Chapter 7 - THE DRAWING IN THE APRON
The silence in the bedroom was so thick it felt like I was drowning.
I stared at the woman sitting on the bed.
She had the same face, the same hair, the same custom lily perfume.
But the eyes looking back at me were completely different. They were cold, calculating, and entirely dead inside.
“You’re Victoria,” Matteo said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The woman smiled. It was a terrifying, hollow expression.
“Vanessa died in that clinic in Switzerland three months ago,” she said calmly. “Her heart simply gave out. I took her passport. I took her clothes. And I came back to take her life.”
I stumbled backward, my back hitting the doorframe.
“You played us,” Matteo said, his fists clenching. “You pretended to be your sister this entire time. You organized this engagement. You sent the eviction notices.”
“I had to isolate you, Matteo,” Victoria said, standing up. “Vanessa and Marco were bleeding your family’s trust dry. If I hadn't forced your hand tonight, they would have owned this entire estate by morning.”
She pointed at the plane ticket in Matteo’s hand.
“I bought that ticket under Claire’s name to throw Marco off my trail. He thinks the maid is the one sneaking information to the police.”
My stomach churned. “You set me up?”
“I insured myself,” Victoria corrected coldly.
Matteo stepped between us.
“Why did you burn the cottage, Victoria?”
“I didn't,” she snapped, her composure cracking for a second. “Marco did. He found out Thomas had a copy of your mother’s original will. I only went there to pull the old man out before Marco’s mistake ruined everything.”
Matteo looked at her.
“You expect me to believe you’re the hero in this?”
“I expect you to survive,” Victoria spat back.
Suddenly, my apron pocket felt heavy.
I remembered something.
Before we left for the hospital, little Leo had shoved a crumpled piece of paper into my apron. He said it was a drawing he made of the "perfume lady" who visited his house before his parents died in the fire three years ago.
My hands shaking, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded paper.
I opened it.
It was a child's crayon drawing.
A stick figure woman with blonde hair, wearing a red dress, standing next to a house with orange scribbles for fire.
But it wasn't the drawing that made my heart stop.
It was what Leo had glued to the paper.
Glued to the bottom corner of the drawing was a small, torn piece of a custom label.
It read: L'Atelier Paris - Lily & White Amber. Custom Blend for Vanessa Bellini.
I looked up at Victoria.
“You said Vanessa died three months ago.”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “She did.”
I held up the drawing.
“Then why did Leo see a woman wearing Vanessa’s custom perfume at his house three years ago, right before his parents were murdered in a fire?”
Victoria stared at the label. For the first time, genuine panic flickered in her eyes.
“That’s impossible.”
Matteo snatched the drawing from my hand.
He stared at the perfume label, then looked at Victoria.
“You said you came back three months ago.”
Victoria backed away, hitting the edge of the dresser.
“I did! I swear to God, Matteo, I was in Switzerland!”
Matteo’s voice turned dangerously quiet.
“If you were in Switzerland... and Vanessa is dead... who set the fire that killed Leo’s parents?”
Before Victoria could answer, the heavy bedroom door slammed shut behind me.
The lock clicked.
I spun around.
Standing in the shadows of the hallway, holding a silenced pistol, was Miriam.
The sweet, retired hospice nurse who had given us the rosary.
She stepped into the light, her face twisted in a bitter, cruel sneer.
“You always were the stupid sister, Victoria,” Miriam said, raising the gun.
Miriam reached into her gray cardigan and pulled out a small glass vial.
She tossed it onto the bed.
It was a bottle of custom Lily & White Amber perfume.
“My daughter,” Miriam said, her voice shaking with rage, “was Vanessa’s personal assistant.”
Matteo stared at her in shock.
“Miriam... what are you doing?”
Miriam ignored him, glaring at Victoria.
“My daughter wore Vanessa’s hand-me-down clothes. She wore Vanessa’s discarded perfume. She looked just like her from the back.”
Miriam raised the gun, pointing it directly at Victoria’s chest.
“Marco didn't kill Leo’s parents. My daughter did. On Marco’s orders. To steal the trust documents hidden in their floorboards.”
Miriam’s eyes filled with tears, but her grip on the gun was rock steady.
“And when she threatened to go to the police... Marco killed her, too.”
Miriam looked at Matteo.
“I didn't bring you that rosary to help you, Matteo. I brought it to lock everyone in this house so I could burn it to the ground.”
May you like
She pulled a silver lighter from her pocket.
“Just like Marco burned my daughter.”
