Chương 5 - The Child in the House
Dante called the nanny himself.
“Rosa.
Where is Leo?”
“In the nursery.”
“Lock the door.”
A pause.
“Dante?”
“Take him into the bathroom.
Lock that door too.
Do it now.”
Alina watched his face.
He wasn’t performing fear.
His hand had gone white around the phone.
He called another guard, gave three short instructions, then turned to Nico.
“Drive.”
Alina caught his sleeve.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to leave me here after bringing this to my door.”
Dante looked at the open drawers.
The empty tin.
The letter in her hand.
“Fine.”
They reached his house twelve minutes later.
It sat behind iron gates, beautiful enough to make Alina think of every winter her mother had heated their apartment with the oven door open.
Vittorio waited in the entry hall.
“What happened?” he asked smoothly.
Dante walked past him.
Rosa opened the nursery only after hearing his voice.
Leo was red-eyed but safe.
Dante lifted him.
The baby clung to his shirt.
Alina stood at the threshold.
On a chair beside the crib lay a folded cream sweater.
Her mother had owned one just like it.
A familiar scent reached her.
Orange blossom soap.
Rosa saw her looking.
“That belonged to Leo’s mother.”
Alina touched the sleeve.
The cuff had been repaired with pale green thread.
Three uneven stitches.
A fourth pulled too tight.
Her mother’s work.
“Who was his mother?”
Rosa hesitated.
Dante answered behind her.
“Sofia.”
Alina turned.
He stared at the sweater as though seeing it for the first time.
“Sofia Marino.
She died shortly after Leo was born.”
Alina couldn’t feel her hands.
“How old?”
“Twenty-three.”
Her sister’s birth certificate was in her pocket.
Twenty-three.
Rosa took a framed photograph from the dresser and gave it to her.
A young woman sat on a porch swing, laughing at someone outside the frame.
Alina saw her mother’s mouth.
Her own brown eyes.
Then she looked down.
Around Sofia’s wrist was a thin red bracelet.
Alina wore its matching half beneath her sleeve.
Her mother had told her it belonged to someone they had lost.
From the hallway, Vittorio spoke.
“Dante.
May you like
Be careful.
That woman was never who you thought she was.”
