Chapter 3 - THE SECRET HER MOTHER DIED PROTECTING
Nicholas did not ask Sophie to come with him.
He told her.
That distinction became the subject of an argument lasting eleven minutes.
“You don't own me.”
“I know.”
“You don't get to relocate me because someone broke into my apartment.”
“That sentence makes less sense than you think.”
“I have work tomorrow.”
“Not anymore.”
Sophie's eyes narrowed.
“What did you do?”
“I called your library director.”
“You called my boss?”
“I donated enough money to replace the children's reading room roof.”
Sophie stared at him.
“You bribed my employer.”
“Donation.”
“To kidnap me politely.”
“To keep you alive.”
“That is not better.”
Nicholas stood in the center of her wrecked apartment with the patience of a man who was not accustomed to explaining himself.
His men had removed the intruder.
Sophie had not asked where.
She suspected she would dislike the answer.
Nicholas gestured toward a suitcase one of his men had placed beside the door.
“You need clothing.”
“I'm not going anywhere.”
Nicholas walked closer.
“Sophie.”
“No.”
“Someone has been photographing you for weeks.”
That silenced her.
He lowered his voice.
“They knew where you lived. They knew about your mother. They knew about the necklace. Tonight they entered your home looking for it.”
Sophie touched the compass.
“Why?”
“I intend to find out.”
“You mean we intend to find out.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Nicholas.”
“No.”
She folded her arms.
He folded his.
They stared at each other.
One of his security men quietly left the room.
Sophie almost laughed.
“Did your bodyguard just leave because he doesn't want to watch you lose an argument?”
“I don't lose arguments.”
“You're about to.”
Twenty minutes later, Sophie was sitting in the back of Nicholas's armored SUV.
Nicholas stared through the window.
She smiled.
“Say it.”
“No.”
“You lost.”
“I protected you.”
“By losing.”
His mouth twitched.
They drove north through the sleeping city.
Sophie expected a mansion.
She did not expect a fortress disguised as one.
Falcone House stood behind stone walls and iron gates on several wooded acres. Cameras followed the SUV as it traveled up the driveway.
The mansion itself was old.
Not flashy.
Dark stone.
Tall windows.
Warm lights glowing behind curtains.
Nicholas escorted Sophie inside.
The foyer was enormous.
A sweeping staircase curved toward the second floor. Oil paintings lined the walls.
Sophie stopped before one.
A family portrait.
Nicholas at perhaps sixteen.
His father.
His mother.
And the young man from the photograph.
“Your brother?”
“Gabriel.”
“He looks like you.”
“He would have considered that an insult.”
Sophie smiled faintly.
Nicholas did too.
Then a woman's voice interrupted them.
“You brought her here?”
Nicholas went still.
A beautiful woman in her late fifties stood at the top of the stairs.
Silver threaded her dark hair.
Her posture was perfect.
Her expression was not welcoming.
“Mother.”
So this was Isabella Falcone.
Her eyes moved to Sophie.
Then immediately to the compass around Sophie's neck.
The color drained from her face.
“Where did you get that?”
Sophie touched it.
“My mother.”
Isabella descended slowly.
“What was her name?”
Nicholas stepped forward.
“Mother.”
“What was her name?”
“Evelyn Carter.”
Isabella stopped three stairs from the bottom.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then Isabella whispered, “Dear God.”
Sophie looked at Nicholas.
“You said my mother worked for your father's company.”
“She did.”
Isabella came closer.
“She was more than that.”
Nicholas turned sharply.
“What?”
His mother looked at him.
“You never knew?”
“Knew what?”
Isabella's expression changed.
Regret.
“She worked with Gabriel.”
Nicholas became perfectly still.
“Doing what?”
“Trying to destroy your father.”
The silence that followed seemed to swallow the entire house.
Sophie stared.
Nicholas's father, Salvatore Falcone, had died eight years earlier. Even Sophie knew the name. He had built the Falcone empire and carried a reputation far darker than his son's.
Nicholas spoke quietly.
“Explain.”
Isabella walked into the library.
They followed.
She poured herself water with hands that trembled slightly.
“Your father wasn't simply moving illegal money. He had begun stealing from his own partners.”
Nicholas said nothing.
“Gabriel discovered it. He believed eventually those partners would retaliate against the entire family.”
“So he worked with Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
“To expose him?”
“To build evidence.”
Sophie sat slowly.
“My mother?”
“She was brilliant with numbers.”
Isabella looked at Sophie.
“She found accounts nobody else knew existed. Payments. Judges. Police officers. Businessmen.”
Sophie struggled to connect this woman with the mother she remembered packing sandwiches before school.
“She never told me anything.”
“She was protecting you.”
“From whom?”
Isabella looked toward Nicholas.
“Everyone.”
Nicholas paced toward the fireplace.
“Gabriel died before he could expose Father.”
“Yes.”
“And Evelyn?”
“She disappeared from our world immediately afterward.”
“My mother didn't disappear,” Sophie said. “She raised me.”
“I mean from ours.”
Isabella's eyes lowered to the necklace.
“She took something with her.”
Nicholas turned.
“The key.”
Isabella nodded.
Sophie removed the compass.
“This?”
“Gabriel gave it to her.”
Nicholas crossed the room.
He took the pendant carefully.
A tiny seam ran along one edge.
He pressed it.
Nothing.
Sophie frowned.
“My mother told me never to open it.”
Nicholas looked at her.
“You knew it opened?”
“She said it was broken.”
Nicholas examined the back.
There was a tiny indentation.
He walked to a desk, removed a thin letter opener, and pressed the point into it.
The compass separated.
Inside was a tiny brass key.
Sophie stopped breathing.
Nicholas stared at it.
Fifteen years.
His brother's death.
His father's secrets.
Everything suddenly compressed into an object smaller than his thumb.
“What does it open?” Sophie asked.
Isabella shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Nicholas looked at his mother.
“But Gabriel did.”
“Yes.”
“And Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
Sophie remembered something.
“My mother had a storage unit.”
Nicholas turned.
“What?”
“After she died, I found receipts. I assumed she'd emptied it because I never found a key.”
“Where?”
“South Harbor.”
Nicholas was already reaching for his phone.
Isabella grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“If someone knows Sophie has the key, they'll be watching every place connected to Evelyn.”
“Then we don't go directly.”
“We?”
Sophie stood.
Nicholas shook his head.
“No.”
She smiled without humor.
“We've already had this argument.”
Two hours later, Nicholas's team confirmed the storage facility still existed.
Unit 317 remained registered under Evelyn Carter.
Its rent had been prepaid.
For twenty years.
Nobody could explain by whom.
They waited until dawn.
Nicholas insisted on a security convoy.
Sophie insisted she was coming.
At seven fifteen, they entered the storage building through a rear loading entrance.
Unit 317 looked ordinary.
Dusty metal door.
Faded number.
Sophie inserted the brass key.
It fit.
Nicholas placed one hand over hers.
“Wait.”
She looked at him.
“If there's anything dangerous behind that door—”
“Then you'll stand in front of me?”
“Yes.”
“That seems sexist.”
“That seems practical.”
Despite the fear in her chest, Sophie smiled.
Together they turned the key.
The lock clicked.
Nicholas raised the door.
Inside sat one object.
A wooden desk.
Nothing else.
Sophie walked toward it.
There was an envelope on top.
Her name was written across the front.
Sophie.
She knew the handwriting immediately.
Her knees almost gave out.
“My mother.”
Nicholas stayed beside her.
Sophie opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter.
My darling Sophie,
If you're reading this, then either I failed to protect you from my past, or Nicholas Falcone finally found the truth.
Sophie looked at him.
Nicholas looked equally stunned.
She continued.
You may be frightened of him.
Don't be.
If Nicholas is standing beside you, then Gabriel was right about his brother.
Nicholas turned away for a moment.
Sophie kept reading.
The evidence is not here.
The key opened this room, but this room is only the beginning.
Gabriel and I knew Salvatore would search every bank, safe, and property we owned.
So we hid the evidence somewhere he would never willingly enter.
Somewhere ordinary people go every day.
Sophie frowned.
Below the sentence was a handwritten number.
823.7.
She stared at it.
Nicholas asked, “What is that?”
Sophie looked up.
For the first time since entering the unit, she smiled.
“A Dewey Decimal number.”
Nicholas blinked.
“A what?”
“A library classification.”
His expression changed.
“The evidence is in your library?”
“Maybe.”
A gunshot exploded outside.
Nicholas shoved Sophie behind the desk.
Another shot struck the metal door.
His security team shouted.
Nicholas drew a handgun from beneath his jacket.
Sophie stared.
“You brought a gun?”
He looked at her incredulously.
“Someone broke into your apartment twelve hours ago.”
“Fair point.”
Gunfire erupted in the corridor.
Nicholas crouched beside her.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Sophie.”
“You get shot, I don't know any of these people.”
He almost smiled.
Then something rolled beneath the storage door.
A small metal cylinder.
Nicholas's expression changed instantly.
“Down!”
He covered Sophie with his body.
Smoke exploded through the room.
Sophie coughed.
Someone outside screamed.
Nicholas pulled her toward the rear wall.
There was nowhere to go.
The smoke thickened.
Then a figure emerged through it.
A man wearing a black mask.
Nicholas raised his weapon.
The attacker stopped.
Slowly, he removed the mask.
Nicholas's gun lowered an inch.
His face went white.
Sophie had never seen him look shocked.
The stranger smiled.
“Hello, little brother.”
May you like
Nicholas whispered one word.
“Gabriel?”
