Chapter 4 - The Camera Outside Mia's Window
I ran upstairs before Antonio could stop me. Mia was asleep, the curtains drawn, the hall guard posted outside. Nothing looked disturbed. Yet the photograph on my phone showed her from the garden side of the window.
Antonio checked the security recordings. The camera overlooking Mia's terrace had gone dark for eleven minutes. The technician blamed a faulty cable. Antonio dismissed him on the spot.
I knew what eleven minutes could mean. It was enough time to enter a room, plant a threat, or hurt a child who already slept with a nightlight because she remembered flames.
Antonio ordered a second guard. Mia woke during the commotion and demanded to know what was happening. I told her the truth in a way she could bear: someone had tried to frighten us, and we were taking precautions.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
“No,” Antonio said. He sat beside her and held her hand. “You did something brave.”
She watched him for a long moment. “Mom told me to hide the key. She said I'd know when you needed it.”
“When did she tell you?”
“The night before the fire.”
Antonio went still. Mia had always said she remembered almost nothing from that night. Now, with Grace and her father beside her, she described Elena kneeling by the bed, sewing a pocket into the lining of her favorite dress, and making her promise never to show anyone but Antonio.
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“She said someone was pretending to love us.”
At midnight Antonio received another message. This one contained a photograph of Carlo leaving the chapel basement with a black folder. The timestamp was two hours before we'd arrived.
