The mansion alarm screamed through the hallway.
Claire grabbed Lily so quickly that the little girl dropped Oliver, her stuffed rabbit, onto the floor.
“Mommy!”
“I’ve got you.”
Claire pulled her daughter against her chest while red emergency lights began flashing along the ceiling.
Dante Moretti did not move.
For three long seconds, he simply stood beside the bedroom window, staring at the silver cuff link clenched inside his fist.
Then something changed in his face.
Not anger.
Recognition.
And Claire realized that frightened her more.
“Dante,” Rocco said urgently.
“We need to move.”
Dante opened his hand.
The silver cuff link rested against his palm.
A tiny crest had been engraved into its surface: a crown above three crossed arrows.
Claire stared at it.
“What does that symbol mean?”
Dante closed his fingers around it again.
“Nothing you need to know.”
“Someone killed one of your guards.
Marco escaped.
My daughter saw whoever helped him, and that thing was in her pocket.”
Claire stepped closer.
“So I think I need to know.”
Dante looked at her.
Before he could answer, a tremendous crash sounded downstairs.
Lily screamed.
Rocco drew his weapon.
“Stay here.”
He disappeared through the doorway.
Dante immediately crossed the room and locked it behind him.
Then he moved a dresser against the door.
Claire stared.
“What is happening?”
“Security breach.”
“Marco?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Dante crossed to the window and looked into the courtyard.
Men were running between buildings.
A black SUV accelerated toward the eastern gate.
Someone shouted.
The gate began closing.
Too late.
The SUV smashed through the half-lowered barrier and disappeared down the road.
Dante watched it go.
His jaw tightened.
“Marco,” he whispered.
Claire felt Lily trembling.
The child had buried her face against her mother’s shoulder.
“I want to go home.”
The words nearly broke Claire.
Their little apartment above the servants’ wing had felt like home yesterday.
Now Claire understood something terrible.
There was no home anymore.
Not while Marco knew Lily had identified him.
Not while someone inside Dante’s estate had helped him escape.
And certainly not while the owner of that silver cuff link remained unknown.
Dante turned from the window.
“You and Lily are leaving.”
Claire blinked.
“Leaving where?”
“Somewhere Marco doesn’t know.”
“I’m taking her to my sister.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Claire stiffened.
“You don’t decide where my daughter goes.”
“Your sister lives forty minutes away in a house listed under her own name.”
Claire froze.
Dante continued quietly.
“If Marco wants Lily, that is the first place he’ll look.”
Claire hated that he was right.
She hated even more that Dante already knew where her sister lived.
“You investigated me?”
“I investigate everyone who works inside my house.”
“I clean bathrooms.”
“You also sleep under my roof.”
His eyes moved toward Lily.
“And now your daughter is the only witness who saw Marco with whoever helped him.”
Claire looked down at Lily.
Three years old.
Yellow pajamas.
One sock missing.
A stuffed rabbit lying forgotten on the carpet.
She looked nothing like a witness.
She looked like what she was.
A little girl who should have been worried about cartoons and strawberry cereal.
Not assassins.
Not trackers.
Not dead guards.
Claire’s voice cracked.
“What happens if Marco finds her?”
Dante did not answer.
He did not need to.
—
Twenty minutes later, Claire and Lily were inside an armored SUV leaving the Moretti estate through a service road.
Dante sat opposite them.
Rocco drove.
Two additional vehicles followed.
Claire had been allowed to pack one small bag.
Lily had insisted on bringing her crayons.
Including another red one.
Claire almost threw the box away.
Instead, she put it inside Lily’s backpack.
Rain began tapping against the windows.
“Where are we going?”
Claire asked.
“A safe house.”
“Where?”
“If you don’t know, you can’t tell anyone.”
Claire gave him a hard look.
“I’m beginning to understand why people dislike you.”
For the first time that afternoon, Dante almost smiled.
“Only beginning?”
Lily peeked at him.
“Mr.
Dante?”
“Yes?”
“Are you mad at Mr.
Marco?”
Dante’s expression changed.
“Very.”
“Because he put the blinking thing under your car?”
“Yes.”
Lily thought about this.
Then she shook her head.
“He didn’t.”
Silence filled the SUV.
Claire slowly looked at her daughter.
“What?”
Lily was drawing on a small notebook balanced against her knees.
“Mr.
Marco didn’t put it there.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Lily.”
She continued coloring.
“Sweetheart,” Claire said, “you told us you saw Marco beside the car.”
“I did.”
“Then what was he doing?”
Lily lifted the paper.
She had drawn the black sedan again.
Marco stood beside it.
But now there was another figure.
Smaller.
Bent down near the rear wheel.
Dante stared at the picture.
“Who is that?”
“The other man.”
Claire felt cold.
“You saw two people?”
Lily nodded.
“Mr.
Marco said, ‘Hurry.’”
Dante’s eyes met Claire’s.
“Did you see the other man’s face?”
Lily frowned.
“He had a hat.”
“What kind?”
“Funny hat.”
Dante looked toward Rocco.
“Uniform?”
Rocco glanced in the mirror.
“Could be security.”
Dante returned his attention to Lily.
“What color was it?”
“Blue.”
Rocco’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.
Moretti estate security wore black.
Maintenance staff wore gray.
Only one group wore dark blue.
The drivers.
Dante pulled out his phone.
“Get me the full driver roster.”
Rocco’s phone rang before Dante finished speaking.
He answered through the vehicle system.
“Go.”
A man’s voice came through.
“We found something in Marco’s room.”
“What?”
“A burner phone.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Any messages?”
“Mostly wiped.
One survived.”
“Read it.”
A pause.
Then:
“The child saw too much.
Move before Moretti understands the crest.”
Claire stopped breathing.
Lily continued coloring.
Dante’s face went completely still.
“Timestamp?”
“Fourteen minutes ago.”
Marco had already escaped by then.
Claire whispered, “Someone inside the house sent that.”
Dante nodded.
“Yes.”
“And they know about the cuff link.”
“Yes.”
“Whose crest is it?”
This time Dante answered.
“My family’s.”
Claire stared at him.
“What?”
Dante slowly opened his hand.
The cuff link caught the dim light.
“The Moretti family used that crest decades ago.
My grandfather had it engraved on rings, watches, cuff links.”
“So it belongs to you?”
“No.”
His eyes hardened.
“My grandfather stopped using it after my father died.”
Claire frowned.
“When was that?”
“Twenty-six years ago.”
A strange silence followed.
Then Lily spoke.
“The man had one.”
Dante looked at her.
“What?”
“The other man.”
She pointed toward Dante’s hand.
“Shiny thing.”
Claire felt goose bumps rise along her arms.
“You saw the cuff link on him?”
Lily nodded.
“It fell.”
That explained how it ended up in her pajama pocket.
She must have found it near the courtyard after the men left.
Dante looked toward the rain-darkened road.
For the first time, Claire saw something beneath his controlled expression.
Not fear.
Memory.
—
The safe house stood behind a stone wall near the northern edge of the estate’s private woodland.
It was smaller than Claire expected.
No mansion.
No marble floors.
Just an old two-story house surrounded by pine trees.
But six armed guards waited outside.
Inside, Rocco checked every room personally.
Dante remained in the kitchen while Claire made Lily something to eat.
Peanut butter toast.
It felt absurdly ordinary.
Lily sat at the table swinging her legs.
Dante stood by the window.
Claire finally said, “Tell me about your father.”
He did not turn.
“That isn’t relevant.”
“The cuff link belonged to your family.”
Silence.
“Dante.”
He looked at her.
“My father was killed when I was twelve.”
Claire’s anger softened.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Something in the way he said it told her he no longer believed that.
“And the crest?”
“My grandfather blamed the old family business for destroying us.
After my father’s funeral, he ordered every piece bearing that symbol melted down.”
“Every piece?”
“That’s what I was told.”
Claire looked toward Lily.
The child had stopped eating.
She was staring at Dante.
“What?” he asked.
Lily pointed toward him.
“Your daddy isn’t dead.”
The room froze.
Claire immediately shook her head.
“Lily, honey, don’t say things like that.”
“But he isn’t.”
Dante slowly approached the table.
“Why did you say that?”
Lily shrugged.
“The man said so.”
Claire’s heartbeat accelerated.
“What man?”
“The shiny man.”
Dante crouched.
“The man you saw with Marco?”
Lily nodded.
“What exactly did he say?”
Lily squeezed her toast.
“Mr.
Marco said, ‘Dante thinks you’re dead.’”
Nobody spoke.
Claire stared at Dante.
All color had disappeared from his face.
Then Lily added:
“And the man said…”
She frowned, trying to remember.
“Good.
My son should keep believing that.”
Dante stood so abruptly that the chair behind him tipped over.
Claire covered her mouth.
Rocco entered from the hallway.
“What happened?”
Dante could barely speak.
“My father.”
Rocco stared.
“What?”
“Lily heard the man call me his son.”
“That’s impossible.”
Dante turned toward him.
“Is it?”
Rocco had no answer.
Dante pulled out his phone.
“Get everything on my father’s accident.”
“Boss, that was twenty-six years ago.”
“Everything.”
“Police reports?”
“Everything.”
“Medical records?”
“Everything.”
“Burial?”
Dante stopped.
Claire saw the realization strike him.
“Especially burial.”
—
Three hours later, the rain had become a storm.
Lily was asleep upstairs.
Claire sat beside her.
She had refused to leave the room.
Downstairs, Dante and Rocco were digging through records that should have remained buried forever.
At 10:17 p.m., Claire heard footsteps.
Dante appeared in the doorway.
His face looked different.
Older.
“What did you find?”
He handed her a photocopied document.
Claire scanned it.
Death certificate.
Vittorio Moretti.
Age thirty-seven.
Cause of death: traumatic injuries following vehicle collision.
Then Claire noticed something.
“No autopsy?”
Dante shook his head.
“My grandfather refused.”
“Did you see the body?”
“I was twelve.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Dante looked away.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I was told the injuries were too severe.”
Claire lowered the paper.
“And the burial?”
“Closed casket.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Dante…”
“I know.”
He walked toward the window.
“For twenty-six years, I believed my father died on a mountain road.”
“Maybe he did.”
Dante turned.
“Then who was Marco meeting?”
Claire had no answer.
A tiny voice came from the bed.
“He had a scar.”
Both adults turned.
Lily’s eyes were open.
Claire hurried to her.
“You should be sleeping.”
“The man had a scar.”
Dante approached.
“Where?”
Lily touched the side of her face.
“Here.”
From her temple toward her jaw.
Dante’s expression shattered.
Claire had never seen him lose control before.
He gripped the windowsill.
“My father had a scar there.”
Claire stared at him.
“From what?”
“A boating accident when he was eighteen.”
The storm rumbled outside.
Then Dante’s phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
He looked at the screen.
A photograph had arrived.
Dante opened it.
Claire saw his hand begin to tremble.
The image was old.
A boy stood beside a black car.
Twelve years old.
Dark hair.
Serious eyes.
Dante.
Beside him stood a tall man with one hand resting on the boy’s shoulder.
His face had been partially burned in the photograph.
But one feature remained visible.
A long scar along his cheek.
Below the image was a message.
YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO FIND OUT THIS WAY.
A second message appeared.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHAT HAPPENED ON OCTOBER 14, 2000.
Dante stared at the screen.
“My mother died five years ago.”
Then a third message arrived.
NO, SHE DIDN’T.
Claire felt the room tilt.
Dante called the number.
Disconnected.
Rocco came running upstairs.
“Boss.”
Dante handed him the phone.
Rocco read the messages.
“What the hell?”
“Trace it.”
“I’m already trying.”
Then Rocco’s own phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“What?”
Dante demanded.
Rocco slowly lowered the phone.
“We have another problem.”
“What?”
“The cemetery.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
“What about it?”
“I sent two men to verify your parents’ burial records.”
“And?”
“Your mother’s grave was opened.”
Claire whispered, “Opened?”
Rocco nodded.
“The coffin is empty.”
Dante stared at him.
“And my father?”
Rocco hesitated.
“That one was opened too.”
Dante stepped closer.
“Say it.”
“It’s empty.”
Thunder shook the windows.
For twenty-six years, Dante Moretti had believed his father was dead.
For five years, he had believed the same about his mother.
Both graves were empty.
—
At 11:42 p.m., the power went out.
The safe house plunged into darkness.
Claire grabbed Lily.
“Dante!”
Emergency lights flickered on.
Rocco shouted from downstairs.
“Perimeter breach!”
Dante reached the bedroom instantly.
“Closet.”
Claire shook her head.
“I’m not putting her in—”
“Claire.”
Something in his voice stopped her.
“Take Lily into the closet.
Lock the interior door.
Do not open it unless you hear me.”
Claire picked up her daughter.
Lily was crying now.
“Mommy, I’m scared.”
“I know.”
Dante crouched in front of her.
“Lily.”
She looked at him.
“Remember what you did today?”
She sniffed.
“Colored your car?”
Despite everything, Dante smiled.
“Yes.”
“You were brave.”
“I ruined it.”
“You saved my life.”
Lily blinked.
Dante touched one finger gently to her crayon box.
“So keep drawing, okay?”
Claire pulled Lily into the closet.
The reinforced door closed.
Darkness.
For several minutes, Claire heard almost nothing.
Footsteps.
Muffled voices.
A crash somewhere downstairs.
Then silence.
Too
Source: Stories of Destiny · Thanh Thanh
