Chapter 3 - THE WARNING MY FATHER LEFT BEHIND
I stood so quickly that the sofa cushions shifted beneath me.
"My father told me never to trust your family."
Alexander didn't move.
Charles looked devastated.
"That sounds like Miguel."
I reached for my purse.
"I need to go home."
Alexander stepped away from the doorway.
"You're free to leave."
His answer surprised me.
Men like Alexander Ashford weren't famous for letting people walk away.
"Your family has been connected to two deaths," I said. "And now you're asking me to trust you?"
"No," Alexander replied. "I'm asking you to judge me by what I do next."
I wanted to hate him.
It would have been easier.
But I remembered how he'd stepped between Victoria and me without demanding anything in return.
Charles looked at my father's old photograph.
"Miguel knew something Anthony's killers wanted buried."
"What?"
"We don't know. He refused to tell us."
My phone rang.
It was Mateo.
"Sophia?"
His voice sounded strange.
"What's wrong?"
"Someone came to the apartment asking about Dad."
My stomach dropped.
"Who?"
"A man in a gray coat. He said he used to know him."
"Did Mom let him inside?"
"No. She told him to leave."
I heard my mother coughing in the background.
Then Mateo whispered, "Sophia, he knew about the wooden box."
I stopped breathing.
"What wooden box?"
"The one Dad told us never to open."
I had almost forgotten it.
A narrow cedar box sat beneath my mother's bed, wrapped in an old blue blanket.
Dad had given it to her shortly before he died.
Mom always said it contained private family memories.
"Lock the door," I told Mateo. "I'm coming home."
Alexander saw my expression.
"What happened?"
"Someone went to my apartment."
His face changed.
He called his security chief, Marcus Bell.
"Have a car ready. And notify the police about a suspicious visitor at the Reyes residence."
I shook my head.
"We don't need your protection."
"Then consider it transportation. Nothing more."
Twenty minutes later, we reached my building in Queens.
Our apartment door stood open.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Mateo!"
I rushed inside.
My brother stood beside the kitchen table, holding Mom's hand.
They were both unharmed.
But every drawer in the apartment had been emptied.
Clothes covered the floor.
Someone had pulled the mattresses from the beds.
Mom began crying when she saw me.
"He took Miguel's box."
I stared at her.
"The man in the gray coat?"
She nodded.
Alexander stepped into the doorway.
"Did you see his face?"
Mom looked at him.
Then her expression changed completely.
She backed away.
"No."
"Mrs. Reyes?"
She pointed at Alexander.
"Your father promised he'd protect us."
Alexander froze.
Mom's voice broke.
"And three days before Miguel died, Anthony Ashford came here."
I stared at her.
"Mom, Anthony Ashford died eighteen years ago."
May you like
She shook her head.
"That's what everyone believes."
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