Chapter 20 - The Portrait Goes Back
Three months later, Maria Sofia Caruso’s portrait returned to the gallery.
Not over the hidden door.
Dominic refused to cover it again.
The entrance to Maria’s room was restored properly.
The sealed window was reopened.
The blue rug was cleaned.
Her books were preserved.
Her letters were placed in archival boxes.
The room became part study.
Part memorial.
Part proof that the Caruso family would no longer solve uncomfortable truths by putting walls in front of them.
Vittorio disappeared from public life.
His remaining business interests collapsed under lawsuits, audits, and investigations.
Anthony waited for trial on charges connected to the financial schemes and Daniel’s confinement.
Daniel cooperated.
Rosa moved into one of the guest cottages on the estate.
She claimed the smaller house was easier on her knees.
I suspected she simply enjoyed appearing in Dominic’s kitchen every morning without technically living under his roof.
Elena came home in January.
Dominic waited in the foyer.
The same foyer where I had once pointed a fireplace poker at him.
Elena entered wearing a dark green coat.
She was thirty-six now.
She had Maria’s eyes.
Dominic stared at her.
Elena stared back.
Then she reached inside her handbag.
She removed a tiny wooden horse.
Captain.
One leg had been repaired.
Dominic covered his mouth.
Elena smiled through tears.
“You owe me an apology for the laundry chute.”
Dominic laughed.
Then his sister walked into his arms.
Nobody in the room looked away.
Some moments deserved witnesses.
I stayed at the Caruso estate too.
Not as a house-sitter.
Dominic offered me a new job supervising restoration of the entire property.
I told him his mansion required years of work.
He told me that sounded convenient.
I told him his kitchen table still needed replacing.
He accused me of plotting against his furniture.
I admitted nothing.
By spring, the house changed.
Curtains opened.
Unused rooms became useful again.
The gloomy west sitting room became a library.
The bronze horse remained beside the lemon tree because Dominic finally admitted it looked better there.
He denied making that admission whenever Marco was present.
One evening, I stood in Maria’s room placing the last restored photograph on a shelf.
Dominic leaned against the doorway.
“No poker?”
“Not tonight.”
“Disappointing.”
“You came through the front door.”
“I’m learning.”
He entered.
His gaze moved toward the photograph of Maria, Gabriel, Dominic, and little Elena.
The missing part had been reconstructed using another photograph Elena had kept.
Four children and a mother whose history could no longer be edited.
Dominic stood beside me.
“We never found her.”
Maria.
The one absence that remained.
Elena still received no reply from the contact method she had used for years.
The yellow ribbons stopped after the confrontation with Anthony.
Private investigators found fragments.
Hotel records.
Train tickets.
A medical appointment under an alias.
Nothing current.
“Maybe she’s afraid,” I said.
“Of me?”
“Of what coming home might change.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
Then he looked at me.
“You changed almost everything in this house without permission.”
“Only the things that needed it.”
“My furniture.”
“Terrible placement.”
“My paintings.”
“Poor lighting.”
“My kitchen.”
“Actively hostile.”
“My life.”
I stopped.
Dominic’s expression softened.
“That one too.”
For once, I had no answer.
He reached for my hand.
Slowly.
Giving me time to move away.
I did not.
Then the doorbell rang.
Marco called from the foyer.
“Dominic.”
Something in his voice made us separate immediately.
We went downstairs.
A courier stood outside.
No company logo.
No return address.
He had delivered one small package.
Addressed by hand.
DOMINIC CARUSO.
Dominic carried it into the library.
Marco checked it.
Nothing dangerous.
Dominic opened the box.
Inside was a folded blue scarf.
A yellow ribbon.
And one photograph.
The photograph had been taken that morning.
It showed the Caruso mansion from beyond the front gate.
On the back, someone had written four lines.
Dominic read them once.
Then again.
His face changed.
Elena came into the room.
“What is it?”
Dominic handed her the photograph.
She covered her mouth.
I stepped closer.
The handwriting matched every letter stored inside Maria’s room.
Maria Sofia Caruso was alive.
And she had been standing outside the estate that morning.
But that was not the part that made Dominic go completely still.
Beneath the photograph, Maria had written:
Dominic,
I know you found my room.
I know Elena came home.
There is one final thing you must know before I return.
Do not tell Rosa that you received this.
Dominic slowly lifted his eyes.
Across the foyer, Aunt Rosa had just entered the mansion.
She smiled when she saw us.
Then she noticed the blue scarf in Dominic’s hand.
May you like
And the smile disappeared.
TOBE CONTINUED
