Chapter 5 - THE GIRL WITH THE SILVER ROSE|
The first sound was breaking glass.
The second was Rosa screaming my name.
I dropped the phone and grabbed her hand just as something struck the kitchen window.
A flowerpot shattered against the floor.
Cold air rushed into the cottage.
Outside, one of the security guards shouted for someone to stop.
I pulled Rosa toward the hallway.
"Stay away from the windows!"
She stumbled.
I caught her before she fell.
"Sophie, my photographs!"
"We can come back for them."
"But Elena—"
"Mrs. Alvarez, please!"
She finally allowed me to guide her toward the back bedroom.
I shut the door and helped her sit on the bed.
Then I called Nico.
He answered immediately.
"Sophie?"
"Someone's outside the cottage."
His voice changed.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Rosa?"
"She's with me."
"Lock the door."
I heard footsteps on his end of the call.
"I'm coming."
"Nico, the guards are already outside."
"Stay where you are."
The line disconnected.
I stood beside the bedroom door, listening.
Rosa sat on the bed with both hands pressed against her chest.
She was trembling.
I crouched in front of her.
"Look at me."
Her eyes found mine.
"You're safe right now."
She nodded.
But tears were sliding down her cheeks.
"I should have burned those photographs."
"No."
I shook my head.
"They might help us find Elena."
Rosa covered her mouth.
"What if Charles finds her first?"
I didn't answer.
Because that was exactly what frightened me.
Five minutes later, Nico arrived with Anthony and two police officers.
The intruder had escaped through a gap in the garden wall.
Security had recovered a broken flashlight and a dark glove.
Nico examined the damaged window.
Then he turned toward me.
"You said someone sent a message?"
I handed him my phone.
He read it.
His jaw tightened.
"Anthony, preserve this."
Anthony nodded.
Nico looked toward Rosa.
"You're staying in the main house tonight."
She immediately shook her head.
"Nicky, this is my home."
"I know."
He knelt beside her.
"And it's going to remain your home."
She looked at him.
"But I need you somewhere safe until the police finish checking the property."
Rosa hesitated.
Then nodded.
Nico gently helped her stand.
Before leaving, I retrieved the tin container.
I placed the photographs and bracelet inside my handbag.
Nico noticed.
"What's that?"
I looked toward Rosa.
She nodded.
So I told him.
Everything.
The cottage.
The photographs.
The crescent-shaped birthmark.
And Emma Lawson.
Nico listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he stood perfectly still.
"Your friend was adopted?"
"Yes."
"Outside Philadelphia?"
"Yes."
"And you think she could be Elena?"
"I don't know."
I swallowed.
"But I think it's possible."
Nico looked toward Rosa.
"Did Elena have a scar on her left knee?"
Rosa frowned.
"Yes."
I stared at him.
"How did you know?"
He looked toward the old photograph.
"I remember a little girl falling off the garden steps."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Nico slowly sat down.
"I thought she was Rosa's niece."
Rosa's eyes filled.
"You used to bring her cookies."
Nico stared.
"I remember."
He looked down.
"She called me Nick."
Rosa smiled through her tears.
"She could never say Nicholas."
Nico pressed a hand over his mouth.
For the first time, he seemed to understand that the mystery wasn't just something from his parents' past.
He had known Elena.
He had played with her.
And somewhere in his childhood memories, she had been waiting to be recognized.
That night, Rosa slept in a guest bedroom near Antonio's suite.
I returned to the staff quarters, but I couldn't sleep.
At two in the morning, I called Emma.
She answered after several rings.
"Sophie?"
Her voice was groggy.
"Do you know what time it is?"
"I'm sorry."
I sat on the edge of my bed.
"Can I ask you something?"
She yawned.
"Sure."
"Do you know your original birth name?"
Silence.
Then Emma sat up.
"Why?"
"Please."
She hesitated.
"My adoptive parents said it was Elena."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"Elena."
She sounded confused.
"Why?"
I closed my eyes.
"Do you know your birth mother's name?"
Another pause.
"Maria."
My breath caught.
Emma continued.
"Maria Marquez."
I couldn't speak.
"Sophie?"
I covered my mouth.
"Oh my God."
Her voice became frightened.
"What happened?"
I took a shaky breath.
"Emma, I think I found someone who knew your mother."
The silence on the other end lasted several seconds.
Then she whispered, "What?"
I told her about Rosa.
The photographs.
The missing woman.
The cottage.
And the bracelet.
Emma listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she was crying.
"My parents never knew why I was placed for adoption."
I wiped my own tears.
"They were told your birth mother couldn't care for you?"
"Yes."
I looked toward the tin container.
"Emma, I don't think that's what happened."
Her voice broke.
"Was she looking for me?"
"I don't know."
I swallowed.
"But I know someone who loved you enough to keep your pictures for twenty-seven years."
Emma began sobbing.
I stayed on the phone until she could speak again.
Then I asked whether she would be willing to come to New Jersey.
She answered immediately.
"Yes."
The next morning, I explained the conversation to Nico.
He was standing in his father's study.
The walnut chest rested on the desk.
His mother's letter lay beside it.
He looked exhausted.
But when I told him about Emma, he became completely still.
"Her birth name was Elena?"
I nodded.
"And her mother was Maria Marquez."
Nico closed his eyes.
"Then Rosa was right."
"Maybe."
I wanted to be careful.
"Emma wants to see the photographs first."
Nico nodded.
"Of course."
He looked toward the garden.
"I'll arrange safe transportation."
I shook my head.
"She's not a prisoner."
He looked at me.
"I know."
"Then please let her decide what she wants."
For a moment, he stared at me.
Then his expression softened.
"You're right."
He reached for his phone.
"I'll ask Anthony to coordinate with her directly."
I smiled faintly.
"Thank you."
Nico looked at me for several seconds.
"Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Mrs. Alvarez says it regularly."
He laughed.
The sound surprised both of us.
Then his expression grew serious.
"Sophie, I owe you an apology."
I frowned.
"For what?"
"For not noticing how Victoria treated you."
I looked down.
"Mr. Santoro—"
"Nico."
I glanced up.
He continued.
"I knew she could be demanding."
"But I didn't know she'd been threatening the staff."
I swallowed.
"Most of us didn't want to cause trouble."
He nodded slowly.
"That needs to change."
I looked at him.
He smiled sadly.
"This house should never have made decent people afraid to speak."
Before I could answer, his phone rang.
The caller was his attorney, Daniel Mercer.
Nico listened for several seconds.
Then his expression changed.
"What do you mean the cottage has been sold?"
My stomach tightened.
He stood.
"That's impossible."
A pause.
"Who signed the transfer?"
His jaw hardened.
Then he looked directly at me.
"Victoria?"
He listened again.
Finally, he said, "Send me the documents."
When the call ended, I stared at him.
"What happened?"
Nico rubbed a hand across his face.
"Someone filed documents transferring ownership of Rosa's cottage."
"To whom?"
"A company called Ashford Property Holdings."
My blood went cold.
"Victoria's family?"
He nodded.
"And the paperwork includes my father's signature."
I felt sick.
"Mr. Antonio never agreed to that."
"I know."
Nico looked toward the window.
"Charles has been planning this for longer than we realized."
I glanced toward the garden.
The roses around Rosa's cottage moved gently in the wind.
A woman who had given thirty-seven years of her life to this family was about to lose the only home she owned.
And somewhere in Boston, a young woman was preparing to discover the truth about her childhood.
I looked back at Nico.
"What are we going to do?"
His expression hardened.
"We're going to prove the documents are fraudulent."
"And then?"
May you like
He reached for his coat.
"Then we're going to find out why Charles Ashford is so desperate to own that cottage."
