Chapter 4 - THE PINK BEDROOMBy the time Adrian and Sofia reached the Moretti estate, midnight had passed.
Every exterior light was on.
Marco had turned the mansion into a fortress.
Sofia barely waited for the car to stop.
She ran inside.
“Emma!”
Her voice echoed through the marble foyer.
A tiny figure appeared at the top of the staircase.
“Mommy!”
Emma ran down barefoot.
Sofia dropped to her knees.
She caught her daughter and held her so tightly Emma squeaked.
“You’re crushing Daisy.”
Sofia laughed and sobbed at the same time.
“I’m sorry.”
Emma touched the bruise beside Sofia’s mouth.
“You fell again?”
Sofia closed her eyes.
Adrian watched from several feet away.
This time Sofia did not lie.
“No, baby.”
Emma’s eyes became serious.
“The bad man?”
“Yes.”
Emma looked at Adrian.
“Mr. Stone got you.”
Sofia glanced back.
“Yes.”
Emma smiled.
“I knew he would.”
That trust landed like a weight across Adrian’s shoulders.
The child barely knew him.
Yet somehow she expected him to keep promises he was not certain he deserved to make.
Marco approached.
“Boss. We need to talk.”
Adrian nodded toward the office.
Sofia stood.
“Emma and I should leave.”
“No.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Mr. Moretti—”
“Adrian.”
She paused.
He did not know why he had corrected her.
Perhaps hearing her call him Mr. Moretti after everything at Rossi’s club suddenly sounded wrong.
“You’re not going back to Cicero.”
“I can’t stay here.”
“You can tonight.”
“Lucian comes here.”
“Not anymore.”
Sofia stared.
“You think he won’t notice?”
“I’m counting on it.”
Marco glanced between them.
Adrian continued.
“Your apartment is compromised. Rossi knows where you live. Lucian may know too.”
Sofia wrapped both arms around Emma.
“And you think this place is safer?”
Adrian looked around the mansion.
Once, he had believed no place on earth was safer.
Then Elena and Claire died.
“No.”
His honesty surprised her.
“But I can control this place.”
Emma tugged Sofia’s sleeve.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Can Daisy sleep in the pink room?”
Silence.
Adrian’s head snapped toward her.
Sofia’s face drained.
“What pink room?”
Emma pointed upstairs.
“The little girl’s room.”
Adrian stopped breathing.
Marco stiffened.
Nobody had entered Claire’s bedroom in three years except Adrian.
And even Adrian only opened the door once every few months.
“How do you know about that room?”
Emma shrank against Sofia.
“I’m sorry.”
Adrian immediately regretted his tone.
He crouched.
“I’m not angry.”
“You said don’t go there.”
“I did.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then how do you know?”
Emma pointed at Daisy.
“She went.”
Marco looked confused.
Adrian did not.
Children had logic adults were not invited to understand.
“How did Daisy go?”
Emma whispered, “Under the door.”
Adrian looked upstairs.
Claire’s room door had almost no gap beneath it.
Unless—
The old connecting passage.
His heart tightened.
The Moretti mansion had been built in the 1920s. Several rooms included servants’ doors hidden behind paneling.
Most had been sealed during renovations.
Claire’s bedroom shared one with the linen corridor beside the kitchen stairs.
Adrian had forgotten.
Emma took his hand.
“Come.”
Sofia whispered, “Emma, no.”
But Adrian was already moving.
The hidden corridor smelled like dust.
Emma led them behind a linen cabinet.
A narrow wooden panel stood slightly open.
Adrian pushed it.
Claire’s room waited on the other side.
Nothing had changed.
Pink curtains.
White bed.
Stuffed rabbit near the pillow.
A sweater across the chair.
Adrian’s knees almost failed.
Three years disappeared.
He saw Claire jumping on the bed.
Daddy, look!
Elena laughing from the doorway.
You’re encouraging her.
Always.
Adrian gripped the doorframe.
Sofia touched his arm.
He flinched.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Emma walked into the room.
She moved carefully.
Almost reverently.
She picked up Daisy from the floor.
“I told you.”
Adrian looked.
The rag doll had indeed fallen through the hidden opening.
Then Emma noticed something else.
A music box on Claire’s dresser.
Pink porcelain.
Silver ballerina.
She approached it.
Adrian’s voice came out rough.
“Don’t.”
Emma froze.
He closed his eyes.
Too sharp again.
“Sorry.”
She turned.
“Was it hers?”
“Yes.”
“Your little girl?”
Adrian nodded.
“What was her name?”
“Claire.”
Emma looked at the music box.
“Can Claire hear it in heaven?”
Sofia’s eyes filled.
Adrian could not speak.
Emma lifted the lid.
A slow melody filled the room.
Claire’s favorite.
Adrian looked away.
Then Emma did something unexpected.
She placed Daisy beside the music box.
“So she has somebody.”
Adrian broke.
Not loudly.
No sob.
No collapse.
Just one tear.
Then another.
Sofia saw him wipe them away.
She did not pretend not to.
Emma climbed onto Claire’s rug and sat cross-legged.
“Mommy says people don’t disappear if somebody remembers them.”
Adrian looked at Sofia.
She lowered her eyes.
Emma patted the floor.
“You can sit.”
No employee in Adrian Moretti’s life had ever ordered him to sit on the floor.
He did.
Sofia sat too.
For several minutes, no one spoke.
Then Emma pointed at the bookshelf.
“Can I hear one?”
Adrian followed her finger.
Claire’s storybooks.
He had not opened one since the funeral.
His chest tightened.
“Not tonight.”
Emma nodded.
“Okay.”
No complaint.
No disappointment.
That made him change his mind.
He stood and picked the book Claire had left open before she died.
A children’s story about a fox searching for home.
Adrian sat on the edge of the bed.
Emma climbed beside Sofia.
He began reading.
His voice cracked on the first page.
By the third, it steadied.
At some point, Marco quietly closed the hidden panel and left them alone.
When the story ended, Emma was asleep against Sofia’s side.
Sofia looked at Adrian.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Letting her be a child.”
Adrian looked at Emma.
“She doesn’t get to be one often.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you had no food.”
Sofia stiffened.
“I had food.”
“Moldy bread isn’t food.”
Her cheeks flushed.
“I manage.”
“You work two jobs.”
“Three.”
Adrian stared.
“What?”
“I clean two offices on Sunday evenings.”
His jaw tightened.
“I pay you well.”
“Yes.”
“So where does it go?”
Her expression closed.
“Rossi.”
“How much?”
“Most of it.”
“For three years?”
She nodded.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Because I didn’t know if you were involved.”
Adrian absorbed that.
“You thought I might have killed Daniel.”
“At first.”
He looked at her.
“And now?”
Sofia glanced toward the sleeping child.
“Now I know you wouldn’t threaten Emma.”
Not exactly an answer.
But close enough.
Adrian stood.
“You said Daniel hid evidence somewhere Emma could lead us.”
Sofia nodded.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“He told you nothing?”
“He said one sentence before he left the apartment the night he died.”
“What sentence?”
Sofia’s face tightened with memory.
“Follow what our little bird remembers.”
Adrian frowned.
“Little bird?”
“He called Emma that.”
Adrian looked at the sleeping toddler.
She was three now.
Daniel died more than three years ago.
“She was a baby.”
“Five months.”
“She can’t remember anything.”
“I know.”
“Then what did he mean?”
“I’ve asked myself that every day.”
A knock sounded.
Marco entered.
“Boss.”
Adrian recognized the look.
“What?”
“We have a visitor.”
“At one in the morning?”
“He insisted.”
“Who?”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“Lucian.”
Sofia stood so fast Emma stirred.
Adrian put a finger to his lips.
Then he turned toward Marco.
“Where is he?”
“Foyer.”
“Alone?”
“Two guards.”
Adrian looked back at Sofia.
“Stay here.”
She grabbed his wrist.
“He can’t see Emma.”
“He won’t.”
“Adrian.”
He looked down at her hand around him.
She released it.
“Be careful.”
The words felt unfamiliar.
No one had said them to him in years.
Not like that.
He entered the foyer alone.
Lucian stood beneath the chandelier wearing a charcoal overcoat and a concerned expression.
He looked exactly as Adrian remembered from childhood.
Handsome.
Polished.
Trustworthy.
“Brother.”
Adrian stopped halfway down the stairs.
“What are you doing here?”
Lucian spread his hands.
“I heard someone hit Rossi’s club.”
Adrian said nothing.
Lucian continued.
“Rumor says it was you.”
“Rumors say lots of things.”
Lucian smiled.
“Are we pretending now?”
Adrian descended the final steps.
“What do you want?”
Lucian studied him.
“You look different.”
“Do I?”
“Alive.”
The word cut deeper than Lucian could know.
Adrian’s face stayed blank.
Lucian glanced upstairs.
Then his gaze stopped.
A tiny pink sock lay on one stair.
Emma had lost it when running to Sofia.
Lucian stared.
His smile disappeared.
“What is that?”
Adrian followed his gaze.
“Laundry.”
“Pink?”
“Sometimes fabric comes in colors.”
Lucian looked at him again.
Then something changed in his expression.
Just for one second.
Fear.
Adrian saw it.
Lucian smiled again.
“Are you hiding something from me, brother?”
Adrian took one slow step closer.
“Yes.”
Lucian’s eyebrow lifted.
“What?”
May you like
Adrian smiled without warmth.
“The fact that I’m done sleeping.”
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