Chapter 3 - THE HOUSE THAT NEVER EXISTED
Florence was raining when we landed.
Lily pressed her face against the airport window and watched water slide across the glass.
“I thought Italy was sunny.”
“Sometimes it rains in beautiful places,” I said.
Noah looked at me.
He understood I was not talking about Italy.
Mara had arranged for a driver to take us to a small hotel near the Arno River instead of the luxury property Adrian had originally reserved.
She believed the Blackwood family office might be monitoring the reservation.
I thought she was being overly cautious until the driver showed me a photograph.
A man in a gray coat had been waiting near the arrivals gate holding a sign with my married name.
Mrs. Adrian Blackwood.
I had stopped being that woman less than twenty-four hours earlier.
“Did he speak to you?” I asked.
The driver shook his head.
“He asked airport staff whether your flight had arrived. When he saw me watching, he left.”
“Did you see where he went?”
“A black sedan.”
Mara had warned me that wealthy families rarely thought of surveillance as surveillance.
They called it security.
I called Daniel Mercer from the car.
He answered immediately.
“Do not go to the original hotel.”
“We are not.”
“Do not post photographs, do not use shared credit cards, and turn off location services on the children’s devices.”
“Who was the man at the airport?”
“We’re checking.”
“Was he sent by Adrian?”
“I don’t know.”
The honesty frightened me more than reassurance would have.
I looked at Noah and Lily.
They were exhausted.
Lily had fallen asleep against her brother.
“Should we come home?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the emergency asset freeze was granted thirty minutes ago.”
I sat straighter.
“What exactly was frozen?”
“Your joint investment accounts, two domestic holding companies, the education trust, and any transfer connected to the properties we identified.”
“Will Adrian know?”
“He knows.”
I imagined his reaction.
His anger.
His disbelief that I had acted without asking permission.
“Did he respond?”
“His attorney called my office.”
“What did he say?”
“That the transfers were legitimate investments made for marital benefit.”
“The villa was for Celeste.”
“We have the photograph.”
“And the note.”
“We have that too.”
Rain struck the car roof.
The driver turned onto a narrow street lined with stone buildings.
Daniel continued.
“There is a larger problem.”
“For him or for me?”
“Potentially both.”
My stomach tightened.
“What problem?”
“The apartment in Paris does not belong to the company listed on the deed.”
“I saw the deed.”
“The deed is false.”
I looked out at the rain.
“False how?”
“The registry number belongs to a property demolished in 1987.”
I tried to understand.
“Then where did the money go?”
“That is what we are tracing.”
“Three million dollars cannot disappear.”
“It can move.”
“To where?”
“Six accounts across four countries.”
I closed my eyes.
“Was Adrian laundering money?”
“I am not prepared to make that accusation.”
“But you are thinking it.”
“I am thinking someone created a fraudulent purchase to justify removing money from the children’s trust.”
“Someone.”
“We need evidence before assigning names.”
“It was in his locked desk.”
“Yes.”
“He had the forged authorization.”
“Yes.”
“He wrote the note on the villa photograph.”
“Yes.”
“But you still will not say he did it.”
“I am your lawyer. My job is to prove what can be proven.”
I looked at Noah.
He watched the city through the window, pretending not to listen.
“Prove it,” I said.
“We will.”
The car stopped outside a quiet hotel with green shutters.
No one waited in the lobby.
No reporters.
No Blackwood employees.
No gray-coated stranger.
For the first time since Adrian walked out, I exhaled.
Our suite had two bedrooms and a sitting room overlooking the river.
It was smaller than the places we usually stayed.
Lily loved it immediately.
“There are yellow curtains.”
She ran to the window.
Noah placed his backpack beside the sofa.
“Are we safe here?”
The question stopped me.
“Why would you ask that?”
“I saw the man at the airport.”
I crouched before him.
“Mara thinks your father may send someone to make sure we are okay.”
“He could call.”
“Yes.”
“He hasn’t.”
“No.”
Noah looked away.
I touched his cheek.
“You are safe.”
“Are you?”
I smiled despite the ache inside me.
“I’m learning.”
That evening, Lily fell asleep before dinner.
Noah ate half a bowl of soup, then asked to watch television.
I called Mara.
She was in my house with Daniel’s investigator, scanning documents from Adrian’s study.
“We found a hidden compartment,” she said.
“In the desk?”
“Behind the built-in shelves.”
“What was inside?”
“Hard drives. A second phone. Several passports.”
“Passports?”
“Not his.”
My skin prickled.
“Whose?”
“One belongs to Celeste.”
“Why would he have her passport?”
“I don’t know. There are two more with different names but the same photograph.”
“Her photograph?”
“Yes.”
I stood near the hotel window.
The Arno reflected streetlights below.
“Is she involved in the missing money?”
“Maybe.”
“Or Adrian created the identities.”
“Maybe.”
“Mara, stop saying maybe.”
“I will stop when we know.”
A knock sounded at the hotel door.
I froze.
“Someone is here.”
“Do not open it.”
Another knock.
Then a woman’s voice.
“Signora Blackwood? Delivery.”
I looked through the peephole.
A hotel employee stood outside holding flowers.
Behind her, the corridor was empty.
“Flowers,” I whispered.
“Do not take them.”
“They are with hotel staff.”
“Elena.”
The employee knocked again.
I opened the door with the security chain in place.
“Yes?”
She smiled.
“A delivery for you.”
“From whom?”
“There is a card.”
“Leave them outside.”
Her smile faltered.
“Of course.”
I closed the door and waited.
After her footsteps disappeared, I called the front desk and confirmed that the delivery had come through the hotel.
Only then did I open the door.
The arrangement contained white roses.
The same flowers Adrian had given me after each child was born.
The same flowers he sent whenever he missed an anniversary or forgot a promise.
I removed the card.
There were no printed words.
Only handwriting.
You took something that does not belong to you.
Return the black folder before your children lose more than money.
I read it twice.
My hands began to shake.
“Mara.”
“What does it say?”
I read the message aloud.
Silence.
Then her voice changed.
“Take the children and go downstairs.”
“What?”
“Now.”
I opened Noah’s bedroom door.
He was sitting on the bed with the television muted.
He had heard me.
“What happened?”
“Put on your shoes.”
“Mom—”
“Shoes, Noah.”
I lifted Lily from the bed and wrapped her in a blanket.
We went downstairs using the service elevator after Mara called hotel security.
The manager locked us inside a private office.
Police arrived twenty minutes later.
They collected the flowers and the card.
They questioned the delivery employee.
She had received the arrangement from a courier outside.
The courier wore a cap and mask.
No one had requested identification.
Daniel joined the call with Italian counsel.
The hotel moved us to another property under a false reservation.
By midnight, Lily was asleep again.
Noah was not.
He sat beside me on the edge of the bed.
“What is in the black folder?”
“Documents.”
“Why does someone want them?”
“Because they prove something.”
“What?”
“That your father moved money he should not have moved.”
Noah stared at the carpet.
“Dad sent the flowers.”
“I don’t know.”
“He always sends white roses.”
“Other people know that.”
“Grandma Victoria knows.”
I looked at him.
He had inherited Adrian’s ability to observe, but not his cruelty.
“Why did Dad take our money?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Did he hate us?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Some questions had no answer that would not injure a child.
“Your father made choices based on what he wanted, not on what they would do to other people.”
“That sounds like hate.”
“It sounds like selfishness.”
“Is there a difference?”
I had no honest response.
He lay beside Lily but remained awake for another hour.
At 2:17 in the morning, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Elena?”
The voice was male.
Breathless.
Familiar.
“Julian?”
“Do not hang up.”
I stood and moved into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
“How did you get this number?”
“I have always had your number.”
“What happened?”
He laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“Everything.”
“Are the children all right?” he asked.
The question disarmed me.
“They are here.”
“Keep them away from Adrian.”
“I already planned to.”
“No, you do not understand.”
His breathing was uneven.
“Julian, where are you?”
“Outside St. Catherine’s.”
“The hospital?”
“Celeste was taken into surgery.”
My anger collided with confusion.
“Is the baby—”
“Alive.”
“What happened?”
He did not answer.
Instead, he said, “The baby is mine.”
I leaned against the sink.
For a moment, I heard only the faint hum of the bathroom fan.
“What?”
“The genetic tests showed Adrian cannot be the father.”
I closed my eyes.
The betrayal should have satisfied me.
It did not.
It felt too cruel, even for him.
“Does Adrian know?”
“Everyone knows.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because Celeste was never supposed to choose him.”
I opened my eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“She was supposed to get close to him.”
“For you?”
“No.”
“Then for whom?”
Julian lowered his voice.
“I do not know.”
“You slept with a woman involved in some plan, and you do not know who sent her?”
“I did not know there was a plan.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No. I expect you to believe this.”
He paused.
“The villa Adrian bought was not for Celeste.”
I gripped the phone.
“I found the photograph.”
“The photograph was staged.”
“The note was in his handwriting.”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I am saying Adrian thought he was buying her a house.”
Cold moved across my skin.
“But he wasn’t?”
“No.”
“Who owns it?”
“A company that does not officially exist.”
“That means nothing.”
“It means the same company received money from your children’s trust.”
I stopped breathing.
Julian continued.
“And it means Celeste was terrified when she discovered you had the black folder.”
“How do you know about the folder?”
“Because she called me before the hospital appointment.”
“What did she say?”
“She said Adrian had made a mistake leaving the documents at home.”
“Did she send the flowers?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what do you know?”
His voice broke.
“I know she was not crying because Adrian learned the baby was mine.”
I waited.
“She was crying because the doctor discovered the blood disorder.”
“That makes sense.”
“No. You still do not understand.”
Julian lowered his voice further.
“The mutation did not come from her.”
I stared at my reflection.
“What are you saying?”
“It came from me.”
“You said you are the father.”
“I am.”
“Then why is that strange?”
“Because I was tested as a child.”
My mouth went dry.
“The Blackwood family maintains genetic records.”
“Yes.”
“The doctor said your profile carried the mutation.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“So the profile they have for me is not the profile from my childhood.”
I pressed the phone against my ear.
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone replaced my genetic record.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Behind me, someone knocked softly on the bathroom door.
Noah.
“Mom?”
“One minute.”
Julian’s voice came urgently.
“Elena, listen to me. The company connected to the villa has a registered director.”
“Who?”
“A woman named Sofia Moretti.”
“I have never heard of her.”
“You have.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He took a breath.
“Sofia Moretti was your mother’s name before she married your father.”
The room seemed to tilt.
My mother had died six years earlier.
She had never met Celeste.
She had never known the Blackwoods before my marriage.
And she had certainly never directed a foreign company created to steal from her grandchildren.
“That is impossible,” I whispered.
“I checked the registration myself.”
“My mother is dead.”
“I know.”
“Then someone used her identity.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
The line crackled.
Julian suddenly stopped speaking.
“Julian?”
I heard a car door close on his end.
Then footsteps.
“Elena, I have to go.”
“Wait.”
“Do not trust anyone who tells you this is only about Adrian’s affair.”
“Who is there?”
He did not answer.
“Julian?”
His voice returned in a whisper.
“They found me.”
The call ended.
I immediately called back.
The number no longer existed.
A second later, a message appeared from an unknown sender.
It contained a photograph.
Julian was standing outside the hospital, speaking on the phone.
The image had been taken only moments earlier.
May you like
Below it were six words.
Your mother’s secrets belong to us.
