Part 2: Shadows of the Past and the Warning in Brass
Alex’s gaze finally shifted from Isabella to the broken window, then to the white sheet of paper resting beside the fruit bowl, and finally to Teresa, who was still kneeling near the kitchen island.
Marco stepped forward, holding the clear evidence bag with the brass cartridge casing.
“Found on the eastern path, sir,” Marco said.
Alex took the bag. He did not read the white ink immediately. His eyes locked onto the brass casing, turning it over once with practiced ease before looking at the writing.
ASK ABOUT DANIEL.
The kitchen grew heavier.
Marco shifted his weight. The guards near the corridor instinctively stepped back.
Isabella watched Alex’s face. In the three years of their marriage, she had learned to read the minuscule shifts in his expression—the tightening of his jaw, the slight narrowing of his dark eyes, the way his breathing slowed when a threat shifted from abstract to personal.
Right now, Alex looked like a man who had just found a crack in a dam he spent a decade building.
“Who was on the property?” Alex asked. His voice was dangerously soft.
“We don’t know yet,” Marco replied. “The car was a black sedan with stolen plates. They didn’t breach the perimeter. They dropped the warning and pulled back before the gate unit could intercept.”
“A warning,” Isabella repeated. “To me? Or to Teresa?”
“To both,” Alex said. He turned his gaze back to Teresa. The older woman shrank under his eyes, terrified not of Alex himself, but of what his attention meant. “Teresa. Stand up.”
Teresa struggled to her feet with Isabella’s help.
“Grace,” Alex said. It wasn’t a question.
Teresa nodded, her lips trembling. “She... she and Miss Fiona came yesterday while you were at the docks. They brought three baskets of linens. They said if I didn’t finish them by midnight, they would make sure my son never worked in a hospital again.”
Alex’s hand tightened around the evidence bag. The plastic crinkled.
“And the name?” Alex asked, nodding toward the bag. “Did Grace mention Daniel?”
“No, Mr. Alex. Never. I swear I don’t know who that is.”
Alex looked at Marco. “Pull the security logs from the east gate for the past six months. Every visitor Grace and Fiona brought in. I want every vehicle, every name, and every hour logged.”
“Already on it, sir,” Marco said, turning to leave.
“Wait,” Isabella said. She stepped closer to Alex, her fingers resting lightly on his forearm. “This isn’t just about the household staff, Alex. Your mother isn’t just harassing a housekeeper to save on laundry bills. She’s using our home as a staging ground. She’s hiding something here.”
Alex looked down at her. The cold anger in his eyes softened just a fraction when he looked at his wife, but the resolve hardened.
“My mother thinks she owns everything with the Romano name attached to it,” Alex said, his jaw tight. “Including the ground we walk on. But leaving a calling card with Daniel’s name changes the rules.”
“Who is Daniel?” Isabella asked.
Alex didn’t answer right away. He handed the bag back to Marco. “Get Teresa to the medical wing. Have her hands looked at by our doctor, and assign two guards to accompany her and her son until further notice.”
“Yes, Mr. Alex,” Marco said, gently steering Teresa out of the kitchen.
When the doors closed, leaving only Alex and Isabella in the shattered silence of the kitchen, Alex turned to his wife.
“Daniel Mercer,” Alex said quietly, “was my father’s eldest son. My half-brother.”
Isabella caught her breath. “I thought you were the only heir.”
“That’s what Grace wanted everyone to believe,” Alex said, running a hand through his damp hair. “Daniel disappeared twenty-five years ago. The official story was that he died in an accident abroad. But my father burned his files the night before he died.”
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“And your mother is using his name now to threaten us?”
“No,” Alex said, his eyes dark with a sudden, terrifying realization. “She’s not using his name to threaten us. She’s using it because someone found him. Or someone found her.”
