Chapter 4 - THE CHILD'S DRAWING
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Nico stared at the plane ticket, his hands trembling. "Clara died in a car accident. I identified her myself."
"You identified a woman wearing Clara's wedding ring," Marcus corrected cruelly. "A woman whose car went over a cliff and burned."
He reached the threshold of the dining room. "Keep the heiress," Marcus sneered, nodding toward Sloane. "She was just a pawn anyway."
He turned and bolted down the hall.
Nico didn't chase him. He stood frozen, staring at the name on the boarding pass. Clara Falcone.
Sloane took advantage of the shock, grabbing her purse and rushing toward the back door. I didn't care about Sloane. I cared about the thirteen-year-old girl clutching my hand, her entire world collapsing for the second time in four years.
"Dad?" Ella whimpered. "Is Mom alive?"
Nico turned to her, his tough exterior shattering. "I don't know, principessa."
"She isn't," I said softly.
Nico looked at me, startled.
I gently guided Ella to a chair and knelt in front of her. "Ella, do you remember the drawing you gave me last week? The one you made when you were nine?"
Ella sniffled, nodding slowly.
I looked up at Nico. "When I was altering Ella's dress, she was crying. To calm her down, we talked about her mother. She showed me a drawing she kept hidden in her sketchbook. A drawing of the night her mother died."
Nico frowned. "Ella wasn't there that night. She was home with the nanny."
"No, she wasn't," I said. "Ella, tell your father what you drew."
Ella looked down at her hands, tears spilling over her lashes. "I drew the red coat, Dad. The one the lady was wearing when she came to the house that night. She looked just like Mom. But she had a scar on her neck."
Nico's breath caught. "Clara's sister. Elena."
I nodded. "Marcus isn't running away with your wife, Mr. Falcone. He's running away with her twin sister. The woman who actually stole the trust fund."
Nico's eyes hardened into pure steel. "Elena hated Clara. If Elena is alive..."
He looked at the front door. "Then Elena was the one in the car that night. Which means my wife..."
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"Is in the trunk of Marcus's car," a cold voice said from the doorway.
We turned. Sloane was standing there, holding a heavy wool winter coat.
