Chapter 7 - THE MAN NOAH REMEMBERED
They returned to the DeLuca estate after sunrise.
Nobody slept.
Sarah changed out of the bridal gown.
She left it folded on the bathroom floor.
Not preserved.
Not destroyed.
Simply abandoned.
A dress for a life that no longer existed.
Noah woke at eight.
He found Lorenzo sitting alone in the breakfast room.
For several seconds the boy stayed in the doorway.
Lorenzo looked up.
“Morning.”
Noah hugged the old photograph against his chest.
Sarah had taped it together.
Noah walked closer.
“You’re really Daddy?”
Lorenzo’s throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why were you gone?”
There was no answer a three-year-old needed.
Lorenzo chose the smallest truth.
“I couldn’t get home.”
Noah thought about that.
“Did you get lost?”
Lorenzo almost smiled.
“Yes.”
“Mommy gets lost too.”
“Does she?”
“She misses turns.”
Lorenzo laughed.
The sound surprised him.
Noah climbed onto the chair beside him without permission.
Lorenzo did not stop him.
“Did bad people take you?”
Lorenzo looked toward the door.
Sarah stood there.
She had not told him.
Noah had listened to more than they realized.
“Yes.”
Noah leaned toward him.
“I know the bad man.”
Lorenzo’s body went still.
“What bad man?”
“The wolf man.”
Sarah crossed the room.
“Noah, sweetheart—”
Lorenzo raised one hand gently.
He kept his voice casual.
“Where did you see him?”
“At Grandma Margaret’s.”
“When?”
Noah shrugged.
Three-year-olds did not organize time like adults.
“Before cake.”
“What cake?”
“My red cake.”
Sarah whispered, “His birthday.”
Two months earlier.
Lorenzo looked at Sarah.
“Was Adrian there?”
“Yes.”
“Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
“Family. A few friends.”
Noah touched the photograph.
“The wolf man gave me this.”
Sarah froze.
“What?”
Noah pointed at the photograph.
“That picture?”
He nodded.
Sarah sat beside him.
“Sweetheart, Mommy gave you that picture.”
“No.”
“You found it in my drawer.”
Noah shook his head harder.
“Wolf man.”
Lorenzo looked at Sarah.
Children confused memories.
But this was too specific to ignore.
“What did he say?” Lorenzo asked.
Noah frowned.
“He said Daddy comes back.”
Sarah’s face drained.
Lorenzo’s voice remained steady.
“What else?”
“He said don’t tell Grandma.”
Margaret entered behind them.
She heard the last sentence.
“No.”
Noah looked toward her.
Then hid behind Lorenzo’s arm.
That reaction mattered.
Lorenzo turned.
“You recognize who he means.”
Margaret stared at Noah.
“I thought he was imagining things.”
“Who?”
She sat down slowly.
“Two months ago, Noah disappeared from the garden for perhaps three minutes.”
Sarah stood.
“You told me he was with the cook.”
“He was found near the west gate.”
“You lied to me?”
“I didn’t want you frightened.”
Sarah laughed bitterly.
“That sentence should be carved on this family’s grave.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“One of the guards said an older man had been near the gate.”
“Name.”
“He didn’t recognize him.”
“Description?”
“Gray coat. Hat.”
“Wolf pin?”
“He didn’t mention one.”
Lorenzo looked toward the security hall.
“Where is that guard?”
Margaret said nothing.
“Aunt.”
“He quit the next morning.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Name.”
“Ethan Cole.”
Lorenzo knew him.
Not well.
A quiet guard.
Six years with the family.
Never late.
Never drunk.
Never ambitious.
Exactly the kind of man people stopped seeing.
“Where is he now?”
“No one knows.”
Lorenzo sent men to his apartment.
Empty.
Clothes gone.
Nothing broken.
He had planned to leave.
By noon, they found one more thing.
A garage camera from two months earlier showed Noah near the west garden.
The image was distant.
A man crouched in front of him.
Gray coat.
Hat.
Face turned away.
On his lapel—
Silver wolf.
Sarah covered her mouth.
Margaret whispered, “Malcolm?”
Adrian, standing behind her, shook his head.
“No.”
“How can you know?”
“My uncle limps.”
The man in the footage did not.
Lorenzo stared at the screen.
The figure stood.
For one second, he turned enough for part of his face to appear.
Sarah did not recognize him.
Adrian did not.
Margaret did.
Her knees almost failed.
Lorenzo caught her arm.
“Who?”
She stared at the image.
“No.”
“Who?”
“That’s impossible.”
Lorenzo’s voice hardened.
“Stop saying that word.”
Margaret looked at him.
“Gabriel.”
Lorenzo went still.
His uncle.
Margaret’s younger brother.
The man everyone believed had died five years earlier.
The man Malcolm had just named as one of those who voted for Lorenzo’s exile.
May you like
Gabriel DeLuca was alive.
And two months before Lorenzo returned, he had approached Noah and told the boy his father was coming home.
