Chapter 3 - The Man Behind the Forbidden Gate|
Three days after the terrace accident, Mia drew a picture that made Mrs. Alves drop a porcelain teacup.
The little girl had been sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by crayons, while Camila helped prepare the Sunday dinner service.
She was drawing what she called her new family.
There was Mommy, Grandma Elena, Bubbles, and a large gray house with crooked windows.
Beside the house stood two tall men wearing identical black coats.
Both had dark hair, long legs, and serious expressions.
One held a blue flower.
The other held a broken heart.
Mrs. Alves stopped beside the table.
“Who are these gentlemen, sweetheart?”
Mia pointed to the first figure.
“Mr. Vincent.”
Then she pointed to the second.
“Other Mr. Vincent.”
The teacup slipped from Mrs. Alves's fingers.
It shattered across the kitchen tiles.
Camila rushed forward.
“Are you hurt?”
Mrs. Alves stared at the drawing.
“No,” she whispered.
“I'm perfectly fine.”
But her face had lost its color.
Camila sent Mia to wash her hands while the broken porcelain was cleared away.
Then she turned to the older woman.
“You recognized something in that picture.”
Mrs. Alves bent to collect the last fragments.
“Children have remarkable imaginations.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
The housekeeper stood slowly.
“Miss Dwarte, you've been treated fairly here.”
“I have.”
“Then protect that arrangement.”
Camila felt a chill settle over her.
“By pretending my daughter didn't see something?”
“By remembering that some questions can bring trouble to people who have done nothing wrong.”
Mrs. Alves left before Camila could reply.
The warning followed Camila throughout the afternoon.
She noticed more than she usually did.
Two unfamiliar guards had been assigned to the western garden entrance.
A black SUV stood outside Vincent's study for nearly an hour.
Julian Voss spoke angrily into his phone beside the service stairs.
And shortly after four, Desmond received a call that made him abandon his coffee untouched.
“Berth Six?” he said sharply.
He lowered his voice when he noticed Camila.
“Tell Jonah not to move anything until I get there.”
Camila had heard the name Berth Six on her first day.
It was connected to the South Terminal lease, the subject of questions that had disturbed Desmond before she even arrived.
Now it seemed to follow every unusual conversation in the mansion.
She tried to dismiss her curiosity.
She had bills to pay and a daughter to raise.
Whatever happened at the harbor belonged to people with lawyers, security teams, and enough money to survive their mistakes.
That evening, she carried fresh towels to the second-floor guest suite.
As she passed the west-facing window, Mia suddenly grabbed her hand.
“Mommy, there.”
Camila followed her gaze.
A man was walking along the outer garden wall.
He wore a dark coat and kept his head lowered against the wind.
From the distance, his height and posture resembled Vincent's.
Camila stepped closer to the glass.
The man raised his face.
Her stomach tightened.
He had Vincent's eyes, Vincent's nose, and the same severe line of his jaw.
But silver streaked the hair near his temples, and a faint scar crossed his left eyebrow.
His expression was different too.
Vincent looked at the world as though he expected obedience.
This stranger looked as though he expected betrayal.
The man stopped beside the old iron gate leading toward the cottage.
He seemed to sense that someone was watching.
His gaze lifted toward the window.
For a brief moment, he looked directly at Camila and Mia.
Then he disappeared behind the trees.
Camila's first instinct was to find Desmond.
Her second was to collect her daughter's things and leave before nightfall.
But leaving would mean abandoning the salary that helped keep Elena in treatment.
It would mean searching for another apartment and another job while Mia adjusted to yet another unfamiliar place.
Camila hated that money could make a decision feel impossible even when fear was telling her exactly what to do.
She found Desmond near the security office.
“There's someone walking near the western gate.”
“Where?”
“Between the gardens and the cottage.”
His jaw tightened.
“Did he approach your daughter?”
“No.”
“Did he speak?”
“No.”
Desmond considered her answer.
“I'll handle it.”
“Who is he?”
“Someone who should not be seen on the main grounds.”
Camila stared at him.
“That's not very reassuring.”
“I know.”
It was the first completely honest answer she had received.
Later, Camila discovered that Mia had tucked her drawing beneath Bubbles's damaged ear.
The child was already asleep, her little fingers curled around the stuffed animal's paw.
Camila unfolded the paper.
Two men stood beside the gray mansion.
At the bottom, in uneven crayon marks, Mia had drawn a narrow silver circle split down the middle.
Camila studied it, unsettled by the shape.
It looked remarkably similar to the broken compass she had glimpsed in Vincent's study.
She had never mentioned that object to her daughter.
“Mia,” she whispered gently.
The child opened her eyes.
“Where did you see this?”
Mia touched the silver circle with one finger.
“The sad man has one.”
Camila's throat tightened.
“How do you know?”
“He showed Bubbles.”
The little girl yawned and closed her eyes again.
“He said it used to be whole.”
Camila remained beside the bed for a long time.
Outside, the coastal fog rolled over the gardens.
May you like
Somewhere beyond the western gate, another person knew about the broken compass locked inside Vincent Curado's desk.
And that person had already spoken to her daughter.
