Chapter 4 - THE GHOST IN THE EAST WING
The East Wing of the Moretti mansion had been locked for three years. It was where Rosalie’s personal suite was located.
Dominic stood outside the heavy mahogany doors, holding the master keys in one hand and the small silver key Ellie had found in the laundry chute in the other.
The lock clicked open. Dominic pushed the door, and a musty smell of lavender and dust washed over him. The furniture was covered in white sheets, making the room look like a collection of silent, frozen ghosts.
He walked straight to the children's playroom adjoining the suite. There, in the corner, sat a beautiful hand-carved toy chest. In the center of the chest was a small, hidden drawer, embellished with a carving of three stars.
Dominic inserted the silver key Ellie had found. It fit perfectly.
With a soft click, the drawer slid open.
Inside lay a thick leather-bound journal. Dominic opened it. The handwriting was unmistakably Rosalie’s—elegant, sweeping letters that grew increasingly shaky toward the final pages.
October 14th I know Dominic doesn't believe me. Vivian has shown him papers, letters I never wrote. He looks at me with so much suspicion now. But I have to be strong for the children. I found the medicine Dr. Harlan is giving them. It’s not vitamins. It’s poison. I kept a napkin with the liquid on it to test. I must hide it. If Vivian finds out I know...
The journal entry ended abruptly. The next page had only a smear of dried, dark blood.
Dominic’s heart shattered. The evidence had been here all along, locked away by his wife in a desperate attempt to save their children before she was dragged away.
Suddenly, a soft footstep sounded behind him.
Dominic turned, his hand automatically reaching for the holster beneath his arm. But he stopped.
It was Ellie.
She was standing in the doorway, holding a dusty, old children’s book.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Moretti," she said softly. "I didn't mean to intrude. But I thought you should see this."
She walked over and handed him the book. It was a collection of fairy tales. Inside the front cover, there was a handwritten note from Rosalie to her children:
"No matter how dark the forest, the stars will always show you the way home."
"She loved them very much," Ellie said, her young eyes filled with a deep, understanding empathy. "She didn't leave them. She was forced to go. The triplets know it, too. That's why they scream and throw plates. They aren't bad children. They are just trying to tell you that the people around them are monsters."
Dominic looked down at the little girl. In the dark, ruthless world of the mafia, he had never expected a child of a laundry maid to be the one to bring light to his darkest secrets.
"You are very wise for your age, Ellie," Dominic said, his voice thick with emotion.
"When you are small," Ellie replied, "you have to watch the giants very closely to make sure they don't step on you."
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Dominic stood up, tucking the journal into his pocket. His eyes were no longer cold; they were burning with a terrifying, white-hot resolve.
"The giants are about to start falling, Ellie," Dominic said. "Go back to your mother. Tonight, we end this."
