Chapter 3 - The House With Too Many Secrets
At sunrise, Lily and I moved into the third floor of Dominic Moretti's mansion.
Calling it a third floor was misleading.
It was another world.
The public rooms downstairs were designed to impress people—marble pillars, museum paintings, crystal chandeliers, polished silver.
Upstairs felt different.
Human.
There were photographs on the walls.
Ethan missing his front teeth.
Dominic holding him as a baby.
An older woman I recognized as Dominic's late mother sitting beside a Christmas tree.
There were scratches on one doorway measuring Ethan's height over the years.
And on a small table outside Dominic's study sat a clay handprint with crooked letters:
DAD + ETHAN.
For the first time, Dominic Moretti seemed less like a legend and more like a father.
That illusion lasted approximately seven minutes.
Then three armed security officers walked past our bedroom.
“Mommy,” Lily whispered, “why do those men have jackets inside?”
Because their jackets were hiding guns.
“Because they're cold.”
She accepted the explanation.
Three-year-olds were merciful that way.
Ethan came to see her after breakfast.
He stopped in the doorway wearing dinosaur pajamas.
Lily immediately jumped from the bed.
“You're alive!”
Ethan laughed.
“So are you.”
She wrapped both arms around him.
Ethan looked embarrassed for half a second before hugging her back.
I had seen him around the estate for years.
He was polite, intelligent, lonely.
His birthday parties were enormous because Dominic believed children deserved celebrations, but I had often wondered how many guests Ethan actually considered friends.
Lily didn't care that his father owned half the city.
She cared that Ethan let her build blanket forts in the library.
“You broke my cake,” Ethan said.
“It was bad.”
“I know.”
“I saved you.”
“I know.”
“You owe me cake.”
Ethan stared at her.
Then he laughed so hard he had to sit down.
Dominic appeared in the doorway during the laughter.
He watched them.
Something softened in his eyes.
Then Marco, his security chief, appeared behind him.
The softness vanished.
“We need to talk.”
Dominic looked at me.
“You too.”
I followed them into the study.
The room smelled of coffee and cedarwood.
Marco placed photographs across the desk.
“We identified every guest recorded entering the ballroom.”
Dominic crossed his arms.
“And?”
“Nothing.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means every visible guest has a confirmed identity.”
I looked at the photographs.
“Could the man have been staff wearing a tuxedo?”
Marco nodded.
“Possible.”
“Or someone's driver?”
“Possible.”
“Then how do we find him?”
Marco hesitated.
Dominic noticed.
“What aren't you telling me?”
“One camera wasn't merely interrupted.”
Marco opened a laptop.
“It was accessed remotely.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“From outside?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Say that again.”
“The security system was accessed from an administrative terminal inside the estate.”
Dominic stared at him.
“Who has access?”
“You. Me. Three senior security officers.”
“And?”
Marco didn't answer.
Dominic's voice became dangerous.
“And?”
“Victor.”
I didn't know the name.
Dominic did.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
“Uncle Victor?” Ethan asked from the doorway.
All three men turned.
I hadn't heard the children approach.
Dominic's expression changed immediately.
“Go back to the bedroom.”
“But—”
“Ethan.”
The boy lowered his eyes.
“Yes, Dad.”
Lily grabbed his hand.
They disappeared together.
I looked at Dominic.
“Who is Victor?”
“My mother's younger brother.”
“Your uncle?”
“Yes.”
“And he has access to the security system?”
“He helped design the original infrastructure.”
Marco spoke carefully.
“Victor's credentials accessed the network at 5:42 yesterday afternoon.”
“Could someone have stolen them?”
“Yes.”
“Where was Victor?”
Marco's expression answered before he spoke.
“At the party.”
A chill passed through me.
Lily's description echoed in my mind.
Like the party.
A tuxedo.
Dominic walked to the window.
“Bring him here.”
Marco didn't move.
“Now.”
“He left at 8:17.”
“The estate was locked before eight.”
“No.”
Dominic turned.
Marco looked ashamed.
“According to the gate log, he left at 7:36.”
“But the party didn't end until after seven forty.”
“I know.”
Someone had altered the departure timestamp.
Dominic didn't shout.
He didn't slam anything.
That somehow made his anger more frightening.
“Find him.”
Marco left.
I should have returned to Lily.
Instead, I remained beside the desk.
“Do you think your uncle tried to hurt Ethan?”
Dominic looked at me.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
“You don't?”
“I think somebody used his credentials.”
“How can you be certain?”
Dominic stared toward the hallway where his son had disappeared.
“When Ethan was born, Victor sat outside the neonatal unit for sixteen hours because I wouldn't leave.”
His voice changed slightly.
“He has carried that boy on his shoulders every Christmas since Ethan learned to walk.”
“People can change.”
Dominic's eyes shifted toward me.
“So can circumstances.”
That was not the same as saying no.
Later that morning, investigators searched the cold room.
They found nothing.
No fingerprints.
No container.
No powder.
The attacker had prepared carefully.
But Lily remembered something else.
“His hand had a bird.”
Dominic crouched in front of her.
“A bird?”
She nodded.
“Here.”
She touched the inside of her wrist.
“A tattoo?”
“Blue bird.”
Dominic looked at Marco.
Marco immediately began searching security photographs.
Hours passed.
Then he stopped.
“Dominic.”
He turned the laptop.
A photograph from the ballroom filled the screen.
A man stood near the champagne fountain.
Thirty-five, perhaps forty.
Dark hair.
Black tuxedo.
His left hand rested around a champagne glass.
A small blue tattoo showed near his wrist.
Lily saw the picture.
She immediately stepped backward.
“That man.”
Dominic froze.
“You're sure?”
Lily hid behind my leg.
“Cake man.”
Marco zoomed in.
My stomach turned.
“Who is he?”
Nobody answered.
“Dominic?”
His face had drained of color.
“That's impossible.”
“Who is he?”
“Julian Vescari.”
The name meant nothing to me.
But Marco looked as if someone had opened a grave.
“He's dead,” Dominic said.
“What?”
“Julian Vescari died six years ago.”
I stared at the screen.
The photograph was clear.
“Apparently he didn't.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
Six years earlier, Julian Vescari had been a senior financial adviser inside the Moretti organization.
He was also Dominic's closest childhood friend.
They had grown up together.
Attended school together.
Built businesses together.
Then millions of dollars disappeared from a legitimate construction fund.
Evidence pointed toward Julian.
Before Dominic could confront him, Julian's car went off a bridge during a storm.
The vehicle burned.
A body was recovered.
The case ended.
Or everyone believed it had.
“Was the body identified?”
I asked.
“Dental records.”
“Could they have been falsified?”
Dominic looked toward Marco.
“Yes.”
The betrayal hit him visibly.
Not fear.
Something older.
Personal.
“Why come back now?” I asked.
Dominic answered quietly.
“Because six years ago, I took control of everything he believed should have belonged to him.”
“And Ethan?”
“My son is my heir.”
The words landed heavily.
I looked toward the hallway.
A child had become a target because of what his last name represented.
“And Lily?”
Marco answered.
“A witness.”
My hands curled.
“She is three.”
“That won't matter to someone willing to poison a child.”
Dominic looked at Marco.
“Double security.”
“Already done.”
“No electronic access outside the command room. Mechanical locks on the children's floor.”
“Yes.”
“I want Vescari found.”
Marco nodded.
“And Dominic?”
“What?”
“We have another problem.”
He placed a second photograph on the desk.
It showed Victor Moretti speaking to Julian near the side terrace.
The timestamp was six days earlier.
Dominic stared at it.
His uncle had met with a dead man.
And told no one.
That evening, Victor arrived voluntarily.
He was in his early sixties, silver-haired and elegant, with the easy confidence of someone who had spent his life around power.
He looked furious.
“Where is Ethan?”
“Safe,” Dominic said.
“And Lily?”
Victor looked toward me.
“Safe.”
“Good.”
Dominic placed the photograph on the table.
Victor stopped.
For the first time, fear appeared on his face.
“I can explain.”
“Do it.”
Victor sat.
“Julian contacted me three months ago.”
Dominic's eyes went cold.
“And you didn't tell me?”
“He threatened someone.”
“Who?”
Victor looked away.
“Your aunt.”
Dominic went still.
Victor's wife, Margaret, lived primarily in Florida.
“He had photographs. Travel schedules. Medical appointments. Everything.”
“So you gave him access?”
“No.”
“Your credentials were used.”
“I didn't give him anything.”
“Then how did he get them?”
Victor swallowed.
“He demanded I meet him.”
Dominic leaned across the desk.
“You knew a man who betrayed us was alive and walking around my city, and you said nothing?”
“I was trying to protect Margaret.”
“You nearly got Ethan killed.”
Victor flinched.
“I would die before I hurt that boy.”
Dominic's hand tightened against the desk.
“And yet my son nearly died.”
Victor covered his face.
Then Lily walked into the study.
I rushed toward her.
“Sweetheart, you're supposed to be with Ethan.”
But she wasn't looking at me.
She was looking at Victor.
Then she pointed.
“That's his ring.”
Every adult froze.
“What ring?” Dominic asked.
Lily walked closer.
Victor wore a large silver ring on his right hand.
She shook her head.
“Not him.”
She pointed at it again.
“Cake man had that.”
Dominic slowly turned toward his uncle.
Victor looked confused.
Then horrified.
“This ring?”
Lily nodded.
Victor removed it.
It carried the Moretti family crest.
“There are only five,” he whispered.
Dominic took it.
“Who has them?”
“You. Me. Marco. Your father had one.”
“My father's is in the vault.”
Victor hesitated.
“And Julian.”
Dominic stared at him.
“You gave Julian a family ring?”
“Your father did.”
“When?”
“Twenty-two years ago.”
Long before the betrayal.
Long before Ethan.
Long before any of us understood what that tiny piece of silver might mean.
Julian hadn't merely survived.
He had returned wearing proof that he had once belonged inside the family.
Dominic looked toward the photograph.
“He wants us to know who he is.”
Marco nodded.
“Then why hide?”
Dominic answered.
“Because the cake wasn't the end.”
I felt the truth before he finished.
“It was the beginning.”
That night, a package arrived at the front gate.
No courier.
No vehicle captured on camera.
Only a black box.
Inside was a small silver container.
Empty.
And beneath it, a handwritten note.
Dominic read it once.
Then handed it to me.
Four words were written across the paper.
THE GIRL REMEMBERS TOO MUCH.
I looked toward the ceiling where Lily slept.
Dominic took the note from my shaking hand.
His voice was quiet.
“Julian just made his second mistake.”
“What was the first?”
“Touching Ethan's cake.”
“And the second?”
Dominic looked directly at me.
May you like
“Threatening your daughter.”
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