Chapter 2 - The Photograph Behind the ClockNorah stared at the photograph.
Then at Dominic.
Then back at the photograph.
“That isn’t possible.”
Dominic didn't answer.
His thumb brushed the edge of the picture.
The photograph had been folded several times.
The paper was yellow with age.
Rosa Bellandi stood in front of a black sedan, holding a newborn wrapped in a cream-colored blanket.
The baby was tiny.
Barely more than a few days old.
Around the baby's neck was a thin silver chain.
The same pendant Norah had worn almost every day since childhood.
Norah felt a cold pressure rise through her chest.
“My grandmother had this.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You said she raised you?”
“Yes.”
“From birth?”
“For most of it.”
“Who were your parents?”
Norah's expression changed.
“My mother died when I was a baby.”
“And your father?”
“I never knew him.”
Dominic went completely still.
Salvatore made a rough sound from across the room.
His left hand slammed repeatedly against the wheelchair.
Dominic turned.
“What?”
Salvatore pointed at the photograph.
Then at Norah.
Then at himself.
“He’s trying to say something,” Norah whispered.
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“He's been trying to say something for years.”
Norah crouched beside Salvatore.
“Who is the baby?”
Salvatore's lips moved.
His breath shook.
“Do…”
He stopped.
Again.
“Do…”
“Daughter?” Norah guessed.
Salvatore shook his head.
Dominic stepped closer.
“Don't guess.”
Norah looked at him.
“You can barely understand him.”
“And neither can you.”
Salvatore suddenly grabbed Dominic's wrist.
His fingernails dug into his son's skin.
Dominic looked down.
For the first time, Norah saw something break through his controlled expression.
Fear.
“What is he saying?” she asked.
Dominic stared at his father.
“My father doesn't grab people unless he knows they matter.”
Salvatore released him.
Then pointed toward the floor.
A wooden panel beside his chair.
Norah knelt.
There was a narrow seam in the floorboards.
Hidden beneath a Persian rug.
Dominic pulled the rug back.
A small steel box was embedded in the floor.
Locked.
Norah looked at him.
“Do you have a key?”
“No.”
Salvatore lifted his left hand.
A gold ring hung from his finger.
He twisted it.
The stone popped loose.
Inside was a tiny steel key.
Dominic stared at it.
“You kept that all these years?”
Salvatore looked away.
Dominic took the key.
The box opened.
Inside were envelopes.
Dozens of them.
Every envelope carried the same name.
Dominic.
Norah watched his face as he opened the first.
His eyes moved quickly.
Then stopped.
“What?”
He handed her the page.
She read it.
You will hate yourself when you learn the truth.
You will think I betrayed you.
I did not.
Your daughter is alive.
Norah's breath caught.
She looked at Dominic.
He was staring at the page as if it had physically struck him.
“You have a daughter?”
Dominic didn't move.
Another letter.
Then another.
All from Rosa.
All dated twenty-six years ago.
One sentence appeared again and again.
Do not trust Vittorio.
Norah looked up.
“Who's Vittorio?”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“Victor De Luca.”
“The man who runs the family books?”
“He runs more than that.”
Norah felt the room become colder.
Dominic opened the final envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
Rosa.
A much younger Dominic.
And an infant.
Norah.
Dominic dropped the photograph.
“No.”
Norah picked it up.
The baby's face was partly visible.
But the silver pendant was unmistakable.
Dominic backed away.
“My daughter died.”
Norah's voice became quiet.
“Who told you?”
“My father.”
Salvatore made a violent choking sound.
Dominic turned toward him.
“You told me she died.”
Salvatore began crying again.
Dominic's voice rose.
“You told me Rosa was dead too.”
Salvatore tried to speak.
“Li…”
“Liar?”
Salvatore shook his head.
His lips trembled.
“Protect…”
“Protect who?”
Salvatore stared at Norah.
Then at Dominic.
“Daughter.”
The word landed like a gunshot.
Dominic stared at Norah.
Norah couldn't breathe.
“You think I'm your daughter?”
“I don't know what I think.”
Then something crashed upstairs.
Everyone froze.
Frank's footsteps thundered through the hall.
A gunshot followed.
Norah flinched.
Dominic immediately grabbed her arm.
“Stay behind me.”
Another shot.
Then a scream.
Elena.
Dominic drew the handgun from beneath his jacket.
He looked toward the hallway.
“Someone knew we opened that box.”
Norah looked down at the letters.
One of them was missing.
The final envelope.
The one marked with Dominic's name.
May you like
Someone had taken it.
And whoever took it had known exactly what was inside.
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