Chapter 8 - THE NANNY WHO OPENED THE GATE
Camille’s hands shook so badly the gun barrel trembled.
That was the only reason Dante did not shoot her.
Elena knew it.
Camille knew it too.
She stood six feet away with tears running down her face while Sal bled on the hallway carpet.
Sofia was behind Elena inside the half-closed safe room.
The child could not see Sal clearly.
Thank God.
“Camille,” Sofia whispered.
The nanny broke.
Her mouth opened.
No sound came out.
Dante lowered his weapon one inch.
“Where is your son?”
Camille swallowed.
“Vale took him yesterday.”
“Name.”
“Lucas.”
“How old?”
“Eight.”
Dante’s eyes hardened.
“What did they order you to do?”
“Open the east gate. Disable the interior lock. Keep Sofia out of the safe room.”
Sofia clutched Elena’s shirt.
Camille sobbed.
“I couldn’t do the last part.”
Dante glanced at Sal.
“You shot him.”
“In the shoulder. I aimed away from his chest.”
Sal groaned from the floor.
“Very considerate.”
Elena almost laughed from pure nerves.
Camille lowered the gun slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
Dante’s voice was cold.
“Where did they take Lucas?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why should I trust you?”
“Because I can tell you what Vittorio wants.”
Footsteps sounded downstairs.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Dante’s father was inside.
Camille looked toward the staircase.
“He doesn’t want Sofia dead.”
Dante’s face turned murderous.
“That is supposed to comfort me?”
“No. He wants her name.”
“What?” Elena asked.
Camille looked at her.
“The trust.”
Dante understood.
Sofia was Alessandra’s heir.
Children’s Harbor Foundation.
The money.
The shares.
If Vittorio controlled Sofia legally—or made Dante disappear—he could reach everything Alessandra had protected.
“He needs her alive long enough to sign control through a guardian,” Dante said.
Camille nodded.
“He said you would never give it willingly.”
“He was right.”
Downstairs, glass broke.
A man shouted, “Dante!”
Vittorio.
His voice carried through the house.
“Do not make this ugly.”
Dante laughed softly.
The sound scared Elena.
“Too late.”
He crouched beside Sal.
“Can you move?”
Sal pressed his hand to the wound.
“I can complain while moving.”
“Good enough.”
Dante looked at Camille.
“If you want your son back, help me get Sofia out.”
Camille stared.
“You would help Lucas?”
“He is eight.”
That was all Dante said.
Something changed in Camille’s face.
She lowered the gun completely.
“Service stairs.”
Dante nodded.
“Vittorio knows them.”
“Not the old laundry shaft.”
Elena blinked.
“There’s a laundry shaft?”
“This house was built in 1912.”
“Of course there is.”
Camille stepped toward the wall opposite Sofia’s room.
Dante raised his gun again.
She stopped.
“Panel behind the painting.”
Elena pulled aside a landscape.
A narrow door.
Old stairs descended into darkness.
Sofia looked at Dante.
“Daddy?”
He crouched.
“This is a game.”
She was crying.
“You’re lying.”
Dante stopped.
Elena watched him decide whether to protect her with fantasy or truth.
He chose truth.
“Yes.”
Sofia’s lip trembled.
“Are bad people here?”
“Yes.”
“Because of Mommy?”
His face tightened.
“Because of things grown-ups did.”
“Are you coming?”
He looked toward the stairs.
Then toward Vittorio’s voice below.
“Yes.”
Elena saw how hard that answer was.
Everything in Dante wanted to turn around and fight.
But Alessandra’s video had said it.
Brave decision versus safe one.
This time he chose safe.
For Sofia.
They moved through the hidden staircase.
Sal leaned on Camille.
Elena carried Sofia.
Dante went last, weapon aimed behind them.
The passage emptied into the basement laundry room.
A narrow delivery door opened toward the rear garden.
One of Dante’s loyal guards waited outside.
“Car is ready.”
Dante looked at Camille.
“Lucas?”
She shook her head helplessly.
“I only know Vale keeps temporary hostages at company sites.”
Sal grimaced.
“Vale Security has twelve properties in Massachusetts.”
Camille whispered, “Lucas has asthma.”
Elena’s heart twisted.
Dante pulled out his phone.
He called Gabriel.
“Find the boy.”
No greeting.
No explanation.
Gabriel apparently did not need either.
“Name?”
“Lucas Pierce. Eight. Vale has him.”
“I’m on it.”
Dante hung up.
Camille stared at him.
“Why?”
He looked at her.
“Because children do not pay for adults.”
Sofia heard.
She put one hand on her father’s cheek.
Elena looked away.
They reached the cars.
Then the house lights went black.
A second later, an explosion blew out the east windows.
Camille screamed.
Dante pushed everyone behind the stone wall.
Flames rose.
“My house,” Sofia cried.
Dante held her.
“Just a house.”
Elena knew that was not true.
It was where Alessandra had lived.
Where Sofia took her first steps.
Where grief had lived eighteen months.
But Dante did not look back again.
They drove north.
Maine.
Project Stella.
For two hours, nobody said much.
Sofia slept against Elena in the back seat.
Dante sat beside them.
At some point, his hand rested on the seat between them.
Sofia’s small fingers found his.
Then, half asleep, she took Elena’s hand too and pushed them together.
Dante looked at Elena.
Neither moved away.
It was not romance.
Not yet.
It was three frightened people holding on because the road was dark and the past was on fire behind them.
The Maine house was hidden beyond a pine forest near a frozen lake.
Small by Rinaldi standards.
Three bedrooms.
Stone fireplace.
No visible neighbors.
Lucia was already there.
So was Maria, moved separately with a medical team.
Elena ran to her mother.
Maria hugged her carefully.
“You look terrible.”
“So do you.”
“Good. We match.”
Sofia hugged Maria’s leg.
Everyone stopped.
The old woman smiled down.
“Hello, stella.”
Sofia looked up.
“You know my song.”
“I know your song.”
Dante turned away, overwhelmed.
Elena followed him onto the back porch.
Snow had begun to fall.
He stood looking at the lake.
“Your house is burning.”
“Yes.”
“You okay?”
“No.”
She appreciated the answer.
After a moment, he said, “I kept Alessandra’s clothes exactly where she left them.”
Elena stayed silent.
“Sofia’s drawings were still on her desk. Her coffee cup was in the cabinet she used.”
He laughed quietly at himself.
“Eighteen months and I could not move a cup.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I thought keeping everything the same meant Sofia would remember.”
“And now?”
He looked through the window at his daughter talking to Maria.
“Now I think I was making her live inside a museum.”
Elena touched the porch rail.
“Alessandra did not ask you to erase her.”
“No.”
“She asked you not to make grief a locked door.”
His eyes moved to her.
“You read that part too.”
“She wrote it to me.”
“What was the private part?”
Elena smiled faintly.
“Still private.”
He stepped closer.
“Does it concern me?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Elena.”
She laughed.
Then saw how close he was.
The laugh faded.
Snow landed in his dark hair.
His face had a bruise near the jaw from Pier Six.
His eyes looked tired enough to tell the truth.
“Why does Sofia trust you?” he asked.
Elena swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“You never ask her to stop being afraid.”
The words caught her.
He continued.
“Everyone around her keeps trying to fix it. You just sit with her.”
“That’s because I’m not good at fixing things.”
“I disagree.”
Silence.
His hand lifted.
Stopped near her face.
He did not touch her.
Not without permission.
Elena felt something dangerous open between them.
Then his phone rang.
Gabriel.
Dante answered immediately.
“Tell me.”
“We found Lucas.”
Camille ran onto the porch when she heard.
“Where?”
Gabriel’s voice came through speaker.
“Vale office in Quincy. He’s alive. Scared. Asthma attack starting, but paramedics are with him.”
Camille collapsed against the doorframe.
She sobbed.
Dante closed his eyes.
“Bring him here.”
“There’s more.”
Dante’s eyes opened.
“What?”
“Vale left a computer behind.”
“And?”
“We found a live location ping tied to Vittorio’s phone.”
Dante looked toward the dark road beyond the trees.
“How far?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Twenty-two miles.”
Everyone went still.
Vittorio was already in Maine.
Before anyone slept, Dante walked the perimeter himself.
Elena found him near the boathouse checking a rusted lock with a flashlight.
“You have men for that.”
“I know.”
“You pay them?”
“Yes.”
“Then this is insulting to everybody.”
He looked at her.
“You should be inside.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The order voice.”
His mouth almost curved.
Then he looked toward the trees.
“My father found one safe house already.”
“This one belonged to Alessandra.”
“Which means I should have known about it.”
Elena stepped beside him.
“Maybe that is why it stayed safe.”
The truth stung him.
She saw it.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
He switched off the flashlight.
“She spent years building exits because she did not believe I could protect her.”
“She spent years building exits because your father taught everyone that power could enter any room.”
Dante looked at her.
“That is different.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“One blames you. The other tells you what kind of man not to become.”
Snow moved quietly through the pines.
After a long moment, Dante nodded.
Then he held the boathouse door open for her.
“Please go inside.”
May you like
Elena smiled.
“Much better.”
