Chapter 3 - The Photograph in the Red Folder
I didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Dominic.
Lily slept.
That was enough.
At six in the morning, she woke up and asked for pancakes.
Dominic made them.
He burned the first batch.
Lily laughed.
He pretended to be offended.
I watched from the kitchen doorway.
This was the same man whose name made criminals lower their voices.
He was standing over a frying pan while a five-year-old criticized his technique.
“You forgot the chocolate chips.”
Dominic looked serious.
“That is a serious mistake.”
“Yes.”
“How do I fix it?”
“More chocolate.”
He added more.
Lily nodded.
“Good.”
Dominic looked at me.
“She's demanding.”
“She gets that from me.”
“I know.”
My heart skipped.
After breakfast, Dominic brought me to his study.
A red folder sat on the desk.
“That's Evan's.”
I opened it.
Inside were financial records.
Hospital invoices.
Insurance documents.
Travel receipts.
And one note.
I recognized Evan's handwriting.
Mara,
If anything happens to me, trust no one from my old life.
Except Dominic.
I stopped reading.
My name.
He had written it for me.
Dominic watched my reaction.
“Why did he trust you?”
“I don't know.”
“Did he know your father?”
“My father died when I was fourteen.”
“Before Evan.”
Dominic nodded.
“Then there may be another connection.”
I turned the page.
A list of names.
One was circled.
Daniel Mercer.
Another.
Rafael Moretti.
Dominic's father.
And beneath them was a third.
My mother.
I stared.
“What is my mother doing here?”
Dominic took the paper.
He looked at it.
His expression changed.
“Your mother wasn't involved.”
“How do you know?”
“Because this document isn't an accusation.”
“What is it?”
“Protection.”
I frowned.
He pointed.
Every person on the list had one number next to their name.
Amounts.
Not money.
Years.
He explained.
Evan had been documenting how long each person had been connected to the network.
My mother had been connected for thirty-two years.
I felt sick.
“My mother never worked.”
“She didn't need to.”
“What does that mean?”
Dominic looked at me.
“She worked as a courier.”
My mother's face flashed through my memory.
Quiet.
Always nervous.
Always telling me to be careful.
Always afraid to travel.
After my father's death, she never spoke about him.
I had thought it was grief.
Maybe it was fear.
A phone rang.
Dominic answered.
His face became cold.
“What happened?”
Silence.
Then:
“Get them out.”
He hung up.
“What?"
“Your apartment.”
“What about it?”
“Someone broke in.”
I felt my blood turn to ice.
“Lily's things?”
“Destroyed.”
“Why?”
“They were looking for something.”
I knew immediately.
Evan's things.
My hands shook.
“I need to go.”
“No.”
“My husband's things are there.”
“Already sent for.”
He placed his phone on the desk.
A photograph appeared.
Our apartment.
The refrigerator door torn open.
Drawers emptied.
A toy chest overturned.
Then another photograph.
Lily's bedroom.
Mr. Buttons was gone.
I felt panic explode through me.
“Where is her rabbit?”
Dominic looked at the image.
“We're finding it.”
Lily appeared in the doorway.
“Mr. Buttons?”
I knelt.
“Sweetheart, we'll find him.”
She frowned.
“Someone took him.”
I looked at Dominic.
He nodded.
A search began.
Four hours later, a guard found Mr. Buttons inside a trash container two blocks from my apartment.
His belly had been cut open.
I cried when I saw him.
Lily hugged the damaged rabbit.
Dominic crouched beside her.
“Your rabbit is a survivor.”
She nodded.
“He doesn't give up.”
“Neither should you.”
Lily smiled.
Then she whispered,
“Daddy used to hide things in him.”
Dominic froze.
I froze.
“What did you say?”
Lily pointed at Mr. Buttons.
“Daddy hid things.”
I looked at the rabbit.
My hands trembled.
I remembered.
Evan had bought that rabbit at a street fair the week before his death.
Lily had loved it.
He had joked that Mr. Buttons was better at keeping secrets than adults.
I carefully opened the damaged seam.
Inside was a tiny waterproof capsule.
Dominic took it.
He looked at me.
“You need to see this.”
Inside the capsule was a memory card.
We loaded it into a computer.
A video appeared.
Evan.
Alive.
Sitting in our apartment.
He looked tired.
He looked scared.
And he looked directly into the camera.
“Mara, if you're seeing this, then I'm probably dead.”
I covered my mouth.
Lily leaned against me.
Evan continued.
“I need you to listen carefully.”
He looked down.
“I wasn't killed because of money.”
My heart stopped.
“I was killed because I found out who has been controlling the Moretti family for twenty years.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
Evan looked toward the camera again.
“It's not my friend.”
“It's not Rafael.”
“It isn't even the organization.”
A pause.
“The person behind everything is someone who has always been close enough to touch both families.”
Then he said a name.
I knew it.
May you like
Everyone knew it.
My own mother.
