Chapter 1 - THE MARK BENEATH HER CURLS“What?”
Marco’s voice came too quickly.
Vincent stood at the end of the table and watched him.
“I said, interesting.”
Marco swallowed.
Vincent turned toward Elena.
“You've worked in this house for two years.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You've never mentioned knowing Marco.”
“I don't.”
Marco immediately nodded.
“She doesn't.”
Vincent's gaze moved between them.
Mia was still crying quietly against her mother's shoulder.
The child’s brown curls covered the back of her neck again.
But Vincent had seen the mark.
And he had seen Marco's reaction.
A V.
Small.
Sharp.
Distinctive.
The same shape Vincent remembered from a photograph he had buried five years ago.
His daughter Sophia had had one.
Not on her neck.
Behind her left ear.
Vincent remembered because he had kissed it every night when she was sick.
A tiny birthmark shaped like a narrow V.
He had once joked that it looked like a bird flying away.
The memory struck so hard that his chest tightened.
He moved closer to Mia.
Elena instinctively stepped back.
Vincent stopped.
“Relax.”
“She’s scared.”
“So am I.”
Elena blinked.
Vincent crouched.
Mia peeked over her mother's shoulder.
He looked at her carefully.
“What's your rabbit's name?”
Mia sniffed.
“Bunny.”
“Does Bunny have a last name?”
The little girl shook her head.
Vincent almost smiled.
“Good.”
He stood.
Then his expression changed.
“Marco.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Sophia?”
The room became colder.
Marco's face lost what little color remained.
“Everybody knew Sophia.”
“No.”
Vincent's voice sharpened.
“I asked if you knew her.”
Marco looked at Elena.
Then Mia.
Then back at Vincent.
“Yes.”
Vincent's stomach dropped.
“You told me you never met Elena.”
“I didn't.”
“You've met her daughter.”
Marco's jaw tightened.
“Boss…”
“Answer me.”
Marco glanced toward the door.
“Not here.”
Vincent's voice became almost gentle.
“Then where?”
Marco said nothing.
Vincent looked at the guards stationed outside.
“Take Elena and Mia to the guest wing.”
Elena stiffened.
“Why?”
“Because I need to ask Marco something.”
“I haven't done anything.”
“I know.”
Vincent looked at Mia.
“Nobody is going to hurt you.”
Elena hesitated.
Then she followed the guards.
Mia looked back at Vincent.
Their eyes met.
For one strange second, Vincent felt something he had not felt in five years.
Not grief.
Not exactly.
Recognition.
He did not understand it.
And he hated that he didn't.
When the door closed, Vincent turned.
“Start talking.”
Marco remained silent.
Vincent walked closer.
“The mark.”
Marco's shoulders dropped.
“Boss…”
“The mark on that child's neck.”
Silence.
“Why did it scare you?”
Marco rubbed his jaw.
“It didn't scare me.”
Vincent stared at him.
“You turned white.”
“I was surprised.”
“You looked like you'd seen a ghost.”
Marco's eyes lowered.
Vincent waited.
Finally, Marco whispered,
“I thought I recognized it.”
“From where?”
Marco looked up.
“From Sophia.”
The world stopped.
Vincent's voice became very quiet.
“What did you say?”
“The mark.”
Marco swallowed.
“Sophia had the same shape.”
Vincent stared at him.
“Where?”
“Behind her ear.”
Vincent stepped backward.
His daughter.
His dead daughter.
The mark.
A coincidence.
It had to be.
“What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear.”
Vincent slammed his palm against the table.
“You have lied to me before.”
Marco flinched.
“Not about this.”
“Then tell me.”
Marco said nothing.
Vincent leaned closer.
“Who is Mia Rossi?”
Marco's silence was the answer.
Vincent's voice dropped.
“Who is she?”
Marco finally said,
“I don't know.”
Vincent smiled without humor.
“That's the third lie.”
Marco's eyes hardened.
“Boss.”
“Get out.”
“What?”
“Get out before I forget we've been friends for fifteen years.”
Marco left.
Vincent remained alone.
He looked at the empty chair where Mia had been hiding.
Then toward the door.
“Five years,” he whispered.
Five years since Sophia died.
Five years since the last photograph.
Five years since a tiny V-shaped birthmark had meant anything to him.
His phone rang.
Private number.
Vincent answered.
“Moretti.”
There was silence.
Then an old woman's voice.
“You finally saw the child.”
Vincent froze.
“Who is this?”
“You should ask yourself a different question.”
“What question?”
“Why did Marco lie?”
The call ended.
Vincent stared at the screen.
Then someone knocked.
Daniel Cole, head of security, entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found something.”
Vincent looked up.
“A few months ago, Elena requested access to the old family archives.”
“Why?”
“She claimed she was looking for employment records.”
Vincent's expression darkened.
“Did she find anything?”
“We don't know.”
“Search her room.”
Daniel hesitated.
“Quietly.”
“Understood.”
Vincent walked toward the window.
Then he stopped.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Bring me every photograph we have of Sophia.”
“Every one?”
“Every photograph.”
“Even the hospital records?”
Vincent's voice became colder.
“Especially those.”
In the guest wing, Elena sat on the bed with Mia sleeping against her.
The child clutched Bunny.
Elena stroked her hair.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Is the big man angry?”
“No.”
“He looks sad.”
Elena's heart broke.
She kissed her daughter's forehead.
“Stay away from him.”
“Why?”
“Because some doors should stay closed.”
Mia looked confused.
“Why?”
Elena forced a smile.
“Because Mommy said so.”
The little girl closed her eyes.
Elena waited until she was asleep.
Then she opened the bottom drawer.
Inside was a photograph.
A woman.
A little girl.
And a man Elena had never allowed herself to think about for five years.
Vincent Moretti.
On the back of the photograph was written:
SHE WAS NEVER YOURS TO BURY.
Elena's fingers trembled.
May you like
Because she had been waiting five years for the Moretti family to discover the truth.
She had never expected it to happen because of a three-year-old crawling beneath a table.
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