Chapter 2 - The Language of a Forgotten Girl
Santiago returned to the Moretti estate shortly before midnight.
The mansion stood above Lake Michigan, its illuminated windows glowing through the rain.
Security guards opened the iron gates.
The fountains continued running.
The marble floors shone beneath enormous chandeliers.
Everything looked exactly as it had before he left.
But Santiago no longer saw a fortress.
He saw a beautiful prison.
Tomas Alvarez was waiting inside the study.
At forty-six, Tomas had spent nearly twenty years protecting the Moretti family.
He was broad-shouldered, disciplined, and patient.
He had survived assassination attempts, federal investigations, and three internal power struggles.
Santiago trusted him more than anyone alive.
Or he had.
"Did you find her?" Tomas asked.
"Yes."
"Is she coming back?"
"I don't know."
Tomas studied his expression.
"Something happened."
Santiago placed Ruby's background file on the desk.
"I want everything from the night my parents died."
Tomas went still.
"That case has been closed for seven years."
"Open it."
"We already know who was responsible."
"Then you won't mind proving it."
Tomas hesitated.
"Why now?"
Santiago stepped closer.
"Because my sister remembers something."
Tomas's jaw tightened.
"Sophia hasn't spoken since the attack."
"She doesn't need to speak."
Santiago walked past him.
"And if anyone tries to stop her from communicating, they answer to me."
Upstairs, Sophia's bedroom smelled faintly of lavender.
Pale blue curtains covered the windows.
Blue cushions lined the enormous bed.
Blue artwork hung above the fireplace.
Santiago suddenly remembered Ruby's final words.
She loves emerald green.
He had chosen blue because a doctor once described it as soothing.
He had never asked Sophia what she preferred.
She was sitting against her headboard when he entered.
A tray of untouched food rested on the nightstand.
Sophia had her mother's dark eyes and the same delicate bone structure.
At nineteen, she looked fragile inside the enormous room.
But when Santiago approached, her expression became guarded.
He stopped several feet away.
"Hi, Soph."
She lowered her eyes.
He sat on the carpet.
Not beside her.
Not close enough to make her uncomfortable.
Exactly where Ruby had sat.
"I went to see Ruby."
Sophia looked up immediately.
"She's okay," he said.
"She's safe."
Sophia raised her hands.
Her fingers moved quickly.
Santiago watched helplessly.
"I'm sorry."
She repeated the gestures.
"I don't understand."
Her shoulders slumped.
He felt the familiar sting of frustration.
But this time, he recognized that the failure belonged to him.
"Wait."
He pulled out his phone.
Opened a beginner's guide to American Sign Language.
Typed the phrase he wanted.
Then, awkwardly, he raised his hands.
I am sorry.
Sophia stared.
He repeated the signs.
Slowly.
Incorrectly.
She corrected his hand position.
The movement was so small that he almost missed it.
His throat tightened.
"Thank you."
Sophia signed again.
He looked at the screen.
Where Ruby?
He understood enough to answer.
"I don't know when she'll come back."
Her expression crumpled.
"But I'm going to try to make things right."
Sophia turned away.
Santiago remained on the floor.
For nearly an hour, neither moved.
Then she reached beneath her pillow and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
She tossed it onto the carpet.
He opened it.
The drawing was crude but unmistakable.
A large house.
Three black figures standing near a staircase.
One woman lying on the floor.
And beside the front door, a smaller figure holding what appeared to be a key.
Santiago stared at it.
Sophia watched his face.
He pointed to the person by the door.
"Who is that?"
Her fingers moved.
He couldn't understand.
She signed again.
Faster.
Desperately.
He searched the online dictionary.
One movement caught his attention.
Family.
Then another.
Key.
Then a third.
Lie.
Santiago felt his stomach tighten.
"Someone in the family?"
Sophia nodded.
"Someone with a key?"
Another nod.
He stared at the drawing.
"Was it Tomas?"
Sophia shook her head.
He felt a wave of relief.
Until she grabbed his wrist.
Her grip was unexpectedly strong.
She pointed to the figure.
Then she reached for his phone and typed a single word.
UNCLE.
Santiago stopped breathing.
Their father's younger brother, Carlo Moretti, had supposedly died in a boating accident five years before the home invasion.
Santiago looked at Sophia.
"Uncle Carlo?"
She shook her head violently.
He frowned.
They had no other biological uncles.
Sophia snatched the phone back.
Her fingers trembled as she typed.
NOT OUR UNCLE.
She hesitated.
Then added:
THE MAN WHO MADE US CALL HIM UNCLE.
Santiago's blood turned cold.
Only three men had been given that affectionate title while they were children.
Two had died years earlier.
The third was alive.
And he had personally selected every guard currently protecting the Moretti estate.
Santiago looked toward the bedroom door.
"Julian?"
Sophia's face went white.
Then she made the sign Ruby had taught her for a word Santiago would never forget.
Danger.
At that exact moment, someone knocked.
"Mr. Moretti?"
It was Julian Vale.
The family's longtime financial adviser.
May you like
The man Santiago had called Uncle Julian since he was six years old.
And he was standing outside Sophia's bedroom.
