Chapter 2 - THE ROOM BEHIND THE LAUNDRY
Sophia did not lead Lorenzo upstairs.
She led him down.
Past the main kitchen.
Past the servants' pantry.
Past the wine cellar where Lorenzo had celebrated birthdays with men who were now buried.
At the end of the basement corridor stood a narrow laundry room.
Emma held Sophia's hand.
Antonio followed behind Lorenzo.
Marco had tried to join them.
Lorenzo had stopped him with one sentence.
“Stay upstairs.”
Marco had smiled faintly.
“Of course.”
But Lorenzo knew that smile.
Marco only wore it when he was angry.
Sophia crossed the laundry room and pulled a tall shelving unit away from the wall.
Behind it was an old service door Lorenzo had never noticed.
“This mansion belonged to your grandfather before your father,” Sophia said.
“There are passages the current floor plans don't show.”
Lorenzo stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“My mother worked here.”
Sophia unlocked the door with a small brass key she wore around her neck.
Beyond it was a narrow stone staircase.
The air smelled cold and damp.
They descended twenty-three steps.
At the bottom was a corridor.
A single bulb burned overhead.
Emma pointed.
“That way.”
Lorenzo's chest tightened.
Sophia opened another door.
Inside was a tiny room.
A cot.
A rocking chair.
Baby formula.
Children's blankets.
Medicine bottles.
A portable heater.
And on a wooden table sat a framed photograph.
Lorenzo crossed the room in three steps.
His hands began shaking before he even touched it.
The photograph showed a baby girl asleep beneath a yellow blanket.
Around her tiny wrist was a hospital bracelet.
Lorenzo lifted the picture.
He could read the printing.
BABY GIRL CONTI-DELUCA.
His knees nearly failed him.
“When?”
Sophia covered her mouth.
“Three weeks after the crash.”
Lorenzo turned.
“You had her?”
“For one night.”
His expression changed.
Sophia quickly continued.
“I didn't steal her.”
“I didn't ask whether you stole her.”
His voice cracked for the first time.
“I asked where my daughter is.”
Sophia's tears fell.
“I don't know anymore.”
Lorenzo moved so suddenly Antonio stepped forward.
But Lorenzo stopped inches from Sophia.
“You hid my child inside my house and now you don't know where she is?”
“She wasn't safe.”
“From whom?”
Sophia stared toward the ceiling.
Toward the mansion above them.
“Someone close to you.”
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
“Name him.”
Sophia shook her head.
“I didn't know then.”
“And now?”
“I have suspicions.”
Emma wandered toward the rocking chair.
Something underneath caught her attention.
She reached down and pulled out a tiny silver object.
“Mommy.”
Sophia gasped.
Lorenzo took it.
It was half of a broken necklace.
A silver swallow.
The exact necklace Isabella had supposedly been wearing when her body was recovered.
Lorenzo looked at Sophia.
“This was Isabella's.”
“I know.”
“You said Isabella died.”
“I believed she did.”
Lorenzo stared at the broken chain.
Then he remembered the necklace recovered from the body.
Perfect.
Unbroken.
Cold spread through him.
There had been two necklaces.
Or someone had planted one.
“Who brought my daughter here?”
Sophia wiped her cheeks.
“A woman.”
“Name.”
“She wouldn't give me one.”
“What did she look like?”
Sophia hesitated.
“Like someone who had escaped hell.”
Lorenzo's pulse slowed.
“Was it Isabella?”
Sophia looked directly into his eyes.
“I couldn't recognize her face.”
“But she knew things only Isabella would know.”
Lorenzo stopped breathing.
“What things?”
Sophia whispered.
“She knew what you said to Isabella the night you first learned she was pregnant.”
Lorenzo's face emptied.
No one knew that conversation.
Not Marco.
Not his family.
Not his guards.
No one.
Sophia took another photograph from beneath the mattress.
This one showed a woman's bandaged hand holding the baby.
On the ring finger was a thin gold band engraved with two words.
Sempre tua.
Always yours.
Lorenzo had given Isabella that ring five years earlier.
Before the engagement.
Before anyone knew they were together.
Antonio looked away.
May you like
Sophia whispered the sentence that destroyed the last certainty Lorenzo had left.
“Mr. DeLuca, I don't think Isabella died in that crash.”
