Chapter 3 - FORTY THOUSAND DOLLARS
Toby answered on the seventh ring.
I had already decided that if he didn’t answer on the eighth, I was leaving the penthouse no matter what Dante Moretti said.
Then my brother’s voice came through the phone.
“Nora?”
I closed my eyes.
Alive.
For the moment, that was enough.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Are you alone?”
A pause.
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
Dante stood across the study with both arms folded.
Arthur had brought coffee and then vanished with the efficiency of a man who understood when families were about to explode.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
Toby lowered his voice.
“Couple guys.”
“Kowalski?”
Another pause.
“Yeah.”
I stood.
Dante shook his head once.
I ignored him.
“Put one on.”
“Nora—”
“Put one on the phone.”
Muffled voices.
Then a man I had heard once before took the line.
Stan Kowalski.
Marek Kowalski’s younger cousin.
The man who had come to my apartment two weeks earlier wearing a camel coat and smiling while he explained exactly what happened to people who mistook deadlines for suggestions.
“Miss Bennett,” he said.
“Take your men out of my brother’s apartment.”
“They’re drinking coffee.”
“He doesn’t own coffee.”
“That explains the taste.”
I hated him.
“What do you want?”
“The money.”
“You moved the deadline.”
“Circumstances changed.”
“What circumstances?”
A soft laugh.
“You changed employers.”
I looked at Dante.
His face did not move.
“You told me you didn’t care where the money came from.”
“We don’t.”
“Then why are you watching the Moretti building?”
Silence.
Too long.
I had guessed.
That frightened me more.
Stan’s voice sharpened.
“You’re asking the wrong questions.”
“No. I think I finally found the right one.”
Dante walked toward me and held out his hand.
I shook my head.
He mouthed, Give me the phone.
I mouthed something less polite.
He took it anyway.
“Stan.”
The change on the other end was immediate.
Nothing.
Then:
“Mr. Moretti.”
Dante’s voice stayed almost conversational.
“You have men inside Nora Bennett’s brother’s apartment.”
“Business matter.”
“It became my business when you contacted someone under my roof.”
“I didn’t realize the waitress was under your protection.”
“She is now.”
My heart skipped in a way I resented.
Dante continued.
“You will remove your men.”
“His debt—”
“Still exists.”
Stan paused.
I stared at Dante.
He could have erased it.
I had seen the thought in his eyes.
Instead, he said, “And he will pay what he owes. But your collection methods will stop today.”
“You’re asking us to ignore forty thousand.”
“No. I’m telling you to stop turning a debt into surveillance of my family.”
Another silence.
Then Stan said, “Ask the girl why Rosa Vassallo left Palermo.”
Dante’s face changed.
“Tell me.”
“I’m not your historian.”
“Where is Marek?”
“You know where.”
“Tell him I want a conversation.”
Stan laughed once.
“I don’t think you do.”
The line went dead.
Dante handed me the phone.
I dialed Toby back immediately.
He answered.
“They’re leaving.”
I exhaled.
“Lock the door.”
“I have a lock, Nora. They have shoes.”
“Toby.”
“I’m locking it.”
“Pack a bag.”
“Why?”
“Because your life is apparently connected to a Sicilian lullaby and a dead woman I never met.”
Long silence.
“Okay.”
That answer was too easy.
My suspicion woke up.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Toby.”
“I already told you what I did.”
“You told me you gambled.”
“I did.”
“Who introduced you to Kowalski?”
He hesitated.
My anger rose.
“Who?”
“A guy at work.”
“Name.”
“Eddie.”
“Last name.”
“I don’t know.”
“You borrowed forty thousand dollars from criminals because a man whose last name you don’t know suggested it?”
“When you say it like that—”
“There is no other way to say it!”
Dante raised one eyebrow.
I turned away from him.
Toby sighed.
“Nora, I messed up.”
“That is not new information.”
“I can come to you.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I looked through the glass wall toward the hallway.
Armed guards.
A dead woman’s hidden video.
Transmitters in a nursery.
The Mafia boss who had just told the Kowalskis I was under his protection.
“Because somehow this place might be worse.”
Dante almost smiled.
I hated that too.
“Go to Mom’s,” I told Toby.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want this near her.”
For once, my brother sounded like an adult.
That frightened me almost as much as anything else.
“Then go to Aunt June’s.”
“She lives in Wisconsin.”
“Exactly.”
He agreed.
After I hung up, Dante said, “He’s lying.”
I turned.
“You heard one side.”
“I heard enough.”
“My brother is stupid, not dangerous.”
“Those categories overlap.”
“So do arrogant and useful.”
He accepted that.
“Why do the Kowalskis know Rosa?”
“I have no idea.”
“We’re going to find out.”
“How?”
He picked up his phone.
“By asking Marek.”
“No.”
His eyes lifted.
“No?”
“You are not taking me to a meeting with the man my brother owes money.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
“You’re staying here.”
“That wasn’t better.”
“You are not leaving until we understand why Isabella named your grandmother.”
“You keep saying that like I work for the CIA.”
“No.”
He looked toward the nursery.
“You work for two four-year-olds.”
That stopped me.
He was right.
My job, ridiculous as it felt, was upstairs sleeping.
I sat again.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“For now.”
He nodded.
Then he said, “Arthur will take you home later to get clothes.”
“I can get my own clothes.”
“You were threatened fifteen minutes ago.”
“I have been threatened for three weeks.”
“That is not the argument you think it is.”
Again, annoyingly, fair.
At nine in the morning, Mia and Bella woke.
Not screaming.
That fact moved through the penthouse like news of a ceasefire.
The kitchen staff whispered.
Arthur smiled openly.
Even one of the guards looked surprised.
The twins wandered into breakfast holding hands.
Dante was already at the table reading something on a tablet.
Mia climbed into the chair beside him.
Bella sat beside me.
Dante looked at both girls.
“How did you sleep?”
Mia considered.
“Dark.”
Bella nodded.
“Good dark.”
Dante’s face changed.
It was the smallest expression.
But I saw guilt.
He had spent three years keeping every light on because doctors told him darkness was dangerous.
Maybe the doctors were wrong.
Or maybe someone had made sure they were.
“What doctors treated them?” I asked.
Dante’s eyes sharpened.
“Why?”
“Because if Isabella knew the nursery was bugged and somebody kept insisting the lights stay on, maybe those things connect.”
He put down the tablet.
“The girls saw several specialists.”
“Who chose them?”
“I did.”
“All of them?”
A pause.
“Enzo recommended the sleep specialist.”
I remembered the broad man who had taken the music box away.
Dante’s uncle?
No, nobody had said.
“What is Enzo to you?”
“My father’s younger brother.”
Of course.
Families in houses like this always came with titles that sounded less dangerous than they were.
“Does he live here?”
“No.”
“Access?”
“Yes.”
“Nursery access?”
“He is their great-uncle.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Dante stared at me.
Then looked down at his daughters.
“No,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t.”
Before we could continue, Arthur entered.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“The sweep is complete.”
Dante stood.
“How many?”
“Seven devices.”
The room went still.
“Seven?” I said.
Arthur nodded.
“Nursery, hallway, study corridor, and the girls’ playroom.”
Dante’s jaw locked.
“How old?”
“Different ages. Some less than a year. One perhaps three.”
Isabella had been right.
The spying began before she died.
And someone kept renewing it.
Dante left the table.
I followed.
He turned.
“Stay with the girls.”
“You just said devices were in their playroom.”
“That is why you stay with them.”
I looked at Mia.
She was putting jam on her sleeve.
Bella was feeding strawberries to a stuffed rabbit.
They looked like children again.
Not evidence.
Not heirs.
Not targets.
Children.
“I’m staying,” I said.
Dante nodded once.
Then he disappeared with Arthur.
The morning became almost normal.
We drew.
We built a tower.
We discovered Bella hated bananas for reasons she considered morally serious.
Mia asked whether I had a mommy.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Bridgeport.”
“Does she sing?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She says God gave our family one singer and it was Grandma Rosa.”
Mia thought about that.
“Grandma Rosa dead?”
“Yes.”
Bella looked up.
“Like Mommy.”
The room went quiet.
I had no idea what a nanny was supposed to say.
So I told the truth.
“Yes.”
Bella pushed two blocks together.
“Mommy knows Grandma Rosa?”
My chest tightened.
“I don’t know.”
“She knew song.”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe.”
Children accepted mystery more easily than adults.
“Maybe,” I said.
At noon, Dante returned.
His face said the sweep had produced nothing good.
He waited until Arthur took the girls to wash paint from their hands.
Then he closed the playroom door.
“Enzo is checking records.”
“You trust him?”
The question came out before I could soften it.
Dante stared.
“I did yesterday.”
That answer surprised me.
“What happened?”
“The oldest transmitter was purchased through a company owned by Kowalski.”
My stomach dropped.
“So Isabella discovered Kowalski was listening.”
“Maybe.”
“Then why did she write Rosa’s name instead of Marek’s?”
“That’s what I intend to ask him.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
I folded my arms.
“You are going to meet him.”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
“Will you kill him?”
Dante’s eyes shifted toward me.
“That is a strange question from a nanny.”
“I’m having a strange week.”
He looked almost amused.
Then the expression vanished.
“I am going to ask questions.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“No.”
He moved toward the door.
My phone rang.
Mom.
I froze.
Dante looked at the screen.
“Don’t.”
“She is my mother.”
“Speaker.”
I gave him a look.
Then answered.
“Mom?”
Her voice came tight.
“Nora, where are you?”
“At work.”
“What work?”
I had told her only that I found a nanny position.
I never said where.
“Mom—”
“Is it the Moretti family?”
Every hair on my arms rose.
Dante stopped moving.
“How do you know?”
Silence.
Then my mother began crying.
Not softly.
Not politely.
The kind of crying I had heard only once, when my father died.
“Nora,” she whispered, “you have to leave that house.”
“Why?”
“Now.”
“Mom, tell me why.”
“Because Rosa made me promise.”
My heart slammed.
“Promise what?”
“That if the Morettis ever found you, I would take you and run.”
Dante went completely still.
I gripped the phone.
“Found me?”
My mother sobbed.
“Sweetheart, your grandmother knew exactly who Isabella was.”
I could barely breathe.
“And she knew exactly what would happen if you two ever met.”
I stared at Dante.
“What would happen?”
My mother whispered the answer.
“The Kowalskis would come for you next.”
May you like
The call went dead.
And when I tried to call back, her phone was already off.
