Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7: The Voice of the Dead
Nobody moved.
The rain outside hammered against the windows, filling the silence between each breath.
Vincent stared at the intercom like a man staring into a grave that had just spoken back.
“Isabella,” he whispered.
Lily’s heart twisted at the sound of the name.
Not jealousy.
Pain.
Because she heard what was inside his voice.
Hope.
Terror.
Guilt.
Marco moved first, crossing to the security panel.
The screens were still black.
The voice came again.
“Did you love me, Vincent?”
Matteo began to cry.
Lily covered his ears gently and pulled him close.
Vincent’s eyes burned.
“Who is this?”
A soft laugh filled the room.
“You don’t recognize your own wife?”
Marco slammed a hand against the panel.
“It’s a recording.”
Vincent turned to him.
“Are you sure?”
Marco did not answer fast enough.
The voice continued.
“I told you there was a snake in the house. You didn’t listen.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
That sounded like Isabella.
Not just the voice.
The phrasing.
The rhythm.
The quiet sadness.
Lily stood carefully, keeping Matteo behind her.
“Vincent,” she said softly, “this is meant to hurt you.”
The voice shifted.
“And Lily… poor little Lily. Did they tell you why your mother ran?”
Lily froze.
Vincent turned toward the speaker.
“Enough.”
But the voice continued.
“Elena didn’t disappear because she was afraid of Bianca. She disappeared because she saw what Vincent’s family really was.”
Lily’s fingers curled.
Marco shouted to the guards outside.
“Cut the power to the west security grid!”
Footsteps thundered in the hall.
Then the screens flickered back to life.
One monitor showed the front gate.
Another showed the empty chapel.
Another showed the rose garden.
On the final screen, a figure stood in the old east wing.
A woman in a black veil.
Holding a white rose.
Vincent’s blood ran cold.
“That wing has been sealed for five years,” Marco said.
The woman lifted her face toward the camera.
Her features were hidden, but the gesture was deliberate.
Then she raised one hand.
On her finger was Isabella’s wedding ring.
Vincent stepped toward the screen.
“No.”
Lily grabbed his arm.
“Don’t go alone.”
He looked at her.
For one second, the mafia boss disappeared.
Only the grieving husband remained.
“I have to know.”
Lily’s grip tightened.
“Then we go together.”
“No.”
“Yes,” she said, and her voice left no room for argument. “My mother is part of this too.”
Matteo clung to her dress.
“Don’t leave.”
Lily knelt in front of him.
“I’m coming back.”
“You always say that when bad things happen.”
Her face broke.
Vincent knelt beside her.
“This time, you stay with Marco.”
Matteo looked at Marco.
Marco placed a hand over his heart.
“I will guard you with my life, little prince.”
Matteo tried to be brave.
But when Lily stood, he whispered, “Please don’t become a ghost too.”
Lily turned back and kissed his forehead.
“I won’t.”
Vincent, Lily, and four guards moved through the mansion toward the sealed east wing.
Every step felt like descending into a memory no one had survived cleanly.
The east wing doors were locked.
Vincent entered the old code.
The lock clicked open.
Dust and cold air spilled out.
Inside, white sheets covered furniture. Portraits had been turned toward the walls. The hallway smelled faintly of roses, though no flowers had been kept there for years.
At the far end, a music box began to play.
Vincent stopped.
“That was hers,” he said.
Lily saw his hand tremble.
They followed the sound to Isabella’s old sitting room.
The door stood open.
Inside, the woman in the black veil waited near the window.
Vincent stepped forward.
“Take it off.”
The woman did not move.
“Take it off,” he repeated, voice breaking.
Slowly, she lifted both hands.
The veil fell.
Vincent staggered back.
Lily covered her mouth.
The woman was not Isabella.
But she looked enough like her to be cruel.
Same dark hair.
Same delicate face.
Same eyes.
Only older.
Harder.
The woman smiled.
“Hello, Vincent.”
Marco’s voice came from behind them, shaken.
“Lucia.”
Vincent turned.
“You know her?”
Marco’s face was gray.
“She was Isabella’s older sister.”
The woman smiled wider.
“The sister everyone paid to disappear.”
Lily whispered, “You sent the envelope.”
Lucia looked at her.
“And you finally came home.”
Vincent’s voice was low.
“What do you want?”
Lucia walked to the covered piano and placed a hand on it.
“What I have always wanted.”
She looked at Lily.
“The truth about the night Isabella died.”
Then she reached beneath the piano bench and pulled out a sealed metal box.
Across the top, written in Isabella’s hand, was one name.
Elena Sinclair.
Lily stepped forward, shaking.
Lucia held the box out.
“Your mother died protecting this.”
Lily’s eyes filled with tears.
“What’s inside?”
Lucia looked at Vincent.
Then at Marco.
May you like
Then back to Lily.
“The reason Bianca was never the real enemy.”
