Chapter 7 - The Daughter He Thought Was DeadSix Years Ago, Dante Buried A Coffin That Wasn't Hers

Dante's daughter had supposedly died six years ago.

That was the story.

A boating accident.

A body recovered from the river.

Private funeral.

No photographs.

No public announcement.

Dante had never spoken about her.

Now he was staring at me like someone had ripped open an old grave.

"Lily is alive."

His words were barely audible.

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"Then why did you say she's been with me?"

"I said I thought she was."

"You need to start making sense."

He sat down.

Marco stood by the door.

Dante rubbed his face.

"When Sofia died, Lily was three."

I stared.

"Three?"

"Yes."

"You told me she died six years ago."

"That's what I was told."

"By who?"

"My brother."

"Salvatore?"

Dante nodded.

"My uncle."

I stared at him.

"Which one?"

"The one who's supposedly dead."

The room fell silent.

Dante opened a drawer.

Inside was a photograph.

A little girl with dark curls stood beside Sofia.

Lily.

But the photo had been damaged.

Someone had burned away half of the image.

Dante handed it to me.

"That photograph was taken three days before Sofia died."

I looked closer.

Lily was holding something.

A honey jar.

My stomach dropped.

"What?"

"The label."

The logo was my father's bee.

Dante whispered, "Sofia had been meeting your father."

"About the ledger."

"Yes."

I thought of the jars in my barn.

The coded seals.

The photograph.

My father's letter.

Everything was suddenly connected.

Then Marco's phone rang.

He listened.

"Where?"

He hung up.

"The hospital."

Dante stood.

"What?"

"The man from the cemetery."

My heart stopped.

"He's alive?"

"No."

Marco looked at me.

"Someone else is there."

Dante's eyes narrowed.

"Who?"

"Your sister."

He froze.

"I don't have a sister."

Marco shook his head.

"That's the problem."

We reached the hospital after midnight.

Dante walked through the emergency entrance like he owned the building.

People moved aside.

A nurse pointed toward room 417.

Dante entered.

A woman stood by the window.

Dark hair.

Hazel eyes.

Scar above her eyebrow.

The same woman from the old photograph.

Sofia.

Except she was older.

Alive.

I forgot how to breathe.

Dante couldn't move.

Sofia turned.

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Dante."

He whispered her name.

Then he raised his gun.

Sofia didn't flinch.

"I deserved that."

His hand shook.

"You're dead."

"I know."

"Who killed you?"

Sofia looked at me.

"Your father saved me."

I stepped forward.

"What?"

She looked at me.

"You are not who you think you are."

Dante's eyes closed.

"Enough."

Sofia shook her head.

"No."

She approached me.

"I need to tell her."

Dante blocked her.

"Not here."

Sofia whispered.

"They'll come."

A light flickered above us.

Then the hospital went dark.

Emergency alarms began.

Marco drew his weapon.

Dante grabbed me.

"We're leaving."

Footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Several.

Fast.

Sofia shouted.

"Under the bed!"

"What?"

She pointed.

"There's a tunnel."

I stared at her.

"You're joking."

She wasn't.

We crawled beneath the hospital bed.

A panel opened.

Dante looked at her.

"How long have you been hiding here?"

Sofia smiled sadly.

"Since the night you buried me."

He stared.

"Who was in the coffin?"

She looked at me.

"My twin."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

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Sofia whispered.

"Your mother."