Chapter 5 – The Rosary That Held Her Final Words

Luca stared at the rosary in Sarah’s trembling hands. The silver beads caught the harsh glare of the headlights.

It was Isabella’s. She had held it every Sunday in the small chapel near the estate. It had been buried with her.

Bile rose in Luca’s throat. Vanessa had desecrated her own sister’s grave just to send a message.

“Get inside,” Luca told Sarah, his voice deadly calm. “Ruth, lock down the safe room. Do not open it for anyone but me.”

“Luca, you can’t go alone,” Ruth pleaded, grabbing his arm. “That woman is a monster. She wants you there for a reason.”

“I know,” Luca said gently, pulling his arm away. “But if I don’t go, she’ll never stop hunting us.”

Luca drove into the night, the storm raging around his SUV. The three-hour drive to Blackwood Pines felt like an eternity. He replayed the last four years in his mind. The grief, the sleepless nights, the slow, agonizing process of letting Vanessa into his life because she seemed to be the only one who understood his pain.

It was a masterclass in manipulation.

He arrived at the logging town just before dawn. The lake house sat at the end of a dirt road, shrouded in mist and surrounded by dense pine trees.

Luca killed the headlights and parked a half-mile away. He crept through the woods, the rain soaking through his jacket.

The house was dark. But as he got closer, he saw a faint light flickering in the basement window.

He drew his weapon, moving silently onto the wooden porch. He found the back door unlocked.

He slipped inside, his boots making no sound on the familiar floorboards. The house smelled of dust and old secrets.

He crept toward the basement stairs. The light was coming from a single bare bulb hanging over a wooden table.

Sitting at the table was Marco.

He looked exhausted, nursing a glass of whiskey. On the table in front of him sat the stolen cedar box. It was open.

“I knew you’d come quietly, boss,” Marco said, not looking up.

Luca leveled his gun at Marco’s chest. “Where is she, Marco?”

“Gone,” Marco said, taking a sip. “She only needed me to get the box. I’m expendable now.”

“You betrayed me,” Luca snarled, stepping into the light. “You threatened my daughter.”

Marco finally looked up, his eyes hollow. “She blackmailed me, Luca. She found out about the money I skimmed from the accounts. She said she’d destroy my family.”

“So you helped her murder my wife?”

Marco shook his head slowly. “That’s the thing, Luca. I didn’t help her murder Isabella.”

“Lily saw her push Isabella off the dock!”

“She did push her,” Marco said, his voice cracking. “But Isabella didn’t drown. She couldn’t have.”

Luca’s gun hand trembled. “What are you talking about?”

Marco reached into the open cedar box and pulled out a stack of documents.

“I pulled the original autopsy report, Luca. The one Vanessa paid the coroner to hide. Isabella didn’t have any water in her lungs.”

Luca felt the room spin. “Then how did she die?”

“She didn’t,” Marco whispered.

He tossed a photograph onto the table. It was taken yesterday, outside a diner in upstate New York.

It showed a woman with dark hair, drinking coffee.

She looked older, tired, and deeply sad. But there was no mistaking her face.

It was Isabella.

“She’s alive, Luca,” Marco said. “And Vanessa is going to finish the job.”

Share