Chapter 2
Dr. Natalie Stern examined Lily before midnight.
The five-year-old was hungry.
Dirty.
Tired.
But not seriously injured.
Her knees were bruised.
Her palms had small abrasions from carrying kitchen equipment.
Dr. Stern ordered food, fluids, rest, and a follow-up visit.
Then she asked to speak with Enzo privately.
“Do not turn tonight into an interrogation.”
“I need to know what Lucinda did.”
“You need to know without making Lily relive it twenty times.”
Enzo nodded.
Dr. Stern continued.
“She said your aunt told her she could eat dinner after she finished three jobs.”
“What jobs?”
“Carrying baskets. Folding napkins. Moving cookware.”
Enzo’s jaw tightened.
“She is five.”
“I’m aware.”
“Anything else?”
“She kept asking whether being bad was why her mother left.”
That sentence hurt more than the bruises.
Enzo looked through the glass panel toward Lily.
“Her mother did leave.”
Dr. Stern said nothing.
“She walked away three years ago.”
“Then you can deal with that separately.”
Enzo looked at her.
“Tonight, your daughter needs certainty about one thing.”
“What?”
“Being hungry is not punishment for asking questions.”
He understood.
Downstairs, his attorney had arrived.
Miriam Price was forty-eight and had represented Enzo’s legitimate businesses for fifteen years.
She entered the sealed pantry wearing latex gloves.
“You punched your aunt through a door?”
“Into a door.”
“That distinction will comfort her lawyer.”
Enzo ignored her.
Miriam began photographing the envelopes before anyone touched them.
There were forty-seven.
All addressed to Enzo.
All from the same sender.
Mara Marchetti.
Lily’s mother.
The postmarks covered almost three years.
The oldest was dated six weeks after Mara disappeared.
The newest had arrived less than one month earlier.
Enzo stared at it.
“Why would she keep writing here?”
“Maybe she had nowhere else to send them.”
“She had my office.”
“Did she?”
He looked at Miriam.
“What does that mean?”
“Your family security team changed all private contact channels after she left.”
Enzo remembered.
There had been threats around that time.
His phone numbers changed.
Private email addresses changed.
The estate began screening physical mail.
Lucinda volunteered to supervise household correspondence because Enzo was barely functioning.
Mara had vanished.
Lily was two.
Enzo was angry enough to let other people manage the details.
Miriam pointed toward the envelopes.
“Who screened mail?”
Enzo already knew.
Lucinda.
The answer tasted bitter.
Miriam lifted the oldest envelope.
“Ready?”
Enzo looked upstairs.
“No.”
“When?”
“When Lily wakes up.”
May you like
Miriam nodded.
“For once, that is the correct answer.”
