Chapter 3 - The Man with the Silver RingBy six in the morning, the Moretti estate had become a fortress.
Two black SUVs blocked the main gate. Guards checked every service entrance, while technicians worked through the surveillance network. Every employee had been instructed to remain on the property until Dante completed his investigation.
Nobody complained.
Not after seeing his face.
Dante sat in the surveillance room, watching the same twelve seconds of footage for the twentieth time.
At 2:13 a.m., camera seventeen showed an empty corridor.
At 2:14, the image flickered.
At 2:15, it returned.
Twelve seconds had disappeared.
The same interruption appeared on five other cameras near the servants' wing.
No forced entry. No suspicious vehicle. No intruder crossing the gates.
Someone had moved through the house without appearing on a single usable recording.
Dante leaned back.
“Who has administrator access?” he asked.
Rossi checked the records.
“You, me, Victor Raines, and the head technician.”
“Where is the technician?”
“Locked in the security office with two guards.”
“And Victor?”
“He's coming here now.”
As if summoned by the mention of his name, the door opened.
Victor Raines entered wearing a charcoal suit, polished shoes, and the silver ring he had worn for as long as Dante could remember. A thin scar ran from his left ear to his jaw.
He had served the Moretti family for nine years and managed much of the estate's security for the past four. He was efficient, disciplined, and rarely surprised.
That morning, he appeared irritated.
“Dante, do you know what this lockdown is doing to tomorrow's event? Half the guests are already asking questions.”
“Then tell them I enjoy disappointing people.”
Victor's mouth tightened.
“What's happened?”
Dante placed the hidden camera on the table.
Victor examined it.
“Where did you find that?”
“Inside a passage behind a bedroom wall.”
Victor looked up.
For a fraction of a second, something flashed across his face.
Surprise.
Or recognition.
It disappeared so quickly that Dante might have missed it if he hadn't been watching.
“What passage?” Victor asked.
“The one someone used to enter Sophie's room.”
Victor slowly set the camera down.
“Sophie's room?”
“The housekeeper's daughter.”
“I know who she is.”
“Then you know she's five years old.”
Victor folded his arms.
“Children have vivid imaginations. Are you certain this isn't a misunderstanding?”
Dante said nothing.
Victor continued.
“If somebody was walking around the servants' wing, we would have seen them on camera. The estate is covered from every angle.”
“Except the angles that have been disabled.”
“Then the technician made a mistake.”
“The technician says he didn't.”
Victor's gaze hardened.
“Are you accusing me of something?”
“I'm asking questions.”
“You've locked down your own house, frightened your employees, and dragged me out of bed because a little girl heard a noise.”
Dante leaned forward.
“No. I locked down my house because someone watched a child sleep through a hidden camera, entered my security system using my credentials, and erased twelve seconds from six different recordings.”
Victor fell silent.
Dante slid a photograph across the table.
It showed the footprints in the hidden passage.
“Recognize those?”
Victor glanced at the picture.
“No.”
“Look carefully.”
“I said no.”
Dante watched his hands.
Victor's right thumb rubbed against the silver ring on his left hand. It was an old habit, one Dante had seen during negotiations, interrogations, and moments when Victor was trying to hide his frustration.
The ring bore a tiny engraved symbol.
Three narrow lines arranged around a small black stone.
Dante had never bothered asking about it.
Now he wondered why.
“Where were you between two and three this morning?” Dante asked.
“In my room.”
“Anyone confirm that?”
“My driver saw me come upstairs. After that, I slept.”
“Convenient.”
Victor's expression turned cold.
“Be careful, Dante.”
The room fell silent.
Rossi shifted beside the door.
Nobody warned Dante Moretti to be careful inside his own estate.
Nobody except a man who had apparently forgotten who paid his salary.
Dante stood.
“Until this investigation is finished, your security credentials are suspended.”
Victor stared at him.
“You can't be serious.”
“Your weapons are to be surrendered, and two guards will accompany you wherever you go.”
“You're treating me like a suspect.”
“Then you should have no trouble cooperating.”
For several seconds, Victor looked ready to argue.
Then he straightened his jacket.
“Of course, boss.”
He walked toward the door.
Just before leaving, he turned back.
“One piece of advice. Don't let a frightened child turn you against the people who have protected this family.”
The door closed behind him.
Dante didn't move.
There had been something deliberate in Victor's words. He hadn't asked whether Sophie was safe. He hadn't shown concern about the camera or the hidden passage.
He had been worried about what Dante might discover.
Rossi broke the silence.
“Should I have him followed?”
“Already should have.”
Rossi nodded and left.
Dante remained in the room, thinking about the silver ring.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message had arrived from an unknown number.
No greeting. No explanation.
Just a photograph.
Sophie was asleep in her bed, Bruno lying across the doorway.
The angle was unmistakable.
The picture had been taken from inside the hidden passage.
Beneath it were seven words.
THE DOG CAN'T PROTECT HER FOREVER.
Dante stared at the screen.
The photograph had been taken less than ten minutes earlier, after the room was supposed to have been secured.
He called Rossi.
“Get to Sophie's room. Now.”
Then he ran.
When he reached the servants' wing, two guards stood outside the bedroom. One had his weapon drawn. The other looked confused.
“What happened?” Dante demanded.
“Nothing, boss,” the first guard said. “We've been here the whole time.”
Dante pushed through the doorway.
Sophie was sitting upright in bed.
Bruno stood beside her, growling toward the wardrobe.
The hidden panel was closed.
The guards swore nobody had entered.
Dante approached Sophie.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Did you hear anything?”
“Not tonight.”
“Then why is Bruno growling?”
Sophie looked at the wardrobe.
“Because someone put something under my bed.”
Dante knelt.
At first, he saw only dust and a stray sock.
Then his fingers touched a small envelope taped to the wooden frame.
He pulled it free.
Inside was a photograph of a man in a security uniform standing beside a younger version of Elena. The woman was smiling, one hand resting on her swollen belly.
On the back, someone had written a date.
Three years earlier.
Beneath the date was a name Dante hadn't heard in years.
RAFAEL ALVAREZ.
Elena's husband.
The man who had supposedly died in a car accident before she began working at the estate.
Dante turned the photograph over again.
A second line had been written beneath Rafael's name.
HE DIDN'T DIE IN AN ACCIDENT.
From the hallway came the sound of hurried footsteps.
Elena appeared at the doorway, breathless and frightened.
Her eyes landed on the photograph.
All the color drained from her face.
“Where did you get that?” she whispered.
Dante held it up.
“That's what I'm trying to find out.”
Elena shook her head, staring at the image as if it had crawled out of a grave.
Then she looked at Sophie.
“Baby,” she whispered, “where is the star pillow?”
Sophie's hands flew to the blanket.
May you like
The pillow was gone.
And Bruno was already running toward the hidden door.
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