Chapter 9 – THE WOODEN BOX

Six months passed.

The transition into my new role as Director of Operations was seamless. Vincent proved to be a tough but incredibly fair boss, entirely shifting his family’s business away from the syndicates and into legitimate real estate and shipping.

Elena thrived as a mother to Mia and an aunt to Leo. She even started an art foundation in Isabella’s name.

Life was peaceful.

Until a rainy Tuesday afternoon, when a courier arrived at my new office in downtown Chicago.

“Package for Emma Brooks,” the courier said, sliding a heavy, wooden box onto my desk.

“Thank you,” I frowned, signing the clipboard.

I waited until the courier left before inspecting the box. It was old, made of dark mahogany, with a small brass lock on the front. There was no return address.

Taped to the top was a letter.

I opened the envelope.

Dear Emma,

If you are receiving this, it means the lawyer I hired three years ago finally tracked you down. My name is Isabella Caruso.

I dropped the letter. My hands started to shake.

Isabella?

I picked it back up, my heart racing.

I know you must be confused. I hired a private investigator to find you right before I died. I knew Sabrina and Daniel were planning to kill me. I knew they would try to get rid of anyone who protected Leo.

I needed someone on the inside. Someone strong. Someone who understood what it meant to protect their family at all costs.

I gasped, reading the next lines.

I looked into the background of every applicant for the housekeeping position. I saw your file. I saw how you worked three jobs to keep your sister in school after your father died. I knew you were the only one who wouldn’t bow to Sabrina’s bullying.

I paid the hiring agency to make sure your resume was the only one Vincent saw.

I sat back in my chair, completely stunned.

Isabella hadn’t just left a bear, a key, and a tape. She had orchestrated my employment. She had handpicked me to save her son.

I looked at the final lines of the letter.

Inside this box is the final piece of the puzzle. The key to the box is taped to the bottom of the letter. Give it to Vincent. Tell him I love him. And thank you, Emma. Thank you for saving my boy.

I peeled the small brass key from the back of the parchment.

I didn’t wait. I grabbed the box and drove straight to the Caruso mansion.

I found Vincent in his study, going over architectural blueprints.

“Emma?” Vincent looked up, surprised by my sudden entrance. “Is everything okay?”

I placed the wooden box on his desk.

“It’s from Isabella,” I said softly.

Vincent went completely still.

He looked at the box, then at the letter I handed him.

He read her words in absolute silence. When he finished, he didn’t speak. He just took the small brass key from my trembling fingers and inserted it into the lock on the wooden box.

The lid popped open.

Inside was a thick, leather-bound diary, and a folded piece of parchment.

Vincent unfolded the parchment.

It was a hand-drawn map.

“What is it?” I asked, leaning closer.

“It’s a map of a property,” Vincent whispered, tracing the ink lines. “A property on the coast of Maine. I didn’t know we owned land there.”

He opened the diary.

On the first page, written in Isabella’s looping cursive, were the words:

The House I Built For Us.

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