Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
Isabela stared at the photograph until the edges blurred.
Her mother had gray in her hair.
More lines around her eyes.
But it was Marta.
No question.
The same small scar above her left eyebrow.
The same gold cross at her throat.
Isabela had bought that cross for her mother’s forty-second birthday.
Nine years ago.
“She's alive.”
Her voice barely existed.
Dante took the photograph.
“We don’t know when this was taken.”
“The date is printed here.”
“That can be altered.”
“That is my mother.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t.”
He lowered his voice.
“I’m saying whoever sent this wants you emotional.”
Isabela turned on him.
“My mother has been dead for nine years.”
“No.”
She shook the photograph in his face.
“Apparently she hasn’t.”
Dante said nothing.
The anger vanished from Isabela as quickly as it came.
Her knees weakened.
She sat.
“What kind of mother lets her daughter believe she burned alive?”
Dante leaned against the wall.
“Maybe one who thought the alternative was watching her daughter die.”
Isabela looked at him.
He was thinking about Helena.
She could see it.
Two women.
Two secrets.
Two daughters left behind.
By afternoon, Dante had moved Isabela into the Montenegro mansion permanently.
Not as an employee.
As someone under protection.
She argued.
He ignored her.
“You received a threat.”
“I received a photograph.”
“With a threat written on it.”
“I can read.”
“Then act like it.”
“You don’t get to order my entire life.”
“I can when your life becomes connected to Sofia’s.”
The sentence silenced both of them.
Sofia was the reason Isabela stayed.
That evening, Isabela sat on the floor beside the little girl’s bed.
Sofia ate three spoonfuls of soup.
Then four.
Dante watched from the doorway.
It was the most she had eaten in days.
When Isabela sang, Sofia finished nearly half the bowl.
Dante looked away.
Something about the sight hurt him.
Later, when Sofia slept, Isabela found him in Helena’s office.
He had poured whiskey but hadn’t touched it.
“Did she sing to Sofia?”
Dante knew what Isabela meant.
“Helena?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes.”
“The same song?”
Dante nodded.
“Near the end.”
“What does that mean?”
He stared at the glass.
“For months before Helena died, she became afraid.”
“Of what?”
“She never said.”
“Did you ask?”
“Every day.”
“And?”
“She told me I was safer not knowing.”
Isabela almost laughed bitterly.
“That sounds familiar.”
Dante finally drank.
“I thought she was depressed.”
“Paranoid.”
“Grieving her father.”
He looked toward Helena’s photograph.
“So I did exactly what a husband should never do.”
“I trusted the doctors more than I trusted her.”
Isabela said nothing.
Dante’s guilt already punished him enough.
“What was Dr. Vale’s role?”
“He became Helena’s physician six months before she died.”
“The same Dr. Vale who supposedly supplied Sofia’s blue medicine.”
“Yes.”
“Why is he still treating your family?”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Because I trusted him.”
A soft sound came from the hallway.
Both turned.
Camilla stood in the doorway.
Dante’s sister carried a folder.
“What are you two whispering about?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
Camilla smiled coldly.
“Everything in this house concerns me.”
She placed the folder on Dante’s desk.
“Your board meeting was moved to Thursday.”
Then she glanced at Isabela.
“Your nanny has become very comfortable.”
“She has a name.”
“I’m aware.”
Camilla turned toward the door.
Isabela noticed the perfume.
Jasmine.
The same scent in Helena’s closet.
“Camilla.”
The woman paused.
“Did you know my mother?”
Camilla’s shoulders became rigid.
Dante watched her.
Camilla slowly turned.
“No.”
Isabela held up the photograph.
“Never seen her?”
Camilla looked at Marta.
Something flickered across her face.
Recognition.
Then vanished.
“No.”
Dante stood.
“You lied at breakfast.”
Camilla’s eyes moved to him.
“About what?”
“The song.”
“You knew Helena knew it.”
“I guessed.”
“And now you’re lying again.”
Camilla’s expression hardened.
“Careful, Dante.”
“No.”
He walked closer.
“You be careful.”
The siblings stared at each other.
For the first time, Isabela understood that beneath the wealth and polished family photographs existed old fractures nobody discussed.
Camilla picked up her handbag.
“Helena filled your head with suspicion while she was alive.”
“Apparently she’s still doing it while dead.”
She left.
Isabela waited until her footsteps faded.
“She knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“You saw it.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to confront her?”
“No.”
Isabela looked surprised.
Dante sat.
“You told me to think instead of react.”
A faint smile almost touched her mouth.
“You do listen.”
“Occasionally.”
The next morning, Sofia woke screaming.
Isabela ran into the room.
The child was sitting upright.
Her eyes fixed on the window.
“Mommy!”
Isabela climbed onto the bed.
“It’s okay.”
“No.”
Sofia pointed.
“Mommy was there.”
Dante entered.
“What happened?”
“She says she saw Helena.”
Dante’s face tightened.
He checked the window.
Nothing.
Then Isabela noticed an object on the sill.
A small paper bird.
Folded from blue stationery.
She opened it.
Inside were seven handwritten numbers.
Dante recognized them.
“A storage unit.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s the format used by a private facility Helena used before we married.”
They drove there two hours later.
The unit had been prepaid for ten years.
Inside were boxes of children’s clothing.
Medical files.
Old photographs.
And a locked trunk.
Dante broke the lock.
Inside sat dozens of patient records from Valera Medical.
Children.
All younger than six.
Isabela opened the first file.
Several pages had been marked with the same handwritten notation.
BLUE PROTOCOL.
Her hands went cold.
Then Dante found another folder.
SOFIA MONTENEGRO.
It had been created before Sofia was born.
Isabela looked at him.
“How is that possible?”
Dante opened the file.
The first page contained Helena’s prenatal records.
The second contained genetic testing.
The third had a list of payments.
At the bottom was a signature.
Dr. Adrian Vale.
Beside it was another signature.
Camilla Montenegro.
Dante went completely still.
His sister had signed medical authorization documents for Sofia months before Sofia was even born.
Isabela turned the page.
One sentence had been underlined by Helena.
SUBJECT ELIGIBLE FOR PHASE TWO UPON MATERNAL LOSS.
Dante whispered the words.
“Maternal loss.”
Before either could process what that meant, a heavy metallic sound came from outside the unit.
The security shutter began descending.
Dante ran toward it.
Too late.
It slammed shut.
May you like
The overhead lights went out.
Then smoke began pouring beneath the door.
