Chapter 5 - The Ghost in the Photograph
Isabella’s hand trembled slightly as she held the scratched locket. The air in the sunlit courtyard suddenly felt heavy, suffocatingly dense, as if the ghosts of the past were crowding in around them.
"Leo," Isabella breathed softly, carefully closing the silver casing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I just found it in the grass."
Leo walked closer, his small footsteps making no sound on the lush grass. He reached out and gently took the locket from her palm, his fingers brushing against hers. He didn't look angry; instead, his young face carried an unbearable weight of sorrow that no child should ever have to bear.
"Father throws them away," Leo whispered, his voice barely audible over the trickling water of the fountain. "Whenever I find something of hers—a picture, a ribbon, a book—he takes it and locks it in his study. He says ghosts only bring more bullets."
"Who was she, Leo?" Isabella asked gently, kneeling down to his eye level, her heart aching for the boy. "What happened to her?"
Before Leo could answer, Lily came running back, holding up a bright red rose she had picked. "Look, mommy! I got a flower for big brother Leo!"
Leo forced a small, fragile smile, taking the flower from Lily's tiny hand. "Thank you, Lily."
Suddenly, the cheerful atmosphere shattered.
From the front gates of the estate, the unmistakable low, guttural roar of high-powered luxury engines echoed across the gravel driveway. A convoy of three black armored sedans swept through the iron gates, moving with aggressive speed before coming to a screeching halt near the main entrance.
Isabella’s blood ran cold. Dominic Moretti was back hours earlier than expected. And judging by the frantic movements of the armed bodyguards pouring out of the vehicles, something was terribly wrong.
"Mrs. Gentry!" a sharp voice barked from the doorway.
Victor, Dominic’s scarred and ruthless enforcer, strode out onto the back patio, his hand resting instinctively near his holstered weapon. His eyes scanned the courtyard and locked onto Isabella and the children.
"Get the kids inside the safe room. Now," Victor ordered, his face carved from granite.
"What happened?" Isabella demanded, standing up and pulling Lily behind her skirt.
"We've been hit," Victor snapped, his eyes darting toward the perimeter gates. "A rival syndicate just breached the downtown docks. Dominic is dealing with it, but the estate is on high alert. Move!"
Panic flared in Isabella’s chest. She grabbed Lily’s hand and reached out for Leo, but before she could take a step, the heavy back doors of the mansion burst open.
Dominic Moretti stepped out into the courtyard.
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His suit jacket was gone, his black dress shirt soaked with sweat, and his knuckles were raw and stained with dark blood. His face was a mask of cold, unbridled fury—the terrifying, mythic monster of Boston the underworld whispered about in terror.
His dark eyes instantly locked onto his son.
