Chapter 5 - THE FOOTPRINTS IN THE UPSTATE SNOW
The radio crackled again, Victoria’s panicked voice piercing the silence of the wrecked music room. “Marco, answer me! The basement is empty! Where is she?!”
Dominic didn't answer. He stepped hard onto the radio, crushing it into plastic splinters beneath his heel. His eyes, just moments ago filled with grief and betrayal, were now hardened like black ice.
“Rebecca,” Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Pack a bag for Sophie. Warm clothes.”
“Where are we going?” I asked, my hands shaking as I held the little girl.
“To find my wife.”
Two hours later, we were in the back of a bulletproof black SUV, speeding north toward the Catskill Mountains. Dominic drove like a man possessed. Sophie was asleep in the backseat, her head resting on my lap, still wearing the repaired blue coat.
The revelation that Isabella had tried to flee with Sophie was eating Dominic alive. I could see it in the rigid line of his jaw and the white-knuckle grip he had on the steering wheel.
“Why would she run, Mr. Moretti?” I finally asked, the silence in the car becoming too heavy to bear.
“Because my world is dangerous, Rebecca,” he said softly, staring at the dark highway. “I thought I shielded them from it. But three years ago, a rival family threatened Sophie. I promised Isabella I would handle it. I guess she didn't believe me.”
We arrived at the coordinates Marco had surrendered before Dominic’s men hauled him away. It was a decaying, isolated cabin surrounded by dense pine trees and thick snow.
Dominic drew his weapon and pushed the cabin door open. It swung inward with a painful creak.
I stayed in the doorway with Sophie, refusing to let her see whatever nightmare was inside.
“Clear,” Dominic called out.
I stepped inside. The cabin was freezing. In the center of the room was a heavy wooden chair with thick leather straps. A tray of half-eaten food sat on a small table. But what caught my eye was a piece of fabric snagged on a rusted nail near the back window.
I walked over to it. It was a scrap of white silk.
“Victoria was here,” I said.
Dominic examined the shattered glass of the back window. “Someone broke out of here recently. There are footprints in the snow heading toward the tree line.”
He grabbed a flashlight and pointed the beam into the dark woods. “Stay here with Sophie. Lock the door.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I’m not leaving you alone out there. And I’m not leaving her alone in this place.”
We followed the footprints together, Dominic leading the way, the flashlight cutting through the heavy snowfall. The tracks were erratic, stumbling. Whoever made them was weak.
Suddenly, the beam of light hit a figure slumped against the trunk of a massive oak tree.
It was a woman. She was wearing a torn white coat, shivering violently, her blonde hair matted with snow and dried blood.
Dominic lowered his gun.
It was Victoria.
She looked up at us, her eyes wide with genuine terror. She didn't look like a glamorous socialite anymore. She looked like prey.
“Dominic,” she sobbed, clutching her bleeding stomach. “Help me.”
“Where is my wife, Victoria?” Dominic demanded, standing over her.
Victoria let out a wet, gasping laugh. “Your wife? She’s a monster, Dominic. You have no idea what she really is.”
Victoria shakily reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a heavy gold bracelet. She dropped it in the snow at Dominic’s feet.
Dominic stared at it, the color draining from his face once again.
“I didn't kidnap Isabella to torture her,” Victoria gasped, coughing up blood. “I locked her up because she found out my secret... and she was blackmailing me.”
Victoria pointed a trembling finger at the dark woods behind us.
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“She didn't just escape, Dominic. She left me here to die. Because Isabella isn't running from your enemies.” Victoria swallowed hard. “Isabella is your enemy. She’s the one who ordered the hit on your daughter three years ago.”
TITLE: "THE MOTHER WHO WANTED TO KILL HER OWN"
