Chapter 4 - THE DEAD MAN’S DEBTDaniel Reese’s body was found fifty yards beyond the eastern wall.
Claire was not allowed near it.
She did not argue.
Instead, she stayed with Leo.
The boy had stopped speaking.
He sat on the edge of his bed wrapped in a blanket while Nico and Matteo pressed against either side of him.
Dominic stood near the window giving orders into his phone.
Police.
Attorneys.
Private security.
Every word sounded controlled.
Claire knew better.
His hand was shaking.
Barely.
But shaking.
When he finished the call, he looked at Leo.
“You need to tell me exactly what happened.”
Leo stared down.
Claire touched Dominic’s sleeve.
“Not like that.”
His jaw tightened.
“My son was nearly abducted.”
“And interrogating him while he’s terrified won’t help.”
Dominic looked ready to argue.
Then Leo whispered, “I wasn’t abducted.”
Both adults turned.
“I went with him.”
Dominic became dangerously quiet.
“What?”
“He said he knew Mom.”
Claire crouched.
“What exactly did he say?”
Leo swallowed.
“He said Mom sent him.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“He said she didn’t die.”
Matteo gasped.
Nico’s face went white.
Dominic stepped forward.
“That was a lie.”
“How do you know?” Leo shouted.
“Because I buried her!”
“You never let us see her!”
Claire felt the room fracture.
Leo jumped from the bed.
“You said she was too sick! Then you said she died! We didn’t see anything!”
“Leo—”
“What if you lied?”
Dominic froze.
The boy’s face crumpled.
“You lie about everything.”
Then he ran into the bathroom and locked the door.
Dominic stared after him.
Claire said quietly, “This is why they drive people away.”
He turned.
“Not now.”
“Yes. Now.”
“My son was targeted.”
“And whoever targeted him knew exactly which wound to touch.”
Dominic’s expression shifted.
Claire continued.
“They didn’t use money. They didn’t threaten him. They offered him his mother.”
Nico started crying silently.
Matteo crawled beneath the covers.
Dominic suddenly looked less like a billionaire crime patriarch and more like a widowed father who had made one terrible mistake and spent two years watching it multiply.
Claire sat beside the younger boys.
“Did someone ever tell you before tonight that your mom might be alive?”
Nico shook his head.
Matteo hesitated.
Claire noticed.
“Matteo?”
He bit his lip.
“There are letters.”
Dominic snapped around.
“What letters?”
Matteo immediately shrank.
Claire gave Dominic a sharp look.
He forced his voice lower.
“What letters, buddy?”
Matteo slipped from the bed.
He crawled beneath it and pulled out a wooden toy chest.
From beneath the lining came four envelopes.
Dominic grabbed one.
The handwriting on the front said:
MY BEAUTIFUL BOYS.
He tore it open.
Claire watched his face.
“What does it say?”
Dominic passed it to her.
My beautiful boys,
I know Daddy says I am gone, but sometimes grown-ups hide things because they are afraid. Never stop looking for me. One day someone will come who knows the truth.
Love always,
Mom.
Claire’s skin prickled.
“Is that her handwriting?”
“No.”
Dominic answered immediately.
“You’re sure?”
“I have hundreds of her letters.”
He opened another.
Same message.
Different phrasing.
All designed to convince grieving children that their mother lived.
“How long have you had these?” Claire asked.
Nico answered.
“Since after the funeral.”
“How did you get them?”
“They appear.”
“Where?”
“Pillows. backpacks. toy room.”
Dominic looked physically sick.
Someone had manipulated his children inside his own secured home for almost two years.
Claire suddenly understood why the boys’ behavior had worsened.
They were not simply grieving.
Someone had been feeding that grief.
Keeping it alive.
Turning it against their father.
Dominic called his head of security, Marco Bellini.
Marco arrived minutes later.
He was in his early fifties, thick-built, gray at the temples, and had apparently served the Moretti family for three decades.
Dominic handed him a letter.
Marco’s face darkened.
“These were inside my house.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That is not an acceptable sentence.”
“Sir—”
“You searched every nanny. Every tutor. Every chef. Every contractor.”
“Yes.”
“And yet someone has had private access to my sons for two years.”
Marco looked genuinely shaken.
“We’ll find them.”
Claire watched him.
Something bothered her.
“You said Reese was dead when you found him?”
Marco turned.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Gunshot.”
“Where was the weapon?”
“Beside him.”
“Suicide?”
“Possibly.”
Claire shook her head.
“After chasing an eight-year-old through a hedge maze?”
Marco’s eyes hardened.
“With respect, Mrs. Donovan, this isn’t your concern.”
Dominic spoke before she could.
“It is now.”
Marco looked surprised.
Dominic took the letters.
“Run fingerprints. Paper. ink. everything.”
“Yes, sir.”
After he left, Claire said, “He doesn’t like me.”
“Marco doesn’t like anyone.”
“That’s comforting.”
Dominic looked exhausted.
“You should take Emma and leave.”
Claire’s chest tightened at her daughter’s name.
“You had someone investigate her too?”
“I investigate everyone who enters my home.”
“Which is working wonderfully.”
He almost deserved that.
His eyes flashed.
Then the anger disappeared.
“I’m serious, Claire.”
“So am I.”
“This became dangerous.”
“It was dangerous before I arrived.”
“You didn’t know.”
“Neither did your sons.”
Dominic looked toward the closed bathroom door.
Claire lowered her voice.
“Somebody killed or tried to use the man responsible for Michael’s crash. Somebody knows about my husband. Somebody knows your sons’ deepest secret. If I leave now, I don’t become safe. I become isolated.”
“You think staying inside a Moretti estate makes you safer?”
“At the moment? Strangely, yes.”
Dominic stared at her.
“You are either brave or clinically irrational.”
“My landlord uses less flattering terminology.”
He gave a tired laugh.
Then his face became serious.
“If you stay, Emma comes here.”
Claire hesitated.
“My daughter does not enter your world.”
“Your daughter entered it the moment someone put Michael’s photograph in your wallet.”
She hated that he was right.
The next afternoon Emma arrived under guard.
She stepped from the car wearing pink sneakers and carrying a purple backpack.
Her eyes widened at the mansion.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“You said ridiculous.”
“I did.”
“You undersold it.”
Behind Claire, Nico whispered, “I like her.”
Leo said, “You don’t know her.”
Emma walked directly toward them.
“You’re the evil triplets?”
Claire nearly choked.
Matteo’s eyes widened.
“Who told you?”
“My mom said you were challenging.”
Emma shrugged.
“That means evil when adults are being polite.”
Nico burst out laughing.
Even Leo smiled.
Within twenty minutes, the four children were sitting on the rug constructing a city from wooden blocks.
Claire watched from the doorway.
Dominic joined her.
“She isn’t afraid of them.”
“She has cousins.”
“Apparently terrifying cousins.”
“They’re from New Jersey.”
Dominic nodded as if that explained everything.
For the first time since Claire arrived, the mansion felt almost peaceful.
That peace lasted thirty-seven minutes.
A security guard rushed in.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Dominic turned.
“We have the laboratory report.”
“On the letters?”
“Yes.”
The guard looked at Claire, then back to Dominic.
“The fingerprints belong to someone in our employee database.”
“Who?”
The guard hesitated.
“Marco Bellini.”
Claire’s stomach dropped.
Dominic became motionless.
Then a second guard appeared at the far doorway.
“Sir, Marco is gone.”
Dominic’s gaze sharpened.
“Find him.”
“He took a vehicle twelve minutes ago.”
Dominic grabbed his phone.
Then Emma screamed.
Everyone turned.
The children were still on the carpet.
But Matteo held something in his hand.
A small black device taped beneath one of the wooden blocks.
Nico leaned closer.
“What is it?”
Dominic crossed the room in three strides.
He snatched it away.
Claire saw his face change.
“What?”
Dominic looked at the tiny blinking light.
“A microphone.”
Nobody moved.
He flipped the block.
May you like
Written across the bottom in black marker were four words.
YOU WERE NEVER SAFE HERE.
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