Chapter 2 - THE LITTLE GIRL WHO NOTICED TOO MUCH
Dante Moretti had forgotten business meetings, birthdays, and entire conversations.
But he knew one thing with absolute certainty.
The pain in his head had become unbearable the moment Victor Hail entered the library.
And now, for the first time, he wondered whether that was a coincidence.
"Anna," Dante said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Put your daughter down."
Anna Miller hesitated.
"Sir, I think we should leave."
"Please."
Something in his expression stopped her.
She lowered Sophie onto the carpet but kept one protective hand on the girl's shoulder.
Dante leaned forward.
"Sweetheart, you said you saw something behind my neck?"
Sophie nodded.
"Like a little bug."
"What kind of bug?"
"The shiny kind."
Victor moved closer.
"Mr. Moretti, this conversation is becoming ridiculous."
Dante raised one hand.
"Let her finish."
Sophie pointed toward his collar.
"It has four little legs. Two here and two here."
She demonstrated with her fingers.
"And it's poking out."
A cold sensation traveled down Dante's spine.
For three years, he had been told the scar behind his neck came from emergency surgery following the explosion.
He had never questioned it.
But nobody had mentioned metal.
"Anna," he said quietly, "there's a mirror on that bookshelf. Bring it here."
Victor's expression hardened.
"That's unnecessary."
"Did I ask you?"
The question landed with enough force to silence the room.
Anna retrieved a small antique mirror.
Dante turned away from her, lifting his dark hair with one hand.
She tilted the glass.
At first, he saw nothing unusual.
Then he adjusted the angle.
Two tiny silver projections were visible beneath the edge of his scar.
They were barely larger than staples.
But they were there.
His stomach tightened.
"What the hell is that?"
Victor stepped forward.
"Surgical anchors. They're perfectly normal."
"Then why wasn't I told?"
"You were. Several times."
Dante looked at him.
"Of course. I forgot."
Victor's expression softened into something resembling sympathy.
"Your memory difficulties are precisely why I manage your medical appointments."
Dante stared at the mirror.
He hated how easily that explanation worked.
Three years of missing memories had taught him to distrust his own mind.
And Victor had always been there to explain what Dante couldn't remember.
Anna watched the exchange with growing unease.
She had worked at the Moretti mansion for six months.
During that time, she had seen Dante suffer migraines so severe that he sometimes remained in his bedroom for days.
She had also noticed something strange.
His worst episodes often followed private meetings with Victor.
Until that afternoon, she had assumed stress was responsible.
Now she wasn't so sure.
"Mr. Moretti," Anna said carefully, "those anchors look irritated."
Victor turned toward her.
"Mrs. Miller, your expertise is housekeeping."
"I worked in an assisted-living facility before coming here. I know what irritated skin looks like."
"And apparently six months of employment has convinced you that you're a surgeon."
Anna's face reddened.
Dante lowered the mirror.
"Enough."
Victor buttoned his jacket.
"I think this situation has gone far enough. Mrs. Miller will collect her belongings and leave tonight."
Anna felt the floor disappear beneath her.
"Please, Mr. Hail. I need this job."
"You should have considered that before allowing your child to interfere with Mr. Moretti's medical treatment."
Sophie clutched her mother's apron.
"Mommy, did I do bad?"
Anna immediately knelt.
"No, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong."
Victor shook his head.
"Unfortunately, your employment agreement is quite clear."
Dante stood.
The sudden movement sent pain shooting behind his eyes.
He caught the back of the sofa.
Anna instinctively reached toward him.
Victor was already there.
"You're having another episode, Dante. Sit down."
But Dante didn't sit.
"Anna stays."
"You're not thinking clearly."
"Then listen carefully."
Dante turned toward his adviser.
"You have managed my medical appointments, my schedule, my staff, and half my business affairs for three years."
"Because you asked me to."
"Maybe I did. But this is still my house."
His voice grew colder.
"And nobody fires a mother because her five-year-old daughter noticed something."
Victor studied him for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
"Of course."
He turned toward Anna.
"My apologies, Mrs. Miller. It seems you've been given another opportunity."
The words sounded polite.
His eyes did not.
A few minutes later, Isabella Romano entered the library carrying Dante's medication.
At thirty-four, Isabella was elegant, composed, and accustomed to moving through the mansion as though it already belonged to her.
She had been Dante's girlfriend for five years.
Before the explosion, they had discussed marriage.
Afterward, Dante could barely remember having those conversations.
"Darling, Victor said you were upset."
She approached and kissed his cheek.
Dante pulled away slightly.
"What medication is that?"
Isabella glanced at the bottle.
"The same one Dr. Bell prescribed."
"What does it do?"
"It helps with the neurological episodes."
"Does it affect my memory?"
She paused.
"Some medications can cause drowsiness."
"That wasn't my question."
Victor intervened.
"Dante, you're upsetting yourself."
Dante looked between them.
He suddenly felt like a stranger sitting in a room where everyone else knew the rules.
"I want to see my complete medical records."
Isabella's fingers tightened around the bottle.
"Why?"
"Because there's metal sticking out of my neck, and apparently I'm the only person surprised by it."
Nobody answered.
Then Sophie spoke.
"Mommy, can I draw?"
Anna blinked at the abrupt change.
"Of course, baby."
Dante pointed toward the desk.
"There's paper in the drawer."
Sophie climbed onto a chair and found a blue crayon among a forgotten box of stationery.
While the adults continued their tense conversation, she began drawing.
Twenty minutes later, Victor finally left to arrange what he called an urgent medical consultation.
Isabella followed him into the hallway.
Anna started gathering the fallen tray.
"Leave that," Dante said.
"Sir?"
"Come here."
She approached cautiously.
Dante studied her face.
"You're afraid of Victor."
Anna didn't answer.
"You don't have to pretend otherwise."
She glanced toward the open doorway.
"He told me when I started that people who caused problems here didn't stay long."
"Has he threatened you before?"
"Not directly."
Dante noticed her hesitation.
"Anna."
She swallowed.
"Last month, I found you sitting outside the library after a meeting with him. You didn't remember calling for dinner. You didn't even remember what day it was."
"I have episodes."
"I know. But when I helped you upstairs, Mr. Hail told me never to discuss what I'd seen."
Dante's expression changed.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I'm a single mother, Mr. Moretti. Sophie needs a home, and this job comes with a small apartment above the garage."
Her voice trembled.
"I can't afford to make enemies."
For a moment, Dante said nothing.
Then he looked toward Sophie.
The little girl was humming quietly as she worked.
"Neither should she."
Sophie slid off the chair and presented her drawing.
"Look, mister."
Dante took the paper.
She had drawn a large head with black hair, a crooked purple neck, and a blue insect with four straight legs.
Beside it stood a tall stick figure wearing a gray coat.
"Who's that?" Dante asked.
"That man."
She pointed toward the hallway.
"Mr. Victor?"
Sophie nodded.
"What's he holding?"
"A little box."
Dante examined the drawing.
The gray figure held a silver rectangle marked with a blue circle.
"Why did you draw a box?"
Sophie looked confused.
"Because he had one."
"When?"
"When your head started hurting."
Dante's breathing slowed.
Anna knelt beside her daughter.
"Sweetheart, are you sure?"
Sophie nodded.
"He squeezed it in his pocket."
She demonstrated with her thumb.
"And the blue light came on."
At that exact moment, a sharp electrical pain shot through Dante's skull.
He gripped the desk.
Anna caught his arm.
And through the narrow opening of the library door, Dante saw Victor standing in the hallway.
May you like
His right hand was closed around a small silver device.
A blue light was blinking between his fingers.
