Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN IN THE SILVER LOCKET
They returned to the estate after dark, carrying Rusk’s testimony and a
new fear. Celeste Moretti had spent years managing the family’s
charitable foundation and serving as the gracious widow of a man
everyone had quietly learned not to criticize. She was elegant, patient,
and always careful to say the right thing.
That made her more frightening than an obvious enemy.
Dante found her in the music room, seated beside the piano. She wore a
pearl-gray dress and held a cup of tea. The moment she saw him, she
smiled.
“You look exhausted, darling.”
“Where were you at 5:42 yesterday afternoon?”
Her smile did not fade. “At the foundation office. Why?”
“A woman entered the dining room wearing my mother’s locket.”
Celeste set the cup down. “Then perhaps you should ask your security
staff why they allowed her in.”
“Rusk says you left the estate the night my mother disappeared.”
For the first time, a flicker crossed her face. It vanished almost
instantly.
“Gabriel Rusk is an old liar.”
“Did you start the fire?”
Celeste rose. “Your father was a difficult man. He made mistakes. But I
stayed beside him when everyone else abandoned him.”
“You stayed because he gave you control.”
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You think the truth will set
you free. It won’t. The truth is a knife, Dante. It cuts the person who
holds it just as deeply as the person it’s aimed at.”
“Then why are you afraid of it?”
Her eyes went cold. “Because you have no idea what you’re waking.”
She walked past him, leaving the music room without another word.
Later, Marcus reported that a woman matching the security footage had
been seen near the old railway station. She had asked for a taxi to the
coast and paid in cash. Dante and Sofia drove there before dawn.
The station was almost deserted. A woman in a dark coat stood beneath
the clock, her silver hair tucked beneath a scarf. When she turned,
Dante saw his mother’s eyes.
He stopped breathing.
“Dante,” she said.
The voice was older, rougher, but the cadence was unmistakable. He had
heard it in childhood dreams, in recordings he kept hidden, in the
memory of a lullaby he could barely recall.
“Mother?”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears. She reached for the locket at her
throat.
“My son.”
Dante crossed the platform in three strides. He stopped just short of
touching her, as if afraid she would disappear. Then Isabella pulled him
into her arms, and he held her with the desperate strength of someone
who had spent eighteen years grieving a ghost.
Sofia stood back, giving them the moment. Isabella eventually drew away
and looked at her.
“You must be Rosa’s daughter.”
Sofia swallowed. “Sofia.”
Isabella took her hand. “Your mother saved my life. And she saved
yours.”
“Am I Alessandra?”
Isabella’s face softened with pain. “Yes. You were born Alessandra
Moretti. Rosa raised you as Sofia Reyes because your father would have
used you to control the trust. You were never meant to carry the family
name until it was safe.”
Sofia felt as though the ground had shifted under her. She had imagined
a hundred explanations, but none had prepared her to hear her identity
spoken aloud by a woman who had been presumed dead.
“Why didn’t you come back?” Dante asked. His voice was raw. “Why did you
let me believe you were dead?”
Isabella looked down. “I tried. Twice. The first time, Celeste’s men
found me. The second time, someone close to you sent word that you were
being watched. I thought staying away was the only way to keep you
alive.”
“You could have trusted me.”
“You were eighteen, Dante. You were grieving, angry, and surrounded by
your father’s people. I had no proof of what he’d done. I was afraid
they would destroy you to reach me.”
Sofia looked at the locket. “You wore it in the dining room. Why?”
“To show you I was alive. I knew the flowers would frighten you, but I
hoped you would understand that the warning was meant for you, not
against you. I placed them before dinner and left a message beneath the
vase.”
“Then who poisoned the soup?” Dante asked.
Isabella’s face turned pale. “I didn’t know the soup would be poisoned.”
A train whistle sounded in the distance. Isabella looked toward the
exit.
“Someone followed me here,” she whispered. “We have to leave.”
A man stepped from behind a pillar. Another appeared at the far end of
the platform. Both wore dark coats.
Dante moved in front of Isabella and Sofia.
“Run,” Isabella said.
But before they could move, a familiar voice rang across the platform.
“Don’t be dramatic, Isabella.”
May you like
Celeste emerged from the station office, smiling as if she had arrived
for a pleasant family reunion.
