Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH THEY DIDN'T WANT ME TO SEE
“What exactly wasn't my son supposed to remember?”
Dante's voice was quiet.
That made it frightening.
Vivian released his arm.
“Dante, please. Matteo is overwhelmed. This isn't the place.”
“Then explain it somewhere else.”
She looked at the boy.
Matteo was holding my fingers now.
Not tightly.
Just enough to make sure I hadn't disappeared.
“Danny came back,” he repeated.
I crouched beside him.
“You remember Danny?”
He nodded.
“Blue coat. Yellow scarf.”
My eyes burned.
“Did he make you laugh?”
Matteo considered the question.
Then, very quietly, he said, “Funny faces.”
I covered my mouth.
Danny used to make ridiculous faces whenever someone seemed upset.
He would cross his eyes, puff out his cheeks, and wait patiently until somebody smiled.
It was one of the things I missed most.
Dante watched me.
“You really are his sister.”
“Yes.”
“My security chief identified you ten minutes ago.”
I looked toward the tall man standing near the staircase.
He introduced himself as Rafael Serrano.
He carried a tablet but kept it lowered.
“Sophie Vance,” Rafael said. “Twenty-six. Former employee of Harbor House's summer recreation program. Her brother Daniel Vance died in the fire three years ago.”
“Danny,” I corrected.
Everyone looked at me.
“His name was Danny.”
Rafael nodded once.
“Understood.”
Vivian folded her arms.
“Then you can understand why I'm concerned. This woman has a history with the institution. We don't know why she approached Matteo.”
I stared at her.
“Because he was frightened.”
“You expect us to believe you happened to recognize him?”
“I didn't recognize him.”
Vivian gave Dante a pointed look.
“Grief can make people desperate.”
That sentence hurt more than I expected.
Dante saw it.
“Enough.”
But Vivian wasn't finished.
“Her family accused Harbor House of negligence. She was removed from the property after trying to access restricted records.”
I felt my face growing hot.
“They wouldn't let me collect my brother's belongings.”
“You entered an office without permission.”
“I was looking for his blue coat.”
Silence settled over us.
Matteo suddenly tugged at my sleeve.
“Danny's coat,” he said.
Vivian turned pale again.
Dante noticed that too.
“Rafael,” he said, “get the Harbor House files.”
Vivian stepped forward.
“Those records were archived years ago.”
“Then find the archives.”
The authority in his voice ended the discussion.
Or so I thought.
My supervisor appeared beside us, looking furious.
“Miss Vance, you've embarrassed this entire hotel.”
I looked at her.
“There's a child standing right here.”
“You abandoned your station. You broke expensive glass. And now you've involved yourself in a private family matter.”
Dante turned.
“How much is the damage?”
“Sir, that's not—”
“How much?”
She hesitated.
“Perhaps eight hundred dollars.”
Dante took out his phone.
“Rafael, compensate the hotel. And make certain Miss Vance receives her wages.”
I shook my head.
“I don't want his money.”
Dante looked surprised.
“It's your paycheck.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
For a moment, his expression softened.
Then Matteo began pulling at my sleeve again.
He pointed toward the side corridor.
“Quiet.”
I looked at Dante.
“Is there somewhere quieter he can go?”
“My suite is upstairs.”
“Does he want to go there?”
Dante seemed startled by the question.
He crouched.
“Matteo, would you like to go upstairs?”
The boy nodded immediately.
I expected Vivian to accompany them.
Instead, Matteo looked at me.
“Sophie too?”
Vivian opened her mouth.
Dante answered first.
“If she agrees.”
I followed them upstairs because I couldn't leave a frightened child alone with adults who seemed more interested in controlling his memories than understanding them.
The suite was enormous.
But Matteo went straight to a small table beside the window.
There were crayons, headphones, and several folded drawings.
He placed his red-door picture beside them.
Then he pulled an old photograph from underneath a coloring book.
Two children stood in a garden.
One was Matteo, much younger.
The other was a smiling twelve-year-old boy wearing a blue coat and yellow scarf.
Danny.
My brother.
Alive.
Smiling.
I touched the edge of the photograph.
“Where did you get this?”
Matteo pointed toward the door.
“Aunt Vivian gave it back.”
Dante slowly turned toward his sister.
“Back?”
Vivian said nothing.
Rafael entered the room, his phone in his hand.
“Boss. There's something you need to see.”
He showed Dante the screen.
A photograph taken downstairs had already spread across social media.
It showed me kneeling beside Matteo.
The caption read:
DANNY VANCE'S SISTER TAKES MAFIA MONEY TO KEEP THE HARBOR HOUSE TRAGEDY BURIED.
Beneath it, hundreds of strangers were calling me a traitor.
Then Rafael enlarged the photograph.
May you like
In the reflection of a champagne mirror, the person taking the picture was clearly visible.
Vivian's personal assistant.
