Chapter 2 - The Housekeeper’s Secret
I reached the garden just as Sophia, pale and trembling, was rushing to pull her daughter away.
“Mr. Rossi, I’m so sorry,” Sophia stammered, her hands gripping Emma’s coat. “She doesn't know what she’s saying. We’ll leave at once.”
“Stop,” I said. The word was a whip crack. I didn't look at Sophia. I looked at the silver charm resting in the palm of Emma’s hand.
I knelt, ignoring the frozen mud soaking into my trousers. I held out my hand. Emma didn't hesitate. She placed the charm in my palm, her skin warm and vibrant against the cold metal.
“Where did you get this?” I asked, my voice dangerously low.
Emma pointed toward the woods behind the estate, where the old gardener’s shack sat in ruins. “The lady in the white dress showed Grandma. She said it was for the little girl who can't run.”
Isabella was watching us, her eyes wide, the paralysis finally cracking to reveal a sliver of terror and awe.
“Sophia,” I said, not taking my eyes off the charm. “Who is your mother?”
Sophia looked at the ground, her face a mask of hidden history. “Her name is Maria. She worked for your wife’s family before you were ever married, Mr. Rossi. She… she was the one who hid the secrets that no one else was allowed to touch.”
The Moretti attack hadn't just been a hit. It had been a surgical strike against the foundations of my life. My wife’s family had been involved in old-world politics, roots that went deeper than I had ever dared to dig.
“Bring her here,” I commanded. “Tonight.”
As I looked back at Isabella, she reached out, her fingers trembling, and gripped my sleeve. For the first time in three years, she spoke.
May you like
“Papa, she’s not gone. The lady… she told Emma the way back.”
My blood chilled. This wasn't just about paralysis. This was about a ghost refusing to stay buried.
