Chapter 5 - THE CHILD'S DRAWING
I stared down the barrel of Matteo’s gun.
The steel was cold, steady, and terrifyingly close to my heart.
"Daddy, no!" Sofia screamed, burying her face in her hands.
Matteo didn't look at her, but his jaw clenched. "Go to the corner, Sofia. Turn around."
"I didn't steal it!" I blurted out, the words tumbling over each other. "I swear to God, Mr. Romano, I didn't take it from her room!"
"Then how did you get it?" His finger hovered over the trigger.
"I found it!" I cried, tears welling in my eyes, spilling over my cheeks. "Three months ago. When I was assigned to deep-clean the guest wing. It was shoved down between the floorboards under the radiator in the corner room."
Matteo’s eyes narrowed. "The corner room?"
"Yes! The one with the blue drapes."
Matteo’s gun didn't lower, but his expression shifted slightly.
The corner room wasn't just a guest room.
"That was Vincent’s room," Matteo said quietly. "Before he moved into the main advisor's suite."
"I didn't know whose it was," I pleaded, holding the rosary out to him. "It looked important. Sacred. I didn't want to just throw it away, and I didn't want to get in trouble for being nosy. So I kept it. I swear on my life, that's the truth."
Matteo stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. He was a man who read lies for a living. He searched my face, looking for the tell. The twitch, the eye dart, the nervous swallow.
He found nothing but pure, unadulterated terror.
Slowly, he lowered the gun.
He took the rosary from my trembling hand. He traced the smooth wooden beads with his thumb, his eyes distant, lost in a memory I couldn't see.
"Elena was clutching this when they pulled her from the wreckage," he whispered. "The police gave it to me in an evidence bag. I put it in her room."
"How did Vincent get it?" I asked softly.
Matteo looked up. The realization was dawning on him, heavy and horrifying. "Because Vincent had access to the entire house. He must have taken it. A souvenir."
"A souvenir?" I asked. "But you said it was a car accident."
"I was told the brakes failed," Matteo said. His voice was hollow, stripped of all emotion. "It was raining. The mountain road was slick. They said it was a tragic malfunction."
He looked at the security monitors on the wall. Dozens of camera feeds showed his guards running through the estate, searching for Vincent.
"A malfunction," Matteo repeated, the word tasting like poison in his mouth. "Vincent was the one who oversaw the vehicle maintenance. He was the one who cleared her car for the drive that night."
A heavy silence filled the safe room.
I watched the man who ruled the city's underworld shatter right in front of me. Everything he thought he knew—his safety, his trusted circle, the tragic death of his wife—was a meticulously constructed lie.
Suddenly, Sofia tugged on my skirt.
I looked down.
She had pulled a piece of folded paper from her nightgown pocket.
"Lily?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Is Daddy mad at you?"
"No, sweetie," I said, wiping my tears quickly. "He's just... he's just worried."
Sofia sniffled. "I draw pictures when I'm worried. It makes the monsters go away."
She handed me the paper.
I unfolded it. It was a child's drawing done in crayon. Stick figures. A bright yellow sun. A black car.
But it wasn't just any drawing.
There was a man standing next to the car, holding what looked like a wrench. He had a harsh, jagged red line drawn across his jaw. A scar.
"Sofia," I said softly, my heart skipping a beat. "Who is this man in the drawing?"
Sofia pointed at the figure with the scar. "That's Uncle Vincent's friend. He came to fix Mommy's car the day before she went to heaven."
Matteo spun around. He dropped to his knees next to us and gently took the paper from my hands.
"Sofia," Matteo said, his voice incredibly gentle, trying to mask the absolute shock on his face. "Did you see this man?"
Sofia nodded. "He was in the garage. Uncle Vincent gave him an envelope. The man had a big scratch on his face."
Matteo looked at me. The final piece of the puzzle had just clicked into place.
It wasn't an accident. It was a hit. And Vincent had orchestrated it.
"Mr. Romano," I whispered, a sudden, terrifying memory surfacing in my mind. The recording. The audio file I had taken from the library.
"What is it, Lily?"
"The night I was attacked," I said, my hands beginning to shake again. "When I recorded Vincent and the other man talking in the office... I heard a phrase. I didn't understand what it meant at the time. I just thought it was about business."
"What did they say?" Matteo demanded, standing up.
May you like
I looked at the drawing of the black car.
"Vincent told the man..." I swallowed hard. "'Make sure the brakes work exactly like they did five years ago.'"
