By sunrise, the mansion had changed.
Security doubled.
The gates remained locked.
Clara wasn’t permitted to take Sophie outside.
She hated every second of it.
At breakfast, Sophie pushed scrambled eggs around her plate.
“Can we go to the park?”
“Not today.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s raining.”
Sophie looked through the window.
“It’s sunny.”
Clara closed her eyes.
Across the room, Alessandro almost smiled.
Sophie pointed at him.
“He knows you lied.”
“Eat your eggs.”
Later, Clara cornered Alessandro in his study.
“I need answers.”
“You need patience.”
“My daughter is involved.”
“That’s why you’re staying here.”
“Staying here doesn’t tell me who photographed us.”
Alessandro leaned against his desk.
“We’re working on it.”
“Who is ‘we’?”
“People who are very good at finding answers.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It was supposed to.”
Clara folded her arms.
“I don’t scare as easily as you think.”
“I noticed.”
“Then stop treating me like an employee who should quietly follow orders.”
Something flashed in his expression.
“You are my employee.”
The words landed harder than either expected.
Clara nodded.
“Right.”
She turned.
“Clara.”
She stopped.
Alessandro’s voice softened.
“That came out wrong.”
“No. It came out exactly right.”
She left.
Two hours later, Marco found her folding laundry.
“We identified the photographer.”
Clara immediately stood.
“Who?”
“A private investigator.”
“Working for whom?”
Marco hesitated.
“Victor Hale.”
She didn’t recognize the name.
“Who is that?”
“Someone Alessandro knew years ago.”
“How many years?”
“Seven.”
Clara went still.
“The accident?”
Marco didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
That evening, Alessandro finally told her.
Victor Hale had once been his business partner.
After Alessandro refused to approve a dangerous expansion scheme, their partnership collapsed.
Victor had threatened him.
Weeks later, Isabella’s car crashed.
Nothing had ever been proven.
“But you think he caused it,” Clara said.
They stood in the empty dining room.
Alessandro stared at Isabella’s portrait above the fireplace.
“I know he did.”
“Then why isn’t he in prison?”
“Knowing something and proving it are different things.”
“And now he’s watching me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Alessandro turned toward her.
“Because he thinks you matter to me.”
Clara’s throat tightened.
“Do I?”
The question escaped before she could stop it.
Alessandro’s eyes held hers.
Neither moved.
Then Sophie came running into the room.
“Mr. Romano!”
The moment shattered.
Alessandro looked down.
“What happened?”
“My rabbit is sick.”
He blinked.
“What?”
Sophie held up the battered toy.
“He needs a doctor.”
“I’m not a doctor.”
“You have money.”
Clara burst out laughing.
Alessandro looked offended.
“What does that have to do with medicine?”
Sophie handed him the rabbit.
“Fix him.”
Alessandro stared at it.
Twenty minutes later, one of the most powerful businessmen in the city was sitting at a table while Clara stitched the rabbit’s torn ear.
Alessandro held a flashlight.
“You’re doing it wrong.”
Clara looked up.
“Would you like to do it?”
“No.”
“Then stop criticizing.”
Sophie whispered to him, “Mommy gets bossy.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Clara narrowed her eyes.
For the first time in years, laughter moved through the Romano dining room again.
But outside the gates, a black sedan sat beneath the trees.
Marco spotted it on the security monitor.
By the time his men reached the road, it was gone.
A package remained.
Inside was another photograph.
This one showed Isabella Romano.
Seven months pregnant.
On the back were five words.
You replaced them very quickly.
Alessandro read the message once.
Then crushed it in his fist.
“No.”
Marco watched him.
“What do you want to do?”
“End this.”
“How?”
Alessandro looked toward the ceiling.
Above them, Sophie was laughing as Clara prepared her bath.
His voice became frighteningly calm.
“Victor thinks they’re my weakness.”
He slipped Sophie’s pebble from his pocket.
“He’s wrong.”
Marco waited.
Alessandro looked at him.
“They’re the reason I’m finally going to finish what started seven years ago.”
---