressed himself into the corner.
“Turn it off,” he whispered.
“It is off,” Lívia said.
“Bad song.”
She looked at the music box. The melody was slow and delicate, a lullaby. It seemed harmless.
“Did someone play this when you were scared?” she asked.
Theo nodded.
“Who?”
He pointed toward the hallway.
“Man.”
Dante looked at the box. “Stefano gave it to Isabella.”
“Why?”
“He said it had belonged to our mother.”
Lívia turned the box over. The underside had a small brass plate, but the screws were newer than the rest of the mechanism. Someone had opened it and put it back together.
“Sir,” she said, “may I ask the locksmith to examine this?”
Dante nodded.
The locksmith removed the plate and found a tiny compartment behind the winding mechanism. Inside was a folded piece of paper, yellowed at the edges.
Dante unfolded it.
The handwriting was Isabella's.
If anything happens to me, ask Flor what she saw. Do not trust Stefano.
Dante read the sentence twice.
His fingers tightened around the paper.
Theo crawled out from behind the bed and reached for Lívia's sleeve. He pointed to the wardrobe.
“More.”
They opened it. Most of the shelves were empty, but behind a loose panel was a small cloth pouch. Inside lay a child's drawing, a photograph, and a brass key.
The drawing showed a woman holding a little boy. A tall man stood behind them. The man's hand was colored black, and on one finger was a dark circle.
At the bottom, in a child's uneven handwriting, was one word.
FLOR.
Dante looked at the drawing for a long time.
“Who made this?” Lívia asked.
Theo touched the paper.
“Me.”
“You drew it?”
He nodded.
“When?”
Theo's eyes moved to the locked corridor.
“Night.”
Dante knelt beside him. “The night your mother died?”
Theo began to cry.
Lívia held him gently while Dante stared at the drawing.
The boy had not forgotten the north wing.
He had been trying to tell them what happened there.
And the man with the black ring might have been standing closer than anyone imagined.
After the discovery in the nursery, Dante asked the estate manager to explain the history of the north wing. Mr. Voss brought out an old floor plan and spread it across the library table.
“The wing was renovated when your father was alive,” he explained. “The passage behind the nursery was originally used by the household staff. It was closed when the security system was installed.”
“Why was it not on the current plans?” Dante asked.
“Your uncle asked that it be removed from the renovation drawings. He said it was an unnecessary security risk.”
Dante looked at the narrow line that connected the nursery to the maintenance room. “A passage no one knows about is a security risk?”
Mr. Voss lowered his eyes. “I didn't question him.”
Lívia studied the plan. The passage ran behind the walls of the nursery, then turned toward the old servants' staircase. It ended near the north-wing laundry room.
“Could someone leave the house through it?” she asked.
“Not directly,” Mr. Voss said. “But there is a service door at the end of the laundry corridor.”
Dante turned to Rocco. “Check whether that door was used after the wing was sealed.”
Rocco made a note.
The estate manager then admitted that the north-wing bell had not been disconnected. It had only been removed from the main alarm panel. The wiring remained behind the wall.
“Who knew that?” Dante asked.
“Your uncle. The electrician. And me.”
Dante stared at him.
Mr. Voss looked ashamed. “I thought the bell was harmless. It was part of the old service system.”
Lívia remembered Theo covering his ears when the music box played. “It may not have been harmless to him.”
That afternoon, she sat with Theo in the garden. She placed three wooden figures on the grass: a little boy, a woman, and a tall man.
“Can you show me who is who?”
Theo touched the boy.
“Me.”
Then he touched the woman.
“Mommy.”
He moved the tall figure away from the others.
“Bad.”
“Did he scare your mommy?”
Theo nodded.
Lívia placed the figures side by side again, leaving space between the woman and the man. “You don't have to show me more.”
Theo took the woman and the boy and placed them behind the little wooden bench. Then he put the tall man near the gate.
“Hide,” he whispered.
Lívia's throat tightened. “You were trying to hide with your mommy.”
Theo nodded. He placed one hand over the boy figure.
“Flor come.”
“Yes,” Lívia said. “Flor came.”
He looked up at her. “You stay?”
“I'll stay while you need me.”
He leaned against her shoulder.
From the terrace, Dante watched them. He had spent two years asking Theo to remember his mother. Lívia had not asked him to remember anything. She had simply allowed the memories to arrive.
After the discovery in the nursery, Dante asked the estate manager to explain the history of the north wing. Mr. Voss brought out an old floor plan and spread it across the library table.
“The wing was renovated when your father was alive,” he explained. “The passage behind the nursery was originally used by the household staff. It was closed when the security system was installed.”
“Why was it not on the current plans?” Dante asked.
“Your uncle asked that it be removed from the renovation drawings. He said it was an unnecessary security risk.”
Dante looked at the narrow line that connected the nursery to the maintenance room. “A passage no one knows about is a security risk?”
Mr. Voss lowered his eyes. “I didn't question him.”
Lívia studied the plan. The passage ran behind the walls of the nursery, then turned toward the old servants' staircase. It ended near the north-wing laundry room.
“Could someone leave the house through it?” she asked.
“Not directly,” Mr. Voss said. “But there is a service door at the end of the laundry corridor.”
Dante turned to Rocco. “Check whether that door was used after the wing was sealed.”
Rocco made a note.
The estate manager then admitted that the north-wing bell had not been disconnected. It had only been removed from the main alarm panel. The wiring remained behind the wall.
“Who knew that?” Dante asked.
“Your uncle. The electrician. And me.”
Dante stared at him.
Mr. Voss looked ashamed. “I thought the bell was harmless. It was part of the old service system.”
Lívia remembered Theo covering his ears when the music box played. “It may not have been harmless to him.”
That afternoon, she sat with Theo in the garden. She placed three wooden figures on the grass: a little boy, a woman, and a tall man.
“Can you show me who is who?”
Theo touched the boy.
“Me.”
Then he touched the woman.
“Mommy.”
He moved the tall figure away from the others.
“Bad.”
“Did he scare your mommy?”
Theo nodded.
Lívia placed the figures side by side again, leaving space between the woman and the man. “You don't have to show me more.”
Theo took the woman and the boy and placed them behind the little wooden bench. Then he put the tall man near the gate.
“Hide,” he whispered.
Lívia's throat tightened. “You were trying to hide with your mommy.”
Theo nodded. He placed one hand over the boy figure.
“Flor come.”
“Yes,” Lívia said. “Flor came.”
He looked up at her. “You stay?”
“I'll stay while you need me.”
May you like
He leaned against her shoulder.
From the terrace, Dante watched them. He had spent two years asking Theo to remember his mother. Lívia had not asked him to remember anything. She had simply allowed the memories to arrive.
