Chapter 2 - The Room That Was Supposed to Stay Locked
The First Secret
Dante sent everyone away from the west wing.
Even his oldest guards.
Only three men remained outside the estate while he searched Carmela’s room.
I stayed because Sophia refused to leave.
She sat on the carpet with a coloring book, humming to herself while grown men tore apart a room that had been untouched for a year and a half.
Dante removed the books.
Checked the paintings.
Opened every drawer.
Nothing.
The hidden compartment contained only an old cassette recorder.
No label.
No batteries.
No tape inside.
Dante stared at it.
“Who knew about this room?”
I answered honestly.
“No one on staff.”
His eyes narrowed.
“How sure are you?”
“Very.”
“You’ve worked here how long?”
“Six months.”
“Six months is long enough to learn how to lie.”
The accusation hit harder than I expected.
I looked at Sophia.
Then back at him.
“I have one child and one job. I am not brave enough to play games with you.”
For a second, something almost like amusement passed through his eyes.
Then it vanished.
He took the ribbon from his pocket.
“Did Sophia have this before today?”
“No.”
“Did she ever hear Carmela’s voice?”
“Not that I know of.”
Dante nodded slowly.
Then Sophia looked up.
“Daddy says she sings.”
I froze.
Dante did too.
I stared at my daughter.
“You never told me that.”
Sophia shrugged.
“She sings the flower song.”
Dante’s face tightened.
“What flower song?”
Sophia began humming a soft melody.
Four notes.
Pause.
Three notes.
Dante suddenly looked toward the piano.
He walked over and pressed one key.
Then another.
Then three more.
His face changed.
“That was Carmela’s lullaby.”
He sat down.
The bench creaked under his weight.
His hands hovered above the keyboard.
He played the same melody Sophia had hummed.
Sophia smiled.
“That one.”
Dante stopped.
“Where did you hear it?”
“She showed me.”
“Who?”
“Pretty lady.”
Dante closed his eyes.
I watched him struggle to control his breathing.
Then he asked the strangest question of all.
“Does she look happy?”
Sophia thought about it.
“No.”
“Sad?”
“No.”
“What does she look like?”
Sophia touched her own cheek.
“She looks like you.”
Silence.
Dante stared at her.
Then the old cassette recorder clicked.
Neither of us had touched it.
A voice came through the empty machine.
Static.
Then a woman whispered one sentence.
“Dante, if you're hearing this, someone inside the estate betrayed us.”
I screamed.
Sophia clapped.
Dante went absolutely still.
The voice continued.
“Do not trust the security logs.”
Static.
Then silence.
Dante grabbed the recorder.
“There’s no tape.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He opened it.
Empty.
No tape.
No batteries.
Nothing.
Yet the message had played.
Dante immediately called one of his guards.
“Bring me every security recording from the last thirty days.”
The guard hesitated.
“Sir, there are thousands.”
“Then start tonight.”
He hung up.
Sophia suddenly wandered toward the locked wardrobe.
She pressed her hand against the door.
“She put it there.”
Dante turned.
“Put what?”
Sophia looked at him.
“The black book.”
Dante stopped breathing.
He crossed the room and opened the wardrobe.
Inside were Carmela’s dresses.
Shoes.
Coats.
Nothing else.
Sophia tapped the floor.
“Underneath.”
Dante removed the clothes.
He lifted the wooden floor panel.
A narrow cavity appeared.
Inside was a small black notebook.
Dante reached for it.
Stopped.
Then glanced at me.
“Why would a three-year-old know this?”
“I don't know.”
He took the notebook.
The first page contained names.
Bank accounts.
Dates.
Payments.
And beside several names was one word.
TRAITOR.
Dante's hand tightened around the book.
One of the names belonged to a man who had been sitting outside the room ten minutes earlier.
Matteo Rinaldi.
His chief of security.
His oldest friend.
Dante looked up.
For the first time, I saw murder in his eyes.
Not rage.
Not grief.
Decision.
Then Sophia pointed at the final page.
“That's the bad man.”
Dante turned the page.
There was a photograph attached.
It showed Carmela smiling.
And standing beside her was Matteo.
May you like
Written underneath were seven words.
HE KNOWS HOW I DIE.
