Chapter 6 - THE TRAP AT THE HISTORICAL ARCHIVE
By noon, Elena Marlo had become the most dangerous woman in Boston.
Not because she carried a weapon.
Not because she had powerful friends.
But because she now knew that the people who had controlled her life were terrified of what she might remember.
Her phone rang as Dante's SUV pulled onto Beacon Street.
Dr. Frederick Hale.
Elena answered on speakerphone.
"Elena, sweetheart. I'm concerned about you."
Dante's eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
Hale sighed.
"Your aunt called this morning. She said you experienced an emotional episode at dinner. Apparently, you've become confused about your mother's death."
Elena looked at Dante.
"I'm not confused."
"Of course not. But I'd like you to come into the archive. We can talk somewhere quiet."
"Are you firing me?"
"Goodness, no. I simply want to help."
Dante wrote two words on his phone and showed her.
Ask when.
"When should I come?"
"Immediately, if possible."
Elena ended the call.
Dante spoke first.
"He's expecting you."
"Then maybe we should disappoint him."
A faint smile crossed Dante's face.
"You're learning."
But Elena shook her head.
"No. I want to go."
"Absolutely not."
She turned toward him.
"You said I could make my own decisions."
Dante held her gaze.
Then he nodded.
"You're right. But I'm coming with you."
Thirty minutes later, Elena entered the Hawthorne Historical Archive.
Dante remained close behind her.
The building smelled of old paper, polished wood, and the lemon oil Elena used on antique furniture.
For the first time, the familiar surroundings felt threatening.
Hale met them beside the restoration laboratory.
His smile vanished when he saw Dante.
"Mr. Moretti. I wasn't expecting you."
"I've heard that a lot today."
Elena stepped forward.
"You submitted a statement saying I was mentally unfit."
Hale went white.
"That document was confidential."
"So you admit signing it."
"I was concerned for your well-being."
"After three years of excellent performance reviews?"
He opened his mouth.
No words came.
Dante placed a copy of the guardianship petition on the table.
"You have one opportunity to explain."
Hale glanced toward the security camera.
Then he whispered, "They threatened my son."
Elena's anger faltered.
"What?"
"He's nineteen. He made a terrible gambling mistake. Victoria's people bought the debt."
Dante's expression remained unreadable.
"Who instructed you to sign?"
"Caroline."
"And who prepared the medical statement?"
Hale hesitated.
"Dr. Nathaniel Price."
Dante knew the name.
Price operated an exclusive psychiatric treatment center outside Boston.
The same facility listed on Elena's involuntary commitment documents.
A sudden crash came from the restoration room.
Elena turned.
One of the archive's oldest storage cabinets had fallen against the door.
Behind it, a small fire was spreading across a stack of preservation materials.
"Get outside!" Dante ordered.
Hale ran toward the alarm.
But Elena saw something through the smoke.
A man wearing a gray maintenance uniform was standing beside the emergency exit.
He held a metal canister.
And he was looking directly at her.
Dante moved between them.
The man charged.
Dante caught his arm, redirected his momentum, and drove him into the cabinet.
The attacker fell, scrambled upright, and swung a heavy flashlight.
Dante blocked the second attack and pinned him against the wall until security arrived.
Elena rushed toward a locked display cabinet.
Inside was a wooden document case she had been restoring for months.
Only now did she recognize the carved silver iris on its lid.
It was identical to her pendant.
"Elena!" Dante shouted. "We have to go!"
She grabbed the case.
They escaped through the loading entrance moments before firefighters entered the building.
Outside, Elena opened the scorched wooden box.
Beneath its false bottom was a folded letter.
Written in Sophia's handwriting.
If Elena finds this, tell her the fire was not an accident.
May you like
The next sentence made Dante go completely still.
The man who ordered it was present when my daughter was born.
