CHAPTER 4: THE FIRST WORD
CHAPTER 4: THE FIRST WORD
The storm clouds gathering over Chicago seemed to settle directly above the Romano estate.
After Marco's discovery, the mansion changed overnight.
Security doubled.
Every vehicle entering the property was searched.
Armed guards rotated every four hours.
No one questioned Dominic's orders.
Not after the photograph.
Not after the mysterious man outside the hospital.
Someone had been watching the Romano family for two years.
And now they were watching again.
Beatrice noticed the change immediately.
As she carried a tray of apple slices and crackers toward Leo's playroom, two security guards escorted her through the hallway.
She stopped.
"Is everything okay?"
One of the guards forced a smile.
"Routine precautions, Miss Miller."
She wasn't convinced.
Nothing about heavily armed men felt routine.
Inside the playroom, Leo sat beside the window exactly where she had left him the day before.
The untouched toys surrounded him like expensive decorations.
Beatrice smiled gently.
"I brought snacks."
Leo glanced at the tray but didn't move.
She set everything on the floor instead of the table.
"If you don't want them now, that's okay."
"No pressure."
She sat several feet away and pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket.
"I made something for you."
Leo watched curiously.
It wasn't a coloring page.
It was a terribly drawn elephant.
The legs were crooked.
The ears were uneven.
The trunk looked more like a garden hose.
Beatrice sighed dramatically.
"I tried."
"I think he looks... confused."
For the first time—
Leo's shoulders shook.
Not fear.
Laughter.
Silent laughter.
His eyes sparkled as he pointed at the elephant's tiny tail.
"Oh no," Beatrice gasped.
"I forgot the tail!"
She quickly drew an enormous tail that looked completely ridiculous.
Leo covered his mouth.
Another silent laugh escaped.
Mrs. Alvarez, quietly dusting the hallway outside, wiped away tears.
She had almost forgotten what joy sounded like.
Later that afternoon, Dominic stood in his study reading another report.
The investigators had finished reviewing Beatrice's background.
Every former employer described her the same way.
Kind.
Patient.
Impossible to discourage.
One recommendation caught his attention.
"Children trust Miss Miller because she never treats them like problems to be solved. She waits until they choose her."
Dominic read the sentence three times.
That was exactly what Leo had done.
He had chosen.
A soft knock interrupted him.
Marco entered carrying a tablet.
"We traced the SUV."
Dominic looked up.
"Owner?"
"Fake registration."
"But we recovered traffic-camera footage."
He placed the tablet on the desk.
A grainy image filled the screen.
The same black SUV.
Stopped at a red light.
The driver's face reflected briefly in the side mirror.
Dominic leaned forward.
His expression froze.
"No..."
Marco nodded grimly.
"You recognize him."
Dominic didn't answer immediately.
Finally he spoke.
"He worked maintenance on my yacht."
Marco frowned.
"The yacht that exploded?"
"Yes."
The room fell silent.
The man had disappeared immediately after Isabella's death.
Now...
He was back.
Watching Leo.
Watching the mansion.
Watching Beatrice.
That evening, Beatrice tucked Leo into bed.
She noticed something on his bedside table.
A framed family photograph.
Dominic.
A beautiful dark-haired woman.
Little Leo between them.
The glass had cracked diagonally across the woman's face.
Beatrice frowned.
"Did this fall?"
Leo looked at the picture.
Then slowly shook his head.
His breathing became uneven.
His fingers tightened around the blanket.
Beatrice immediately changed the subject.
"No more pictures."
"Would you like a bedtime story instead?"
Leo nodded.
She opened an old children's book and began reading.
Not dramatically.
Not like a performer.
Just softly.
Comfortably.
As if stories were safe places.
Halfway through the book, she noticed Leo wasn't looking at the pages.
He was looking at her.
Studying her face.
Making sure she was still there.
She smiled.
"I'm not going anywhere."
His tiny hand slowly reached out from beneath the blanket.
She gently held it.
Within minutes...
He fell asleep.
Still holding her fingers.
Outside the bedroom, Dominic had witnessed everything through the slightly open door.
He had never seen Leo fall asleep that peacefully.
Not once.
After Beatrice quietly closed the door behind her, Dominic spoke.
"Thank you."
She looked surprised.
"I didn't really do anything."
"You did."
She smiled awkwardly.
"I think he just needed someone who wasn't trying to fix him."
Dominic studied her for a long moment.
"Everyone else wanted results."
"I just wanted him to feel safe."
For the first time since his wife died...
Dominic felt hope.
Real hope.
Just after midnight...
Marco's secure phone rang.
His expression changed immediately.
"What is it?" Dominic asked.
"The surveillance team followed the black SUV."
"And?"
"It stopped at an abandoned warehouse near the harbor."
"Who was inside?"
Marco took a slow breath.
"Our people photographed a meeting."
He handed Dominic the printed image.
Dominic's blood turned cold.
Standing beside the former yacht mechanic...
...was Detective Richard Collins.
The very police detective who had led the investigation into Isabella Romano's so-called "accident."
The man who had declared there was no evidence of foul play.
Dominic slowly crushed the photograph in his hand.
"They buried my wife's murder..."
Marco nodded.
"And someone is trying very hard to make sure it stays buried."
Far above them, thunder rolled across the Chicago sky.
Neither man noticed the tiny blinking light hidden beneath the study bookshelf.
A microscopic listening device.
Every word they had spoken...
Had already been transmitted to someone waiting in the darkness.
May you like
And that someone now knew one terrifying fact:
Dominic Romano was getting dangerously close to the truth.
