Chapter 3 - The Letter Daniel Wrote From a Place Without Windows|
Adrian didn't open the envelope immediately.
He stood beside the dining table, staring at his younger brother's handwriting as though touching the paper might make it disappear.
I'd never known Daniel Moretti.
To me, he had always been a faded photograph in the upstairs hallway.
A dark-haired teenage boy with mischievous eyes.
A boy whose picture sat beside his mother's portrait.
A boy nobody mentioned during dinner.
Now his handwriting lay in Adrian's hands.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
Margaret wiped her cheeks.
“It was delivered to my apartment six years ago.”
Adrian looked up sharply.
“Six years?”
She nodded.
“There was no return address. Only my name.”
“Why didn't you bring it to me?”
Her face crumpled.
“Because someone called me the next morning.”
“Who?”
“A man who said Daniel would suffer if I contacted you.”
The room went quiet.
I watched Adrian close his eyes.
Then he opened the envelope.
Inside were two folded pages.
He began reading silently.
His face changed almost immediately.
Then his hand began trembling.
“Adrian?” Margaret whispered.
He swallowed.
And read aloud.
Dear Addy,
The nickname struck him visibly.
He sat down.
Nobody had called Adrian that in years.
Margaret covered her mouth.
Adrian continued.
I don't know whether you'll ever read this. They tell me you know I'm alive, but I don't believe them.
His voice broke.
You promised you'd come looking if I ever got lost.
A tear slid down Adrian's cheek.
He stopped.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he continued.
I remember the sailboat. I remember the water. I remember waking up in a hospital and asking for you.
Dad said I couldn't come home because people would hurt our family.
He said the safest thing was for everyone to believe I was dead.
Adrian pressed one hand against his forehead.
Margaret began crying quietly.
At first, I believed him.
Then the months became years.
I asked to call you. They refused.
I asked to see Mom. They told me she didn't want me back.
Adrian lowered the letter.
His expression was one of such terrible grief that I had to look away.
His mother, Isabella Moretti, had died eight years earlier.
Every anniversary, Adrian still placed white roses beside her photograph.
She had spent fourteen years mourning a son who might have been alive all that time.
Adrian slowly continued.
I know I made mistakes when I was seventeen. I know I got involved with people I shouldn't have trusted.
But I never wanted to leave you.
The next sentence made Adrian stop breathing.
If you ever find me, please don't believe them when they say I chose to disappear.
I didn't.
The letter ended with seven words.
I'm still waiting for you, big brother.
Adrian folded the pages.
Then unfolded them.
His eyes remained fixed on the final sentence.
I could see the tattoos along his hands as his fingers tightened around the paper.
For a long time, the only sound was Margaret crying.
Then Adrian looked toward Richard Cross.
“Where did you keep him?”
Richard was standing beside the fireplace under Marco's watchful eye.
He looked exhausted.
“Adrian, Daniel was involved in a serious incident.”
“What incident?”
“Something that could have ruined your father's business.”
Adrian stood.
“My brother was seventeen.”
“He wasn't an innocent child.”
Adrian's face hardened.
“Careful.”
Richard lowered his eyes.
For a moment, I thought Adrian might lose control.
But instead, he turned toward Marco.
“Contact our attorney. I want the hospital records preserved and the police notified.”
Richard immediately protested.
“You can't involve the police.”
Adrian looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because you'll reopen things your father spent years keeping buried.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“My father is dead.”
Richard swallowed.
“And if my brother is alive, I'm going to find him.”
Vivienne stood near the doorway.
Her face had gone white.
“Adrian, please. My father was trying to protect your family.”
Adrian turned.
“Did you know Daniel was alive when you agreed to marry me?”
She said nothing.
He stared.
“Vivienne.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“My father told me it was complicated.”
“When?”
She hesitated.
“Before we started dating.”
The silence was unbearable.
Adrian stared at the woman he'd planned to marry in six weeks.
“You knew my brother might be alive.”
She began crying.
“And you watched me visit his grave.”
“Adrian—”
“You stood beside me every August.”
Her face crumpled.
“You held my hand while I told you how much I missed him.”
Vivienne covered her mouth.
He shook his head.
“I thought you loved me.”
“I do!”
“No.”
His voice became very quiet.
“You loved the life you thought marrying me would give you.”
He removed his engagement ring from his pocket.
Then placed it on the table.
“The wedding is canceled.”
Vivienne stopped breathing.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
She began sobbing.
But Adrian turned away.
He looked toward Margaret.
“Can you remember anything about the place Daniel wrote from?”
The elderly woman hesitated.
“There was a stamp on the original envelope.”
“What stamp?”
“A little blue bird.”
I frowned.
A blue bird.
For some reason, the image felt familiar.
Then I remembered a delivery box I'd seen in the mansion's service garage.
A white cardboard carton stamped with a blue swallow.
It had arrived three days earlier.
Addressed to Vivienne Cross.
My stomach tightened.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Adrian looked at me.
“Yes, Sophie?”
“I think I've seen that symbol.”
Everyone turned.
I swallowed.
“On a package delivered to Miss Cross.”
Vivienne went completely still.
Adrian's expression changed.
“Where is it?”
“In the service garage.”
Vivienne took a step backward.
And suddenly I understood.
May you like
The woman who had ordered me to remove Margaret's dinner plate hadn't simply wanted to humiliate an elderly former employee.
She had wanted to prevent us from discovering what was arriving at the house.
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