Chapter 3 - The Boy With My Eyes
We returned to the mansion in less than three minutes.
Matteo’s car was still in the garage.
Valentina’s car was there too.
But both of them were gone.
One of the security monitors had been disabled.
The camera covering the east service corridor showed eleven minutes of black screen.
Eleven minutes was enough.
I entered the security room.
“Search the entire estate.”
My head of security nodded.
“We already have teams moving.”
“Underground passages too.”
His expression changed.
“Underground?”
I placed the rusted key from Elena’s box on the desk.
“We have apparently been living above secrets.”
Sophia remained beside me.
She was wrapped in a blanket now.
Her wet hair clung to her face.
I crouched beside her.
“You said there was a boy.”
She nodded.
“What is his name?”
“Nico.”
“Last name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you meet him?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“A lot.”
My throat tightened.
“Why didn’t I ever see him?”
“He wasn’t allowed in the main house.”
“Who told him that?”
“My mom.”
I fought back anger.
Not at Elena.
Not at Sophia.
At the twelve years I had lost.
“Where did he sleep?”
Sophia pointed toward the northern side of the estate.
“The old chapel.”
Nobody had used the private chapel since my mother died.
I stood immediately.
The walk there felt endless.
The chapel doors were chained.
My guards cut through them.
Inside, everything was covered in dust.
The old altar remained.
So did my mother’s candles.
But behind the sacristy, we found a mattress.
Books.
Clothes.
Canned food.
A school notebook.
Someone had been living there.
Recently.
I opened the notebook.
Mathematics.
History.
English.
Then drawings.
The mansion.
The garden.
A woman who looked like Elena.
Sophia holding a red umbrella.
And one drawing that made my hands tremble.
A man standing on the mansion balcony.
Me.
Underneath it, one word had been written.
FATHER?
I sat down.
For several seconds, I could not move.
Sophia stood in the doorway.
“He watched you sometimes.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“From the garden.”
“Why didn’t he come to me?”
“He thought you didn’t want him.”
The words hit harder than any bullet ever had.
“Who told him that?”
Sophia hesitated.
“My mom said people had told him his father tried to get rid of him.”
I closed the notebook.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
One of the guards called from behind the altar.
“Sir.”
We moved toward him.
There was a trapdoor beneath an old rug.
The rusted key fit perfectly.
Below the chapel was a stone staircase.
We went down.
The air became colder.
At the bottom was a corridor I had never seen on any blueprint.
Then we heard something.
A chair scraping.
My guards raised their weapons.
I lifted my hand.
“No shooting.”
We approached the last room.
The door was locked from the outside.
I unlocked it.
A boy stood inside.
Twelve years old.
Thin.
Barefoot.
Dark hair falling across his forehead.
He held a broken piece of wood like a weapon.
But I barely noticed it.
Because of his eyes.
My eyes.
My father’s eyes.
The Rossi curse.
He stared at me.
I stared back.
Neither of us spoke.
Then he looked at Sophia.
“You brought him.”
Sophia nodded.
The boy’s grip tightened around the wood.
I took one careful step inside.
“Nico?”
He backed away.
“Don’t.”
I stopped.
“I won’t hurt you.”
“That’s what Matteo said.”
My stomach turned.
“What did Matteo do?”
The boy’s face hardened.
“He asked where Elena hid the papers.”
“What papers?”
“I don’t know.”
“He didn’t believe me.”
I looked at bruising around the boy’s wrist.
My vision darkened.
“When was he here?”
“Yesterday.”
Before the newborn was found.
Before Sophia spoke.
Before I knew anything.
“Where is Elena?”
The boy looked away.
“I don’t know.”
“Did Matteo take her?”
“I think so.”
I slowly lowered myself to one knee.
“I need you to look at me.”
He did.
“You may be my son.”
His face did not change.
But his eyes filled with tears.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why?”
“Because people say things when they want something.”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“That’s not true.”
He pointed toward the mansion.
“Everybody here wants something.”
I almost smiled.
He was twelve.
And already understood the Rossi family perfectly.
I reached into my pocket.
I removed the bracelet.
His eyes widened.
“Where did you get that?”
“You recognize it?”
He stepped closer.
“Elena had one like that.”
“Like this?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“The other one.”
My pulse jumped.
“What did it say?”
He looked directly at me.
“Isabella Rossi.”
Footsteps suddenly thundered above us.
A guard shouted.
Then a gunshot echoed through the chapel.
Sophia screamed.
I grabbed both children and pulled them behind the stone wall.
My radio exploded with a voice.
“Sir.”
“Armed man at the north entrance.”
Another shot.
Then silence.
I looked at Nico.
He was pale.
But not surprised.
“That’s him.”
“Who?”
May you like
The boy whispered.
“The man Matteo sends when he wants someone to disappear.”
