Chapter 3 - Children See What Adults Ignore
Paolo did not move.
Neither did Dominic.
I stood between Ethan’s bedroom and the two men while Lily played ten feet away, blissfully unaware that the atmosphere in the hallway had become dangerous.
“You think I opened that gate?” Paolo finally asked.
Dominic’s expression remained unreadable.
“I think your code did.”
“My code and yours.”
“Yes.”
“You think after sixteen years I’d help somebody kill Ethan?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn't have to.”
Paolo looked genuinely wounded.
That made everything worse.
Dominic stepped closer.
“If you're innocent, help me prove it.”
Paolo took out his phone.
“Search everything.”
Dominic called two security men.
“Take his access cards. Temporarily.”
Paolo handed them over.
No argument.
But as he passed me, he paused.
“Claire.”
I looked up.
“Do not let Lily out of your sight.”
Then he walked away.
That warning stayed with me.
At one in the morning, I put Lily to sleep in a guest room beside Ethan’s suite.
She fought sleep.
“Is Ethan okay?”
“Yes.”
“Is cake bad?”
“No, baby.”
“Why man make cake bad?”
I sat beside her.
“Some adults make terrible choices.”
“Why?”
“I wish I knew.”
Her eyes began closing.
Then she murmured, “He had sparkly shoes.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The cake man.”
She was almost asleep.
“Black shoes. Shiny.”
Many men at the party had polished black shoes.
Not useful.
Then she added, “One had red on it.”
“Red?”
“Little red snake.”
Before I could ask anything else, she fell asleep.
I wrote it down.
Every detail mattered.
Downstairs, Dominic had converted his library into an investigation room.
Guest lists covered one table.
Security footage played across three monitors.
When I entered, he was alone.
“You should sleep,” he said.
“So should you.”
“I asked first.”
I handed him the paper.
“Lily remembered something.”
He read it.
“Red snake.”
“On the man’s shoe.”
Dominic stared at the phrase.
“Does it mean anything?”
“No.”
He leaned back.
For the first time, exhaustion showed beneath the controlled exterior.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You usually do.”
“Why do people fear you?”
His eyes lifted.
“Interesting time to ask.”
“I’ve worked in your house six years. Nobody ever explains anything.”
“Perhaps because you never asked.”
“I’m asking now.”
He was silent.
Then he said, “My father believed a family like ours survived because people feared disappointing us.”
“That is a very polite way to describe organized crime.”
A corner of his mouth almost moved.
“You want honesty?”
“Yes.”
“My family made money from things I am not proud of.”
“Are you?”
“Still?”
He looked toward the monitor.
“Less than my father. More than I’d like my son ever to know.”
That answer surprised me.
“Then why not leave?”
“You don't simply resign from a name like Moretti.”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
His gaze sharpened.
Most employees would have apologized.
I did not.
Perhaps nearly watching my child become a target had burned away some of my fear.
Dominic looked at me for a long moment.
“You’re right.”
I hadn't expected that.
He opened a drawer.
Inside was a photograph of a beautiful dark-haired woman holding a much younger Ethan.
“My wife, Isabella.”
I had seen photographs of her before.
She died three years earlier in a highway accident.
At least that was the official story.
“She wanted out,” Dominic said.
“Out of what?”
“All of it.”
He looked at Isabella’s picture.
“She wanted me to sell the clubs, clean up the shipping companies, make everything legitimate before Ethan became old enough to understand.”
“Did you agree?”
“Eventually.”
“What happened?”
“She died before I finished.”
His voice became quieter.
“I've spent three years doing what she asked.”
“And Victor opposes it.”
“Yes.”
The pattern became clearer.
“So Ethan’s death would stop the restructuring?”
“It would destroy me emotionally and create a legal fight over several trusts.”
I felt sick.
A child reduced to paperwork.
Dominic looked at his wife’s photograph.
“Isabella distrusted Victor.”
“Why?”
“She believed he was stealing from the companies.”
“Was he?”
“I never proved it.”
Suddenly, a loud crash came from upstairs.
I ran before Dominic could react.
“Lily!”
We reached the guest room.
The door was open.
A lamp lay shattered.
The bed was empty.
My heart stopped.
“LILY!”
I ran toward the bathroom.
Empty.
Closet.
Empty.
Dominic barked into his radio.
“Lock every exit!”
Then a tiny voice came from beneath the bed.
“Mommy?”
I dropped to the floor.
Lily crawled out.
I grabbed her.
“What happened?”
“A man came.”
Dominic crouched.
“What man?”
“I hid.”
“Did you see him?”
She nodded.
“He opened Mommy’s bag.”
My handbag lay on the chair.
The contents had been scattered.
Nothing seemed missing.
Then I saw the paper where I had written Lily’s observations.
Gone.
The intruder had not come for money.
He had come for what Lily remembered.
Dominic checked the hallway camera.
Blank.
Somebody had disabled it for ninety seconds.
Again.
But whoever entered made one mistake.
Lily had hidden before they arrived.
Which meant she had seen them from underneath the bed.
“Sweetheart,” I whispered. “What did his shoes look like?”
Her eyes widened.
“Red snake.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
“You saw it again?”
She nodded.
Dominic stood.
I had never seen his face like that.
“Who wears them?”
He looked toward the hallway.
“My brother-in-law.”
I stared.
“Isabella had a brother?”
“Daniel Rossi.”
“Was he at the party?”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“But why would Isabella’s brother kill her son?”
Dominic did not answer.
He was looking at the photograph of Isabella on the dresser.
May you like
And when he finally spoke, his voice was hollow.
“Maybe Ethan wasn't the first person Daniel tried to kill.”
