Chapter 4 - The Recording
Dominic owned a cassette player.
Of course he did.
It was inside a cabinet in the library between a first-edition Hemingway and a bottle of bourbon older than I was.
Marco checked the room for listening devices before Dominic inserted the tape.
I sat at the far end of the table.
Nobody had technically invited me to stay.
Nobody had told me to leave either.
The tape hissed.
Then a woman’s voice filled the library.
Dominic stopped breathing.
“Dominic.”
Maria Sofia sounded calm.
Warm.
Young.
“If you are hearing this, then I failed to do something I promised myself I would do.”
Dominic stared at the machine.
“I promised I would tell you the truth while I was still alive.”
The tape crackled.
“Your father loves you.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“But your father is weak when it comes to his brother.”
Marco slowly turned toward Dominic.
I saw Dominic understand before the name was spoken.
“Vittorio has been stealing from this family for years.”
Dominic stood.
The chair scraped backward.
Maria continued.
“Gabriel discovered it first.”
“He found payments.”
“Information sold to men outside the family.”
“Names.”
“Routes.”
“Meetings.”
Dominic’s hands curled against the table.
“He confronted Vittorio.”
“Three days later, Gabriel was dead.”
The tape hissed again.
My chest tightened.
“I tried to tell your father.”
“He refused to believe me.”
“He said grief had made me paranoid.”
“I began collecting proof.”
Then Maria’s voice changed.
Lower.
Quieter.
“I made one mistake.”
“I told Rosa.”
Dominic’s eyes snapped toward the machine.
Aunt Rosa.
The woman who had hired me.
The woman who had given me the house schedule.
The woman who had specifically told me Dominic would not return before Friday.
Maria continued.
“I do not know whether Rosa betrayed me.”
“I only know Vittorio learned about this room two days later.”
Marco cursed under his breath.
“I have moved the real documents.”
“They are somewhere Vittorio will never look.”
“If you ever find this recording, Dominic, do not trust what this family tells you about me.”
A long pause followed.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
“I am not planning to die.”
The tape clicked.
Silence.
Dominic stared at the machine.
I felt cold.
Officially, Maria Sofia Caruso had died in a car crash three days after that recording.
Yet on the tape she had spoken as if she expected something to happen.
Marco looked toward the door.
“We need to lock down the estate.”
Dominic did not respond.
“Dom.”
That was the first time Marco used his first name casually.
Dominic seemed to return to the room.
“Do it.”
Marco pulled out his phone.
I stood.
“I should probably leave.”
Dominic’s gaze landed on me.
“No.”
I frowned.
“That sounded less like a suggestion.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I’m not part of this.”
“You opened the room.”
“Technically, your wall opened the room.”
“You moved the portrait.”
“Because your roof leaks.”
“And somebody may believe you found whatever my mother hid.”
That silenced me.
Dominic stepped closer.
“If Vittorio knows that wall was opened, you are no longer a house-sitter who happened to move a painting.”
His voice softened slightly.
“You are a witness.”
I folded my arms.
“To what?”
His eyes moved toward the tape recorder.
“To a secret my family buried for thirty-one years.”
Marco ended his call.
Then his phone rang immediately.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?” Dominic asked.
Marco turned the phone around.
The security office had sent a still image.
A dark sedan had stopped outside the Caruso gate less than four minutes after the hidden room was opened.
May you like
Someone inside the car had photographed the mansion.
Then driven away.
