Chapter 3 - Ghosts of the Past
The mansion grew eerily quiet as midnight approached. Dominic had arranged for a secure guest suite on the third floor—far away from the main service quarters—to be prepared for Lily and me. Two of his most trusted guards stood post outside the heavy oak double doors, their presence a constant reminder that we were now living inside a fortress within a fortress.
I sat on the edge of the plush king-sized bed, watching Lily sleep peacefully beneath a duvet of imported silk. Her breathing was steady, rhythmic, entirely untouched by the dark currents swirling around us.
A soft knock echoed at the door.
I stood up quickly, smoothing out my uniform skirt, and walked over to turn the brass handle.
Dominic stood in the hallway, the harsh overhead light casting sharp lines across his face. He held a thick manila folder in his left hand. Without a word, he stepped past me into the room, tossing the folder onto the coffee table by the window.
“Vance decrypted the surveillance logs from three weeks ago,” Dominic said, walking over to the window and looking out over the moonlit gardens below. “We tracked the intruder’s movement inside the mansion.”
“Did you find out who he is?” I asked, clutching my hands together nervously.
“Not a face,” Dominic replied, his voice dropping an octave. “Our exterior street cameras picked up his vehicle as he left the estate grounds that night. A late-model black sedan with cloned plates. But the traffic registry cameras picked it up again heading north toward the industrial harbor district. Do you know anyone with ties to the harbor, Elena?”
I frowned, racking my brain. “No. I’ve lived in this city my entire life, but the harbor... that’s where the shipping yards are. My late husband worked odd jobs near the docks before he passed away, but—”
I stopped abruptly. A cold shiver crawled down my spine.
Dominic turned sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Go on.”
“Before... before Marcus died,” I stammered, the suppressed memories rushing back like a tidal wave, “he kept talking about a debt. He said he borrowed money from men who didn't use banks. He told me to take Lily and run if anything ever happened to him.”
“What kind of men?” Dominic asked, stepping closer.
“I didn't ask! I was terrified!” I cried out softly, keeping my voice down so as not to wake Lily. “Marcus was involved in something illegal—smuggling or cargo theft, I don't know. When he died in that so-called accident three years ago, the police ruled it a drunk driving crash off the pier. But his body... his body was never recovered.”
The room went dead silent.
Dominic stared at me, processing the weight of my words. “A man who fakes his own death to escape a dangerous syndicate doesn't just vanish into thin air, Elena. If Marcus is still alive, and if he believes you or your daughter hold something he left behind before he disappeared—”
“I don't have anything!” I interrupted, tears spilling over. “He left us nothing except eviction notices and debt collectors pounding on our door!”
“Think,” Dominic commanded gently, placing a heavy, warm hand on my shoulder. The physical contact sent a sudden electric shock through my system. “Did he leave a storage unit key? A digital drive? A notebook? Anything he might have stashed away in your apartment before he disappeared?”
I closed my eyes, searching every dark corner of my memory. For three years, I had scrubbed floors, washed dishes, and counted every single coin just to keep us fed. We had moved three times to escape back-rent notices. If Marcus had left something behind, it would have been thrown out long ago by a landlord.
Or...
My eyes flew open.
“The old wooden music box,” I whispered.
Dominic raised an eyebrow. “What music box?”
“Marcus gave it to me on our first wedding anniversary. It was an old, heavy oak box with a carved brass clasp. It wouldn't play music properly, so I shoved it into the bottom of my mother’s cedar chest in the attic years ago, thinking it was just broken junk.”
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Dominic’s expression hardened instantly. “When did you last see it?”
“It’s still at my mother’s apartment,” I gasped, the horrible realization dawning on me. “The apartment we left this morning before coming here to clean the estate. That’s why he was watching the hospital! He wasn't just following us—he was waiting for us to go back home so he could search the apartment!”
