Chapter 4 - SOPHIE ENTERS THE MORETTI HOUSESophie Donovan arrived at the Moretti estate carrying a purple backpack and absolutely no fear.
Claire had spent the entire drive preparing her.
Stay close.
Don’t wander.
Don’t touch anything.
Don’t ask Adrian what he does for a living.
Especially don’t repeat what Mrs. Hanley had said after Googling him.
Sophie listened solemnly.
Then the moment Adrian opened the front door, she looked up at him and asked:
“Are you really in the mafia?”
Claire wanted the marble floor to swallow her.
“Sophie.”
“What? You said not to repeat Mrs. Hanley. I found that myself.”
Adrian stared at the child.
Sophie stared back.
Then, incredibly, Adrian said, “No.”
Sophie tilted her head.
“That sounded suspicious.”
Behind him, Noah burst out laughing.
Caleb followed.
Miles smiled.
Within fifteen minutes the four children were racing through the foyer.
Claire stood beside Adrian.
“I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“She asked if you’re a criminal.”
“I’ve been asked worse before breakfast.”
Claire studied him.
“You’re surprisingly patient with children who aren’t yours.”
His expression changed.
“I like children.”
“That sounds like something a kidnapper says.”
Adrian looked at her.
Claire covered her mouth.
“I’m tired.”
His mouth twitched.
“Clearly.”
Having Sophie inside the mansion changed everything.
The triplets stopped performing for Claire and focused their attention on their new target.
But Sophie had grown up with Claire.
She was harder to intimidate.
When Noah placed a plastic spider in her cereal, Sophie ate around it.
When Caleb told her the mansion had a ghost, Sophie asked where and announced she wanted to meet it.
When Miles quietly informed her that the attic contained a skeleton, Sophie replied, “Cool.”
By lunchtime Noah was frustrated.
“She’s weird.”
Claire smiled.
“She gets that from me.”
But Sophie also revealed things about the boys that Claire had not noticed.
At two o’clock, while they built a fortress from couch cushions, Sophie asked casually:
“Where’s your mom?”
The room went silent.
Claire looked up from the table.
“Sophie.”
“What?”
Noah stared at the blanket roof.
“She’s gone.”
“Oh.”
Sophie understood what “gone” usually meant.
“My dad’s dead.”
Miles looked at her.
Sophie added, “It’s okay to say dead. Mom used to hate it, but I don’t.”
Claire’s throat tightened.
Caleb asked, “Do you remember him?”
“Mostly.”
“What did he smell like?”
Sophie thought.
“Coffee.”
Miles whispered, “Our mom smelled like oranges.”
Adrian stood unseen in the hallway.
Claire noticed him.
He didn’t enter.
Sophie asked, “Did she die?”
Noah’s body stiffened.
“We don’t know.”
Sophie frowned.
“How can you not know?”
Claire started to intervene.
Adrian did first.
“Lunch is ready.”
The children turned.
His face revealed nothing.
But Claire saw his hand clenched at his side.
Later, Adrian found Claire in the kitchen.
“You should explain boundaries to your daughter.”
Claire closed the refrigerator.
“She asked a normal question.”
“It isn’t a normal subject.”
“To them it is.”
“You know nothing about what happened.”
“Then tell me.”
“No.”
Claire leaned against the counter.
“You brought an investigator into my life, Adrian. You know my husband’s name, my financial records, where I lived five years ago, probably what brand of toothpaste I buy.”
“Crest.”
She stared.
He paused.
“That was a joke.”
“You make jokes?”
“Rarely.”
“Good. Don’t practice on me.”
He almost smiled again.
Then his face became serious.
“Elena disappeared four years ago.”
Claire said nothing.
“Our sons were two.”
“What happened?”
“There was a fire at a property we owned near Lake George. Elena was supposed to be there.”
“Supposed to?”
“Her car was found outside.”
Claire felt a chill.
“No body?”
“No.”
“Then why tell the boys she’s gone?”
“What should I tell them?”
“That you don’t know.”
“I did. For two years.”
“And?”
“They waited.”
His voice cracked almost invisibly.
“Every car in the driveway. Every woman at the door. Every telephone call. Noah began sleeping beside the window.”
Claire looked away.
“They needed a life that didn’t revolve around waiting.”
“So you told them she died?”
“No.”
“What did you say?”
“That sometimes people leave and cannot come back.”
Claire understood why Noah hated adults leaving.
“Do you think she’s alive?”
Adrian’s eyes hardened.
“I don’t know.”
That afternoon, Claire found Miles alone beneath the staircase.
He was drawing.
Not superheroes.
Not dinosaurs.
A woman.
Brown hair.
Orange dress.
Three little boys holding her hands.
Claire sat beside him.
“Your mom?”
Miles nodded.
“You remember her?”
“Sometimes.”
He pointed to the page.
“She sang.”
“What did she sing?”
Miles hummed three notes.
Then stopped.
“Dad hates it.”
“Why?”
“He gets sad.”
Children noticed everything.
Claire looked at the drawing.
“Can I tell you something?”
Miles nodded.
“It’s okay if someone else feels sad when you remember your mom. You don’t have to forget her to protect your dad.”
Miles considered that.
“Do you remember Sophie’s dad?”
“Every day.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Then why remember?”
Claire smiled sadly.
“Because hurting sometimes is better than losing the good parts too.”
Miles leaned against her arm.
Adrian saw them from upstairs.
Claire didn’t know.
That evening something changed in him.
At dinner, he came home early.
No phone.
No business interruptions.
He ate with the children.
When Noah complained about broccoli, Adrian told him he could dislike it while still consuming three pieces.
When Caleb dropped a spoon, Adrian picked it up himself.
When Miles hummed the three notes his mother used to sing, Adrian froze.
But he didn’t tell him to stop.
Claire noticed.
So did Miles.
After dinner, Sophie and the boys constructed another blanket fortress in the living room.
Adrian stood near the fireplace watching them.
Claire joined him.
“You’re hovering.”
“I’m standing.”
“Rich people hovering.”
He glanced down at her.
“What exactly is rich people hovering?”
“Standing dramatically near fireplaces while pretending not to care.”
“I own the fireplace.”
“That makes it worse.”
A crash came from the fortress.
Then laughter.
Adrian’s expression softened.
“You were right.”
Claire looked at him.
“About?”
“The schedule.”
She gasped theatrically.
“Could you say that louder? I’d like witnesses.”
He ignored her.
“I cancelled piano tomorrow.”
“Revolutionary.”
“And Italian.”
“Careful. Civilization may collapse.”
Adrian turned toward her.
“I’m trying.”
The humor left Claire.
“I know.”
Their eyes held for one second too long.
Claire looked away first.
Then the front bell rang.
Every security guard in the room instantly reacted.
Adrian’s entire body changed.
A guard checked his radio.
“Expected?”
“No.”
Adrian moved toward the monitor.
Claire saw a woman standing outside the gates.
Mid-thirties.
Blonde hair beneath a raincoat.
No vehicle.
She held something in one hand.
A photograph.
The guard zoomed in.
Adrian went white.
Claire looked at him.
“You know her?”
He didn’t answer.
The woman lifted the photograph toward the camera.
It showed Elena Moretti.
Alive.
Claire’s heart hammered.
Across the bottom of the photograph someone had written:
SHE DIDN’T DIE IN THE FIRE.
Then the woman turned the picture over.
Three more words.
ASK YOUR BROTHER.
Adrian’s hand tightened around the edge of the security desk.
Claire remembered Noah shouting the previous night.
Uncle Luca left.
She looked at Adrian.
“Who is Luca?”
Adrian’s voice became almost inaudible.
“My younger brother.”
“And where is he?”
May you like
Adrian stared at the photograph.
“I buried him three years ago.”
Related Stories
