Chapter 7 - What Elena Hid for Her Daughter
Leonardo ordered the mansion searched.
Every room.
Every safe.
Every wall.
Marcus had said Elena hid something.
Something that belonged to Cassandra.
Mrs. Miller sat near the fireplace.
Her eyes remained on the portrait.
I brought her water.
She touched my wrist.
“Anna.”
“Yes?”
“Look at the dress.”
I turned.
The portrait showed Elena in a dark blue dress.
One hand resting on a table.
One hand holding a small book.
I looked closer.
“The book?”
Mrs. Miller nodded.
“That book was real.”
Leonardo heard us.
He approached.
“What book?”
Mrs. Miller pointed.
“Elena’s prayer book.”
Cassandra frowned.
“She was religious?”
“No.”
Mrs. Miller smiled faintly.
“She was practical.”
Leonardo understood.
“A hiding place.”
Mrs. Miller nodded.
Victor said:
“The book was buried with her.”
Maria shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“I took it.”
“Where is it?”
Maria looked toward the old west wing.
“In the nursery.”
Leonardo stared.
“My nursery?”
“Yes.”
“I hid it before Antonio took me.”
They walked through the mansion.
I followed with Mrs. Miller.
The nursery had not been used in years.
Dust.
Covered furniture.
A wooden rocking horse.
Maria went to a wall beside the fireplace.
She pressed a carved panel.
Nothing happened.
She frowned.
“It was here.”
Leonardo examined it.
Then pulled.
The panel opened.
Empty.
Maria’s face changed.
“No.”
Victor whispered:
“Marcus.”
Cassandra looked around.
“When was the west wing renovated?”
Victor answered:
“Twelve years ago.”
“Who supervised it?”
No one needed to answer.
Marcus.
Leonardo’s phone rang again.
This time a message.
A photograph.
The old prayer book.
Beside it sat a passport.
And a train ticket.
Cassandra whispered:
“He has it.”
Another message arrived.
MIDNIGHT.
OLD RIVER TERMINAL.
COME WITH CASSANDRA.
NO SECURITY.
Leonardo looked at the clock.
11:22 p.m.
Victor stood.
“You cannot go.”
Leonardo looked at him.
“I am going.”
Victor shook his head.
“He will kill you.”
Leonardo buttoned his jacket.
“He has had eighteen years.”
Cassandra stepped forward.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“It says my name.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“I am Elena’s daughter.”
“This belongs to me too.”
Leonardo stared at her.
Their marriage had just been shattered by lies.
But one truth remained.
They were both trapped inside the same family secret.
He nodded once.
“Fine.”
Maria grabbed his arm.
“Leo.”
He looked at her.
“If Marcus has that book, he has the names.”
“What names?”
Maria whispered:
“The people Elena planned to expose.”
Leonardo frowned.
“I already have the ledger.”
“That ledger was only payments.”
Maria shook her head.
“The prayer book contained confessions.”
“Recorded by whom?”
“Elena.”
“She made people write them.”
Victor stared.
“Why?”
Maria answered:
“Insurance.”
Mrs. Miller added:
“Against Antonio.”
Leonardo looked at Cassandra.
“So Marcus has proof against men still alive.”
Victor nodded.
“And powerful.”
Cassandra whispered:
“He could trade it.”
“Or destroy it.”
Leonardo checked his watch.
11:28.
He turned to me.
“Anna.”
I froze.
“Yes?”
“Stay with my mother and Mrs. Miller.”
Maria stared at him.
He had said it again.
My mother.
This time deliberately.
Leonardo looked at Maria.
“I will come back.”
She touched his face.
“I waited twenty-eight years.”
Her voice broke.
“Do not make me wait one more night.”
Leonardo covered her hand with his.
“I won’t.”
Then he and Cassandra left.
At 11:41 p.m., Mrs. Miller stood suddenly.
“What?”
I asked.
She looked at the portrait.
Then at Maria.
“Marcus never cared about the prayer book.”
Maria frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Mrs. Miller’s face turned pale.
“He wants Cassandra at the river terminal.”
“Why?”
Mrs. Miller whispered:
“Because that is where Elena planned to escape the night she died.”
Maria stood.
“No.”
Mrs. Miller grabbed my arm.
“Call Leonardo.”
I did.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Maria whispered:
“Marcus isn’t trying to finish the past.”
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