Chapter 2 - The False Bottom
The next morning, Lily hid two pieces of toast inside her coat.
Rosa, the housekeeper, noticed but said nothing.
She simply placed a small paper bag beside Lily’s plate.
“Toast gets crumbs in the lining,” she explained.
Lily stared at her.
“Am I allowed?”
“To save some? Of course.”
“Even if I eat breakfast?”
Rosa’s expression softened.
“Especially then.”
From the doorway, Dante watched Lily place the toast in the bag with the same care other children might give a birthday present.
He stepped away before she noticed him.
Thomas’s condition had worsened overnight. Dr. Marchetti had arranged a hospital transfer before dawn, and Dante had accompanied him while Rosa stayed with Lily.
By morning, Thomas was receiving the treatment he needed, and a physician at the hospital had explained the plan in plain language.
There would be no pretending that a comfortable bedroom could replace proper care.
At ten, an attorney named Evelyn Shaw arrived at the mansion.
She was in her late forties, wore practical shoes, and looked at Dante without the nervous deference he usually inspired.
“Before we begin,” she said, “Mr. Carter is my potential client. You would be paying my fees. Those are separate relationships.”
Dante nodded.
“He needs someone independent.”
“Then he will decide whether to hire me. And if he does, you won’t receive information merely because you paid.”
“Good.”
She studied him for a moment.
“Most people don’t mean that when they say it.”
“I’m trying to.”
They met Thomas at the hospital.
Evelyn spoke with him privately for nearly an hour.
When Dante returned, Thomas looked tired but relieved.
“She asked more questions than you.”
“She’s better at this.”
“I noticed.”
For the first time, Thomas smiled.
That afternoon, Evelyn sat at a small table in the mansion’s drawing room while Lily placed her shoeshine box in front of her.
“Grandpa said you could look,” Lily announced.
“Thank you.”
“But don’t mix the brushes.”
“I won’t.”
Lily demonstrated the latch, removed the polish, and lifted the folded cloths.
Underneath, a narrow wooden panel sat flush against the sides.
Dante had expected something dramatic.
Instead, Evelyn used the edge of a library card to raise it.
Beneath lay a packet wrapped in waxed paper.
There was a property deed.
A letter signed by Antonio Moretti.
Several old payment receipts.
And a photograph of Thomas standing outside a shoe repair shop beside a younger man with Dante’s eyes.
Dante picked up the photograph.
He had thousands of pictures of his father at dinners, ceremonies, and formal family gatherings.
In none of them did Antonio look this relaxed.
His sleeves were rolled up.
One hand rested on Thomas’s shoulder.
They were laughing at something beyond the frame.
Lily leaned closer.
“That’s your daddy?”
“Yes.”
“He looks nicer than the picture in your hallway.”
Dante glanced toward the severe oil portrait near the stairs.
“He probably was.”
Evelyn examined the documents without comment.
Then she looked at the letter.
“To Thomas Carter,” she read quietly. “For a debt no money could properly settle.”
Dante turned away.
Lily noticed.
“Are you sad?”
“A little.”
“Grandpa says you can be sad and still eat lunch.”
“That sounds like good advice.”
“He mostly says it to himself.”
By evening, Evelyn had requested certified records and arranged for a specialist to examine the disputed transfers.
She refused to speculate.
“We have documents,” she told Dante. “Now we establish what they prove.”
“And Victor?”
“You do not confront him.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“People have been telling me what not to do all day.”
“Then perhaps today is going well.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
That night, Victor called.
“Dante. I hear you brought guests home.”
Dante looked through the drawing-room doorway.
Lily sat on the rug while Rosa helped her assemble a puzzle.
“An old friend of my father’s.”
“Your father had many friends.”
“This one remembers him well.”
A pause.
Then Victor laughed softly.
“Memory becomes unreliable with age.”
Dante watched Lily find a corner piece.
“So does judgment,” he said.
After the call ended, he noticed a message from the security office.
Someone had accessed the mansion’s guest information that afternoon.
The request had come from Victor’s assistant.
It included the name of the hospital where Thomas was being treated.
Dante read the message twice.
Then he called Evelyn.
“You were right,” he said.
“About what?”
“If I confront him now, he’ll know what we have.”
Outside, fresh snow began covering the driveway.
May you like
Inside, Dante ordered every staff member to keep the family’s location private.
For the first time in years, he was less concerned with being feared than with making one small girl’s breakfast promise true.
