Chapter 2 - The Security Footage Showed Someone Had Been Watching Sophia for Weeks, and Alessandro Realized His Daughter’s Paintings Were Hiding a MessageBy morning, security had doubled.
Three guards stood outside the nursery.
Two followed Sophia.
One followed me.
I hated it.
Sophia loved it.
She thought the guards were “giant uncles.”
Alessandro did not smile.
He spent the entire morning reviewing footage.
I stood beside him.
“What are you looking for?”
“Anything involving your daughter.”
“Why?”
“She was not supposed to find that room.”
“I know.”
“Then why did she?”
“I don't know.”
He watched the footage again.
Sophia walking through the eastern corridor.
Stopping.
Turning.
Walking back.
Then opening the forbidden door.
He froze the image.
“Look.”
I leaned closer.
A shadow appeared at the end of the corridor.
A man.
Gone before Sophia opened the door.
“Who is that?”
“We're checking.”
He moved to another camera.
The same shadow.
Three days earlier.
Then another.
Five days earlier.
Then another.
Two weeks.
Four weeks.
Someone had been following Sophia.
My blood turned cold.
“Why?”
Alessandro didn't answer.
He pulled up the visitor logs.
No unauthorized entry.
Then he looked toward me.
“Does your daughter talk about anyone?”
“She's three.”
“That wasn't an answer.”
I thought.
“She talks about everyone.”
“Anyone specific?”
“Sometimes she talks about Isabella.”
He went still.
“What exactly does she say?”
“She says Isabella likes butterflies.”
His expression tightened.
“Anything else?”
“She says Isabella doesn't like one of the rooms.”
“Which?”
I thought.
“The basement.”
Alessandro's eyes hardened.
“What basement?”
I looked at him.
“I didn't know there was one.”
“There is.”
He stood.
“Come with me.”
We went downstairs.
The mansion had three underground levels.
The first held wine.
The second held security equipment.
The third had not been opened in years.
Alessandro unlocked it.
The smell of dust hit us.
At the end of the corridor was an old room.
A child's playroom.
I froze.
There were photographs everywhere.
Isabella.
As a toddler.
Then four.
Then five.
Then six.
But there were other photographs too.
My daughter.
Sophia.
Taken recently.
I grabbed Alessandro's arm.
“She's been watched.”
He stared.
There was no surprise in his face.
Only fury.
A desk held old files.
One folder had my name.
Another had Sophia's.
I opened mine.
Employment history.
Bank records.
My old address.
My mother's name.
Everything.
Then I saw the date.
The first photograph of me had been taken three months before I started working for him.
“How did they know me?”
Alessandro stared.
“They didn't.”
“What?”
“They knew your daughter.”
I looked at Sophia's file.
Her birth date.
Medical records.
Her father's name.
I froze.
Her father had been listed as unknown.
That wasn't true.
I had simply never told anyone.
Because the man who fathered Sophia had disappeared before she was born.
I had believed him dead.
Alessandro looked at me.
“You never told me.”
“You didn't ask.”
He nodded.
Then opened another drawer.
Inside was a series of drawings.
Sophia's drawings.
Except I had never seen them before.
Each showed a garden.
A little girl.
A black car.
And one man.
A tall figure with a red mark on his hand.
I stared.
“That's not someone she knows.”
Alessandro examined the drawings.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He turned one over.
A date.
The date corresponded to six weeks earlier.
My daughter had drawn the same man before she started working here.
Then another drawing.
The same face.
The same red mark.
The same black car.
Alessandro picked up the last drawing.
It showed the forbidden room.
The door.
The three butterflies.
And a small black box beneath the floor.
He stared.
“Where did she get this?”
“I don't know.”
Then Sophia's voice came from behind us.
“That belongs to her.”
We turned.
She stood in the doorway.
I hurried toward her.
“Sophia, how did you get down here?”
She pointed at the drawing.
“Isabella said Daddy hid it.”
Alessandro stopped breathing.
“Who is Daddy?”
She pointed at him.
“You.”
Silence.
My heart raced.
Alessandro slowly crouched.
“What did you say?”
“You're her daddy.”
He stared at Sophia.
Then at me.
I shook my head.
“She means Isabella.”
“I know.”
His voice barely worked.
Sophia continued.
“She said the bad man wants the box.”
Alessandro's face hardened.
“What bad man?”
She pointed at the drawing.
“The one with the sad eyes.”
My blood ran cold.
That was the same phrase she had used in the forbidden room.
The same person.
The man who had watched her.
Alessandro stood.
“Find him.”
His guards moved.
Then the security alarm sounded.
Someone had entered the eastern wing.
We ran.
A figure disappeared through the garden doors.
Alessandro chased him.
I stayed with Sophia.
Then my daughter pointed toward the wall.
“Mama.”
“What?”
“She forgot one.”
I looked.
The painting of Isabella.
One butterfly.
Behind it, the wall was slightly raised.
I touched it.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a small silver box.
Exactly like Sophia's drawing.
I picked it up.
Before I could open it, Alessandro returned.
He saw it.
His face changed.
“Where did you find that?”
“Behind Isabella's painting.”
His hands shook.
He took the box.
Inside was a single photograph.
Isabella.
Pregnant.
I stared.
Alessandro couldn't breathe.
His daughter had been pregnant?
The official records said nothing.
Then another object fell from the box.
A hospital bracelet.
Baby's name:
ALEX MORETTI.
I looked at Alessandro.
He looked devastated.
His dead daughter had apparently been hiding a pregnancy.
And suddenly, the room became colder.
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