Chapter 3 - THE EMPTY OFFICE
Dante reached Helena’s office in less than ninety seconds.
Isabela followed despite his order to stay with Sofia.
Two guards were already in the corridor.
The office door stood open.
Dante stopped.
He had personally locked it after Helena’s funeral.
Only three people were supposed to possess keys.
Dante.
His attorney.
And Helena’s younger brother, Rafael.
Rafael had been living in Switzerland for over a year.
“Who entered?”
Dante asked.
The head of security, Marco Ruiz, looked uneasy.
“No visual.”
“That’s impossible.”
“The camera dropped for forty-one seconds.”
Dante looked at him.
“Cameras don’t drop for forty-one seconds by themselves.”
“No, sir.”
Isabela stayed several steps behind them.
She watched Marco.
Mid-forties.
Broad shoulders.
Military posture.
The kind of man who seemed permanently alert.
Yet when Dante mentioned the failed camera, Marco looked angry rather than surprised.
That detail lodged in Isabela’s mind.
Dante entered the office.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
Helena’s books still lined the shelves.
Her fountain pen rested in a crystal holder.
A framed photograph showed Sofia as a baby asleep on her mother’s chest.
Dante stared at it for half a second too long.
Then Isabela noticed the desk drawer.
Open.
“Was that like that before?”
Dante crossed the room.
“No.”
The drawer was empty.
Marco frowned.
“What was inside?”
Dante hesitated.
“My wife’s journals.”
Isabela’s pulse jumped.
“All of them?”
Dante opened the lower drawer.
Empty.
“Yes.”
Someone had risked entering the most secure wing of the Montenegro mansion to steal Helena’s journals.
Someone knew they were there.
“Check every exit,” Dante ordered.
“Nobody leaves the property.”
Marco nodded.
Then Isabela saw a small white fiber near the desk.
She bent.
It was caught beneath the corner.
A thread.
Medical gauze.
Or something similar.
Before she could touch it, Marco’s shoe moved dangerously close.
Isabela covered the fiber with her hand.
“I dropped my earring.”
Marco stepped away.
She slipped the thread into her pocket.
Dante noticed.
He said nothing.
Back upstairs, Sofia had fallen asleep.
Truly asleep this time.
Her breathing was calm.
Isabela sat beside her until dawn.
Dante remained near the window.
Neither spoke much.
At five forty in the morning, Dante’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then ended the call.
“The blue liquid isn’t a vitamin.”
Isabela stood.
“What is it?”
“A sedative.”
Her stomach sank.
“How strong?”
“Strong enough that repeated doses could suppress appetite, cause confusion, and make a child unusually lethargic.”
Dante’s voice went colder with each word.
“Especially if combined with another medication.”
Isabela looked at Sofia.
For four days everyone had believed the child was refusing food.
What if she had been too nauseated or sedated to eat?
“What else did they find?”
“Nothing lethal in that single sample.”
“That doesn’t mean the other doses were the same.”
“No.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
It was clearly taking every ounce of control he possessed not to storm through the house and tear answers from everyone.
Isabela took Helena’s letter from her pocket.
“The blue room.”
“We need to know what Sofia meant.”
“When she wakes.”
Dante nodded reluctantly.
By eight, the household gathered for breakfast.
Dante acted normal.
It was almost frightening how easily he could do it.
He sat at the head of the long table.
Reviewed emails.
Drank coffee.
Asked Marco about the perimeter breach as though it were routine.
Nurse Evelyn entered at eight fifteen.
Isabela watched Dante’s hand tighten around his cup.
Evelyn smiled at Sofia’s empty chair.
“How is our little patient?”
“Better,” Isabela replied.
“I’ll see her after breakfast.”
Dante didn’t look at the nurse.
“Of course.”
A woman entered from the opposite doorway.
Tall.
Elegant.
Dark red dress.
Perfectly arranged black hair.
Isabela recognized her from family photographs.
Camilla Montenegro.
Dante’s older sister.
She lived in the guest estate but spent most mornings at the main house.
Camilla kissed Dante’s cheek.
Then looked at Isabela.
“So this is the miracle nanny.”
Her tone made the word miracle sound insulting.
Dante continued reading his phone.
“Isabela.”
“I know her name.”
Camilla sat.
“I also know Sofia suddenly speaks after this woman appears.”
Isabela felt the accusation beneath the sentence.
Camilla buttered a piece of toast.
“Convenient.”
Dante lifted his eyes.
“Enough.”
Camilla smiled.
“I’m simply saying we should be careful.”
“She calmed Sofia when no one else could.”
“Yes.”
Camilla looked directly at Isabela.
“With a song Helena apparently knew.”
The room changed.
Isabela slowly set down her cup.
“How do you know that?”
Camilla blinked.
“Know what?”
“That Helena knew the song.”
A pause.
Too small for most people to notice.
But Dante noticed.
Isabela noticed.
Camilla laughed.
“You said it last night.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Silence.
Dante placed his phone on the table.
“Camilla.”
His sister’s smile faded.
Before she could answer, Sofia appeared in the doorway.
Barefoot.
Holding something against her chest.
A leather journal.
Dante stood.
“Where did you find that?”
Sofia walked directly to Isabela.
“Mommy gave it to me.”
Dante stared.
“The journals were stolen last night.”
Sofia shook her head.
“Not this one.”
She handed it to Isabela.
The cover was blue.
A small silver H had been embossed in one corner.
Helena.
Isabela opened the first page.
Most of it was blank.
But one sentence had been written across the center.
If Sofia shows this to Isabela, it means I was right to be afraid.
Beneath it was an address.
Dante recognized it immediately.
His face changed.
“No.”
“What?”
Isabela asked.
Dante stared at the address.
“That house burned down nine years ago.”
Isabela’s pulse stopped.
“Whose house?”
May you like
He looked at her.
“Your mother’s.”
