Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPHAdrian doubled security overnight.
Nobody told the triplets why.
Nobody needed to.
Children raised inside guarded mansions learned to recognize fear by the number of men carrying radios.
The next morning, Luca refused breakfast.
Nico picked fights with everyone.
Matteo followed Emma from room to room without admitting he was doing it.
Their old pattern had returned.
Fear became chaos.
At eleven, Nico threw a glass.
It shattered against the wall.
Emma looked at him.
“Clean it.”
“No.”
“Nico.”
“I said no!”
He kicked a chair.
Rosa flinched.
Emma didn’t.
“You can be frightened without making everyone else frightened too.”
“I’m not frightened!”
“Fine. Then you can clean angrily.”
His face turned red.
“You’re not my mom!”
The kitchen went silent.
Nico froze as soon as the words left his mouth.
Emma crouched until they were eye level.
“No.”
Her voice stayed calm.
“I’m not.”
Something uncertain moved across his face.
“And I’m never going to pretend I am.”
His eyes filled.
Emma continued gently.
“You had a mother. You loved her. Nobody gets to replace her.”
Nico looked down.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because you’re still allowed to have people who care about you.”
He whispered, “People leave.”
“Sometimes.”
“You will.”
“Maybe one day.”
His jaw trembled.
“But today?”
He looked at her.
“I’m here.”
Nico cleaned the glass.
Later, Matteo led Emma upstairs.
“I want to show you something.”
He brought her into an unused sitting room.
A grand piano sat beneath white sheets.
Photographs lined the walls.
One showed Adrian younger, actually smiling.
Beside him stood a dark-haired woman with laughing eyes.
Isabella.
Three toddler boys sat around them on a picnic blanket.
Emma stepped closer.
“She was beautiful.”
“She sang badly,” Matteo said.
Emma smiled.
“Did she?”
“Dad said she sang like a sick cat.”
“Your dad said that?”
“Before she died.”
Matteo stared at the photograph.
“He stopped making jokes after.”
Emma’s chest hurt.
“People can forget how.”
“Can they remember?”
“I think so.”
Matteo considered this.
Then he pointed to another photograph.
A man standing beside Adrian.
Same dark hair.
Same eyes.
But sharper.
“Who’s that?”
“Uncle Victor.”
Emma remembered the name.
Victor DeLuca.
Adrian’s younger half brother.
He lived mostly in Europe, according to Rosa.
“When was he here last?”
“Two weeks ago.”
Emma’s attention sharpened.
“Before I came?”
Matteo nodded.
“He fought with Dad.”
“About what?”
“I wasn’t listening.”
Emma gave him a look.
“Okay,” he admitted. “I was listening.”
“What did they say?”
“Dad said, ‘My sons will never inherit that life.’ Uncle Victor said Dad was destroying the family.”
Cold moved through Emma.
“What else?”
“Dad told him to leave.”
A voice came from the doorway.
“Matteo.”
They turned.
Adrian stood there.
His face was unreadable.
Matteo immediately looked guilty.
“I was showing Emma Mom.”
Adrian’s eyes flicked toward the photograph.
For a moment grief stripped years from him.
“Go find your brothers.”
When Matteo left, Adrian walked inside.
“You’re questioning my children about Victor.”
“I asked who was in a photograph.”
“And?”
“And Matteo volunteered the rest.”
Adrian touched the frame.
“My brother and I disagree about many things.”
“Does one of those disagreements include shooting at children?”
His hand stopped.
“You think Victor did it.”
“I don’t know Victor.”
“Then don’t make accusations.”
“I’m not. I’m asking whether he benefits if something happens to you.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Financially? No.”
“Power?”
Silence.
Emma got her answer.
“Adrian.”
“You should concentrate on the boys.”
“The boys are exactly why I’m asking.”
He stepped closer.
“This is not a world you understand.”
Emma felt anger rise.
“Stop saying that like it’s some mystical kingdom. Dangerous men are still men. Families still lie. Money still makes people greedy.”
His mouth tightened.
“You think because you survived hardship you understand this?”
“No. I think hardship taught me people with expensive suits can be just as stupid as everybody else.”
For half a second, Adrian almost laughed.
Then his phone vibrated.
He checked it.
His expression darkened.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Rule five.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“I tell your sons the truth. You should try it.”
He handed her the phone.
A photograph filled the screen.
Emma entering the estate three days earlier.
Taken from outside the gates.
Beneath it was a message.
THE NEXT WOMAN WHO TRIES TO SAVE YOUR FAMILY DIES TOO.
Emma stopped breathing.
“Isabella?”
Adrian took the phone back.
“The police said her crash was an accident.”
“But you don’t believe that anymore.”
“No.”
The room seemed colder.
“Why?”
“Because nobody outside my immediate family knew which pediatrician she used that day.”
Emma stared.
“And someone knew her route.”
“Yes.”
“Victor?”
“I have spent five years refusing to believe it.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s my brother.”
Emma looked at Isabella’s photograph.
“Being family doesn’t make someone safe.”
Adrian’s expression suggested he knew that better than most.
That evening the triplets demanded pizza.
Emma agreed on one condition.
They made it themselves.
While dough flew around the kitchen, Luca looked toward Emma’s bandaged arm.
“Does it hurt?”
“Only when someone asks repeatedly.”
He frowned.
“You could’ve died.”
Emma stopped.
The kitchen became quieter.
Nico pretended to concentrate on cheese.
Matteo watched her openly.
“Yes,” Emma said.
Luca swallowed.
“Why’d you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Jump on me.”
“Because there was a gun.”
“But you barely knew me.”
Emma wiped flour from her hands.
“Knowing someone for three days doesn’t make them less worth protecting.”
Luca looked unconvinced.
“My dad says people always want something.”
“Your dad needs better friends.”
From behind her: “Your employment remains surprisingly secure considering how often you insult me.”
The boys turned.
Adrian stood at the island.
Emma handed him pizza dough.
“Perfect timing.”
He stared at it.
“You’re doing this deliberately.”
“Yes.”
A strange thing happened.
Luca laughed.
Then Nico.
Then Matteo.
Adrian looked at his sons.
Really looked.
And something in his face softened.
He rolled up his sleeves.
Dinner became a disaster.
One pizza was shaped like Texas.
Another collapsed when Nico tried transferring it.
Matteo put pineapple on his simply to offend Luca.
For forty minutes, nobody mentioned security, bullets, Victor or dead mothers.
They were just a family eating terrible pizza.
Emma knew she wasn’t part of that family.
She made sure not to forget it.
After dinner Adrian found her on the back terrace.
“You were right.”
She turned.
“About what?”
“They needed me.”
“Yes.”
“I thought keeping distance made them safer.”
“Children don’t understand strategic distance.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.”
Rain had stopped.
The estate lights reflected across the wet gardens.
Adrian stood beside her.
“Why are you still wearing your ring?”
Emma touched the chain beneath her collar.
“Daniel gave it to me.”
“You still love him.”
“Yes.”
The answer came easily.
Adrian nodded.
“I still love Isabella.”
“I know.”
A silence settled between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Shared.
Two people standing beside ghosts.
Then Adrian said, “My brother arrives tomorrow.”
Emma looked at him.
“You invited Victor here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To see whether he knows something he shouldn’t.”
“And if he does?”
Adrian’s face became the one newspapers feared.
“I’ll handle it.”
Emma did not like the answer.
Neither did someone standing inside the darkened library.
A phone screen glowed briefly.
A message was sent.
SHE KNOWS ABOUT THE ACCIDENT.
Three dots appeared.
May you like
Then the reply.
THEN THE NANNY GOES NEXT.
Related Stories
