Chapter 4 - The Photograph in the Cabin
“Dominic,” Luca whispered, staring at the burned train ticket as if it were a venomous snake.
The name hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Dominic Bellini was Vanessa’s older brother. He was a ruthless, volatile enforcer for the Bellini family, a man who had been exiled to Europe five years ago after nearly starting a mob war in Chicago.
“Why would Elena have a train ticket with Dominic’s name on it?” Mara asked, her voice trembling. “Luca, she hated Dominic. He always made her uncomfortable.”
Luca’s jaw locked. His tattooed hands gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned stark white.
“Because she didn't buy the ticket,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly register. “Dominic bought it. He was tracking her. Vanessa didn't just pay Elena to leave. She sent her brother to hunt her down.”
My stomach churned. Elena had stitched the ticket into the child’s coat as a warning. A desperate cry for help that had gone undiscovered for four years.
“We have to go,” Luca said, immediately turning toward the door. “Now.”
“Go where?” Mara asked.
“To the destination on that ticket. Blackwood, West Virginia. If Dominic took her there, there has to be a trail.”
He stopped and looked back at me. “Claire. Go change out of that wet uniform. Put on something warm. You're coming with us.”
I blinked in shock. “Me? Sir—Luca, I’m just the housekeeper. I don't know anything about—”
“You found the ticket,” Luca interrupted, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “You see details I miss. And quite frankly, you're the only person in this house I completely trust right now.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in the back of a massive, armored black SUV. I had changed into jeans, a heavy wool sweater, and a winter coat. Mara sat beside me, gripping my hand tightly, while Luca sat in the front passenger seat next to his head of security, a giant, scarred man named Marcus.
We drove through the night, leaving the glittering skyline of Chicago behind. The rain turned into a freezing drizzle as we crossed state lines, heading deep into the Appalachian Mountains.
Nobody spoke. The silence was thick with dread.
By dawn, we arrived in Blackwood. It wasn't even a proper town. It was a dying coal-mining village completely surrounded by dense, skeletal forests.
Marcus pulled the SUV up to the only diner on the main road.
Luca walked inside, slapping a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. He pulled out a photograph of Elena from his wallet and showed it to the exhausted waitress.
“Have you seen her?” Luca asked.
The woman looked at the picture, then looked at Luca’s expensive suit and Marcus’s imposing bulk. She swallowed hard.
“Mister, people out here don't like answering questions,” she mumbled.
Luca placed three more hundred-dollar bills on the counter.
The waitress quickly swept the money into her apron.
“She lived up on Miller’s Ridge,” the woman whispered, glancing nervously at the door. “In the old hunting cabin. Kept to herself. But she ain't there no more.”
“When did she leave?” Luca asked.
“About a month ago. Some city guy in a fancy car came up here. Screamed at her in the yard. Next morning, she and the little boy were gone.”
Luca’s face went pale. “A month ago? You're certain?”
“Positive. She left her car sitting in the driveway. Been rusting there ever since.”
We drove up the winding, treacherous dirt road to Miller’s Ridge. The trees grew thick and imposing, blocking out the morning sun.
At the end of the road sat a small, dilapidated log cabin. A rusted sedan was parked out front.
Luca kicked the front door open.
The cabin was freezing. It smelled of dust and damp wood.
But it was what was inside that broke my heart.
The tiny living room was scattered with children's toys. A small box of crayons sat on a wooden table. A pair of child’s rainboots rested by the fireplace. Elena had built an entire life here, hiding in the shadows, raising Luca’s son completely alone.
Luca walked slowly into the center of the room. He picked up a small, plastic dinosaur from the floor, his broad shoulders shaking with silent, overwhelming grief.
“She was here,” he whispered. “My son was right here.”
I walked toward the small kitchen, looking for any clues. The cabinets were bare, but the trash can in the corner had not been emptied.
I pulled out a pair of rubber dish gloves from the sink, put them on, and carefully dug through the trash.
Underneath a pile of empty soup cans, I found a crumpled, glossy piece of paper.
I smoothed it out on the counter.
“Luca,” I called out, my voice tight with shock. “You need to see this.”
Luca and Mara rushed into the kitchen.
I handed him the paper.
It was a photograph. But it wasn't a picture of Elena and the boy.
It was a surveillance photograph. Taken from a distance with a telephoto lens.
It showed Luca, standing in front of his estate in Chicago, shaking hands with Dominic Bellini.
Written on the back of the photograph, in heavy black marker, were three words:
He sold us.
Luca stared at the handwriting. “That’s Elena’s handwriting.”
Mara gasped, covering her mouth. “Luca... Vanessa didn't just tell Elena you didn't want the baby. She gave Elena this picture. She made Elena believe you hired Dominic to hunt her down.”
The ultimate betrayal. Elena hadn't run away because she stopped loving Luca. She ran because she believed Luca was trying to kill her and their unborn child.
Suddenly, a loud crunch of gravel echoed outside the cabin window.
Marcus drew his weapon instantly. “Boss. We’ve got company.”
I peeked through the dusty blinds.
Three black SUVs, identical to ours, had just pulled up, blocking the dirt road completely. Heavily armed men poured out of the vehicles, raising their rifles toward the cabin.
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And stepping out of the lead vehicle was Dominic Bellini.
TITLE: The Empty Asthma Inhaler
