Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT THE MANSION BURNEDThe first explosion knocked me against the library desk.
The second shattered the windows overlooking the west garden.
Glass flew across the carpet.
Hannah screamed.
I grabbed her and pulled her behind the sofa.
Smoke poured through the broken windows.
Somewhere outside, men were shouting.
My radio crackled.
“Boss! West entrance breached!”
Marco.
Then gunfire.
I pressed the button.
“Get the children out!”
No response.
“Marco!”
Static.
I stood.
Hannah caught my sleeve.
“Where are you going?”
“Upstairs.”
“You'll be killed.”
I looked at her.
“My daughters are upstairs.”
She released me.
I ran.
For twenty years, I had known how to move through buildings under fire.
I knew which walls offered cover.
Which doors opened inward.
How to listen for footsteps beneath noise.
But none of that knowledge mattered as much as the sound I heard above me.
Nora screaming my name.
I reached the main staircase.
Smoke was already drifting into the foyer.
Mrs. Donnelly stood near the front doors.
She held a telephone.
Her face was white.
“Mr. Romano!”
“Where are the girls?”
“East wing!”
“Why aren't you with them?”
“I was calling emergency services.”
“Get outside!”
She hesitated.
“Your brother—”
I stopped.
“What?”
Her eyes widened.
“Nothing.”
I stepped toward her.
“What about my brother?”
She shook her head.
“Please. The house is burning.”
Another explosion sounded.
The chandelier trembled.
I grabbed the railing and ran upstairs.
At the east hallway, Grace emerged carrying Nora.
Olivia and Sophie followed.
All three girls were crying.
Grace had blood on her forehead.
“Dominic!”
I reached them.
“What happened?”
“Someone came through the service passage.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“I didn't see his face.”
“Where is he?”
“In the nursery.”
I looked behind her.
The nursery door stood open.
Smoke curled from beneath the ceiling.
I took Nora from Grace.
“Get downstairs.”
“The front entrance is blocked.”
“Use the south stairs.”
Grace shook her head.
“Two men came up from there.”
I looked toward the opposite corridor.
The old servants' staircase.
Isabelle had insisted it remain open.
“Laundry passage,” I said.
Grace nodded.
“I know it.”
“Go.”
Olivia grabbed my hand.
“No!”
I crouched.
“Baby, listen to me.”
Her face was streaked with tears.
“Don't leave us.”
I felt my throat close.
“I won't.”
She shook her head.
“You said that before.”
The words hit me.
Because she was right.
Fourteen months ago, when I left for work, I had promised I'd see them that evening.
By the time I returned, their mother was dead.
And I had disappeared into grief.
I kissed her forehead.
“I'm coming with you.”
I tucked my gun away and carried Nora.
Grace took Sophie's hand.
Olivia held mine.
We moved down the narrow passage.
Behind us, a door slammed.
Footsteps.
Someone shouted.
“Romano!”
I recognized the voice.
Carlo Vescari.
A man who had worked for Vincent for six years.
I stopped.
Grace looked at me.
“Keep going,” I whispered.
She understood.
I handed Nora back to her.
Then I turned.
Carlo appeared at the end of the corridor.
He raised his weapon.
I fired first.
The shot struck the wall beside him.
He ducked.
I moved behind the doorway.
“Carlo!”
He fired again.
Wood splintered beside my head.
“Vincent sent you?”
Silence.
Then he shouted, “You should've stayed at the warehouse!”
My blood turned cold.
The warehouse.
My early return.
Somebody had expected me to be there.
And if I had stayed, my daughters would have been alone.
I looked toward the passage.
Grace and the girls had disappeared.
Good.
I fired again.
Carlo retreated.
I ran after my family.
At the bottom of the service staircase, I found Grace standing beside a locked metal door.
She was fighting with the handle.
“It won't open!”
I shoved it.
Nothing.
A chain had been wrapped around the other side.
Someone had sealed the exit.
The girls began crying harder.
I looked around.
Old shelves.
Laundry carts.
A narrow window.
Too small for me.
Large enough for a child.
I grabbed a metal stool.
Smashed the glass.
Cold air rushed in.
Outside was the rear courtyard.
A twelve-foot drop to the grass.
Grace stared.
“Dominic—”
“There's a maintenance awning beneath it.”
I looked out.
Canvas stretched over a delivery entrance.
It might hold.
It might not.
But smoke was already filling the staircase.
I lifted Olivia.
“Climb through.”
She shook her head.
“Daddy!”
“I'll be right behind you.”
She looked at Grace.
Grace nodded.
“I'm going too.”
Olivia climbed.
I lowered her until her shoes touched the canvas.
“Move toward the edge.”
She obeyed.
Sophie went next.
Then Nora.
Grace climbed through.
I caught her arm.
“Take them away from the house.”
“What about you?”
“I'm coming.”
She looked at me.
“Promise?”
I stared at her.
Then nodded.
“I promise.”
She dropped onto the awning.
The canvas sagged.
For one terrible second, I thought it would tear.
Then she steadied herself.
She helped the girls down toward the grass.
I climbed through.
Behind me, footsteps thundered down the stairs.
A man shouted.
I dropped.
The awning ripped beneath my weight.
I fell through the fabric and struck the pavement.
Pain exploded along my ribs.
For a moment, everything went black.
Then someone touched my face.
“Daddy?”
Olivia.
I opened my eyes.
She was kneeling beside me.
I pulled her close.
“I'm okay.”
It was a lie.
But I could breathe.
I stood.
Grace helped me.
We ran toward the trees.
Behind us, the mansion burned.
Flames climbed from the west wing.
Smoke swallowed the roofline.
The windows of Isabelle's bedroom glowed orange.
I stopped.
The house.
Her house.
The place she had chosen for children we hadn't yet had.
Grace touched my arm.
“Dominic.”
I looked at her.
“We have to go.”
I nodded.
We reached the edge of the property.
A narrow service road curved toward the neighboring estate.
Marco's emergency vehicle sat near the maintenance gate.
The driver's door was open.
Blood stained the seat.
Marco lay beside the front wheel.
I hurried toward him.
He was breathing.
Barely.
“Marco.”
His eyes opened.
“Boss.”
“What happened?”
“Inside job.”
“Who?”
He coughed.
Blood touched his lips.
“Gate codes.”
“Who gave them?”
He grabbed my sleeve.
“Donnelly.”
I froze.
Mrs. Donnelly.
Seventeen years.
My family.
Isabelle's funeral.
The girls' bedrooms.
The house manager who had told me Vincent could enter any room.
Marco struggled to breathe.
“She changed the codes.”
I pressed my hand against his wound.
“Stay with me.”
He shook his head.
“Get them out.”
I looked toward the mansion.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Police.
Firefighters.
Maybe an ambulance.
But I didn't know which officers could be trusted.
Not yet.
I helped Marco into the vehicle.
Grace climbed into the back with the girls.
Hannah emerged from the trees.
She was limping.
I stared.
“How did you get out?”
“Kitchen entrance.”
“Anyone following?”
“I don't think so.”
She climbed in.
I started the engine.
The vehicle moved.
Behind us, the flames grew brighter.
Olivia pressed her face against the rear window.
“Mommy's house.”
I couldn't speak.
She turned toward me.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Is Mommy's picture going to burn?”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“I don't know, baby.”
She began crying.
And then Sophie said something that made me nearly drive off the road.
“Mommy didn't die there.”
I looked at her through the mirror.
“What?”
“At school,” she whispered.
I stared.
She was trembling.
“She didn't die at school.”
Grace turned toward her.
“Sophie, sweetheart?”
Sophie covered her ears.
“Uncle Vinny said she did.”
I felt the world shift.
“Sophie?”
She looked at me.
“I saw Mommy in the car.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What car?”
“The black one.”
“When?”
“After the loud noises.”
I looked at Hannah.
Her face had gone white.
My daughter continued.
“Mommy was sleeping.”
I swallowed.
“Did somebody carry her?”
Sophie nodded.
“The man with the blue gloves.”
I thought about the official report.
Isabelle had been declared dead at the scene.
A doctor had identified her.
A medical examiner had signed the certificate.
I had seen her body.
Hadn't I?
I remembered a hospital corridor.
A white sheet.
Blood.
A nurse telling me not to look too long.
Vincent standing beside me.
Holding my shoulders.
Telling me she was gone.
May you like
Sophie looked directly into the mirror.
Then she whispered, “Daddy, Mommy opened her eyes.”
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