Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO PAINTED IN SECRET
My mother had always kept a small wooden box beneath her bed.
As a child, I thought it contained jewelry.
After she died, I found old photographs, letters, and a few sketches.
Nothing extraordinary.
Or so I believed.
Now I wondered what else I'd missed.
Naomi arranged for the box to be brought from storage.
I opened it on Gabriel's dining table.
Inside were the same familiar objects.
A silver bracelet.
A photograph of my parents.
A faded postcard from Florence.
And a folded piece of paper I had never noticed.
It was tucked beneath the lining.
The paper contained a drawing.
A woman holding a white lily.
The same woman from Gabriel's painting.
But beneath the sketch was a name.
Lucia.
I looked up.
“Gabriel?”
He approached.
I showed him the drawing.
His face changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“My mother's box.”
He stared at the name.
“Lucia was our grandmother.”
I looked at him.
“The woman in the painting?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
Gabriel explained that Lucia Costa had been a painter before marrying into the family.
She had secretly documented family history through her artwork.
Names.
Dates.
Places.
Not as a criminal ledger.
As a private record of people who had disappeared, been threatened, or been forced into silence.
My mother inherited several of those paintings.
She began adding her own records after discovering Sorelli's operations.
“Why hide evidence in art?” I asked.
Gabriel looked at the sketch.
“Because Sorelli understood bank accounts. He understood shipping manifests. He didn't understand paintings.”
I stared at the drawing.
“And my mother did.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Yes.”
That evening, I studied the restoration photographs.
The frame.
The stretcher.
The backing board.
Something bothered me.
The frame's lower rail had a tiny irregularity.
A carved floral motif repeated along the wood.
Except one flower had six petals instead of five.
I enlarged the photograph.
Then froze.
There was a narrow seam beside the carving.
A concealed compartment.
I called Naomi.
“I think I know where the second signature is.”
She arrived an hour later.
Gabriel joined us.
I showed them the image.
“If the original frame still exists, there's something inside it.”
Gabriel looked grim.
“Then we need to find the painting.”
Before anyone could speak, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Spencer's voice filled my ear.
“Baby.”
My stomach tightened.
“Don't call me that.”
He laughed softly.
“You've made a mess.”
“You framed me.”
“Careful.”
I looked at Naomi.
She immediately began documenting the call.
Spencer continued.
“You need to come home.”
“I don't live with you.”
“You know what I mean.”
I swallowed.
“What do you want?”
“The photograph you found.”
My blood ran cold.
He knew.
“Spencer, listen to me—”
“No. You listen. Gabriel Costa can't protect you forever.”
I looked toward Gabriel.
Spencer continued.
“And if you don't bring me what I need, I'll make sure everyone knows what your mother really was.”
The call ended.
I stood motionless.
Gabriel looked at me.
“What did he say?”
I swallowed.
“He knows about the photograph.”
Gabriel's face hardened.
Then I asked the question that had been growing inside me since the gala.
“Gabriel, what exactly did my mother do before she disappeared?”
May you like
He looked at me.
And for the first time, he seemed genuinely afraid of the answer.
