Chapter 5 - The Girl at the Window
Mia had seen more than anyone knew.
Children were treated as furniture by adults who believed power made them invisible. They spoke over children. Lied beside them. Counted money in front of them. Carried boxes past windows while small faces watched from blanket forts.
By noon, Dominic sat on the floor of the carriage house apartment with Mia across from him.
Sofia slept in the bedroom after Dr. Vale’s second visit. Her fever had broken slightly, but she remained weak. Mrs. Alvarez stayed nearby, stirring soup and pretending not to cry whenever she looked at the child.
Dominic had a legal pad on his knee.
Mia had crayons.
He did not ask like a prosecutor. He asked like his mother had once asked him what happened at school when he came home with bruises and said nothing.
“Did you ever see people near your window at night?”
Mia colored a purple sun.
“Bad shoes.”
Dominic glanced at Enzo, who stood by the door.
“What are bad shoes?”
“The shiny ones that go click-click. Not garden shoes. Not kitchen shoes.”
“Men or women?”
“Men.”
“How many?”
She held up three fingers. Then paused and added one more.
“Sometimes four.”
Dominic wrote nothing at first.
He did not want her to feel recorded.
“Did Mr. Whitfield come with them?”
Mia nodded.
“He said we don’t look.”
“Did he say what would happen if you looked?”
Mia’s crayon stopped.
“He said Mama would lose the warm place.”
Mrs. Alvarez turned away sharply.
Dominic’s voice remained even.
“You are not losing the warm place.”
Mia looked up.
“Promise?”
Dominic had broken vows men considered sacred and kept promises others thought foolish. But this one landed differently.
“I promise.”
Mia studied him with terrifying seriousness.
Then she nodded.
“They had boxes,” she said. “Black boxes. Sometimes silver. One time a box cried.”
The room went still.
Dominic’s blood cooled.
“What do you mean, cried?”
“Like a phone. But inside.”
Enzo exchanged a look with Dominic.
Not people. Electronics. Devices. Possibly stolen luxury goods. Possibly worse.
“Where did they take the boxes?”
Mia pointed out the window toward the old lower stable.
“Nobody uses that,” Mrs. Alvarez whispered.
Dominic stood.
“Enzo.”
Already moving, Enzo called two guards.
Mia’s lower lip trembled.
“Did I do bad?”
Dominic crouched again.
“No. You did very good.”
“Is Mr. Whitfield mad?”
“Yes.”
She looked frightened.
Dominic softened his voice.
“But he is not in charge anymore.”
This seemed to puzzle her.
Adults had told Mia many things. Nobody had explained that cruel people could stop being powerful.
Dominic took the purple crayon from where it had rolled near his shoe and handed it back.
“You and your mother are safe.”
Mia accepted the crayon.
“Mama says safe is a thing you feel in your belly.”
Dominic remembered his mother saying something similar. Not with those words, but with warm bread, locked doors, and a hand on the back of his head when sirens passed outside.
“What does your belly say now?” he asked.
Mia considered this.
“Hungry.”
Mrs. Alvarez laughed through tears.
Dominic almost did, too.
By late afternoon, Enzo returned from the lower stable.
His expression was controlled.
Too controlled.
Dominic met him outside the carriage house.
“What?”
“We found storage compartments behind the east wall.”
“Goods?”
“Yes. Watches. jewelry. phones. passports. Cash.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“How much cash?”
“Enough that Whitfield wasn’t working alone.”
Dominic looked toward the main house.
The mansion sat against the gray sky, proud and enormous and filled with secrets.
For years, men had assumed Dominic Castellano’s house was untouchable because of him.
They had been right.
They had simply misunderstood what would happen once he realized who needed protection from whom.
“Move everything to the secure room,” Dominic said. “Photograph it first. Quietly.”
“And Whitfield?”
Dominic looked back through the carriage house window.
Mia was eating soup while Mrs. Alvarez fussed over her like a grandmother. Sofia slept in the next room, one hand finally relaxed against the blanket.
“Whitfield waits,” Dominic said.
Enzo raised an eyebrow.
May you like
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Let him think he still has time to lie.”
