Chapter 2 - The Woman Waiting in the Car

Leonardo did not look back at the ballroom.

He walked toward the front doors.

Mrs. Miller followed.

So did I.

Cassandra stayed where she was.

Her father did not move.

Outside, the night air was cold.

A black sedan waited beneath the stone entrance.

Leonardo stopped halfway down the steps.

His hands were shaking.

Not visibly.

Only enough for me to notice.

Mrs. Miller opened the rear door.

An elderly woman sat inside.

Silver hair.

Dark coat.

Thin hands folded over a leather handbag.

She looked at Leonardo.

And began crying.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

She simply covered her mouth.

Leonardo stared at her.

Same eyes.

Same jaw.

Same small scar above the left eyebrow.

The scar Leonardo had.

He whispered:

“Maria?”

The woman nodded.

Leonardo did not move.

She stepped from the car slowly.

“Leo.”

His face changed.

Nobody had called him that way all night.

Not like family.

Not like memory.

He swallowed.

“You’re my mother?”

Maria looked at him.

“I have been your mother every day.”

Leonardo’s eyes hardened.

“Then why did you let me believe you were dead?”

Maria flinched.

“I didn’t.”

“Everyone told me you died.”

“I know.”

“You disappeared when I was six.”

“I was taken.”

Leonardo looked at Mrs. Miller.

Then back at Maria.

“By my father?”

Maria nodded.

“Yes.”

The word landed harder than any scream.

Leonardo stepped closer.

“You were in that nursing home for fifteen years.”

“Fifteen years there.”

She paused.

“Seven years before that somewhere else.”

Leonardo frowned.

“Where?”

Maria looked toward the mansion.

At Cassandra’s father standing behind the glass doors.

“A private house owned by Victor Vale.”

Cassandra’s father.

Leonardo turned.

Victor Vale had finally come outside.

He descended the steps slowly.

“Leonardo.”

“Stop.”

Leonardo’s voice was quiet.

Victor stopped.

Maria’s face went pale.

Mrs. Miller moved beside her.

Leonardo looked between them.

“You knew where she was for twenty-two years?”

Victor exhaled.

“You don’t understand what your father was.”

Leonardo stared.

“I’m beginning to.”

Victor looked at Maria.

“She was afraid.”

Maria answered:

“I was drugged.”

Victor’s expression tightened.

Leonardo heard it.

“So she was not unstable.”

“No.”

Victor rubbed his jaw.

“Your father told me she was.”

Maria laughed once.

A bitter sound.

“And you believed him for twenty-two years?”

Victor looked away.

Leonardo stepped closer.

“Answer her.”

Victor said nothing.

Mrs. Miller reached into her handbag.

She removed a folded envelope.

“Maria asked me to keep this.”

Leonardo looked at it.

“What is it?”

“A letter from your father.”

Maria whispered:

“The last honest thing he ever wrote.”

Leonardo opened it.

The paper was old.

The handwriting was strong.

He read the first line.

Then stopped breathing.

“To Maria. If Leonardo ever learns Elena died that night, tell him I was not the only man in the room.”

Leonardo looked up.

Victor Vale had gone completely still.

Leonardo folded the letter once.

Very slowly.

“There was another man?”

Maria nodded.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

She looked at Victor.

Victor’s face lost color.

Leonardo’s voice dropped.

“Who was in the room when Elena died?”

Maria answered:

“Victor.”

Silence.

Cassandra came outside.

She had heard everything.

“Dad?”

Victor closed his eyes.

Leonardo looked at him.

“Did you help my father kill Elena?”

Victor opened his eyes.

“No.”

“Then what did you do?”

Victor looked toward Maria.

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And said:

“I helped him make it look like an accident.”