Chapter 5 - The Woman in the White Coat
For two days, no one slept.
Leo turned the estate into a fortress.
Security at every gate.
Armed guards around the grounds.
New locks on Lily’s windows.
A doctor on call.
A private driver assigned to me whenever I left the property.
I hated it.
Not because I did not understand the danger.
Because I did.
Every shadow outside a window made me think of Victoria. Every unfamiliar car made my hands shake. Every time Lily asked whether she could go into the garden, I had to fight the urge to tell her no.
But children could not live inside fear forever.
Neither could adults.
On the third morning, Lily asked me to braid her hair.
She sat on the edge of her bed, holding her stuffed rabbit.
“Do you think Victoria is mad at me?” she asked.
My hands stopped.
“No, sweetheart.”
“She always said I made people mad.”
“That wasn’t true.”
“But Daddy was mad.”
“Your daddy was scared.”
Lily looked at me in the mirror.
“Scared of me?”
My heart hurt so badly I could barely breathe.
“No,” I said. “Scared that something happened to you.”
She looked down.
“Then why didn’t he come home?”
I did not have an answer.
Leo had been working constantly before the cellar incident. Meetings in the city. Late-night calls. Business dinners. He had loved Lily, I knew that.
But love could become invisible when it was never shown.
That afternoon, Leo returned early.
He found Lily and me in the sunroom, painting flowerpots.
Lily had purple paint on both hands and a yellow dot on her nose.
Leo stopped in the doorway.
“Daddy!” she said.
He smiled, but it was careful.
“Hi, piccola.”
She looked at the paintbrush in her hand.
“Do you want to paint?”
I waited.
Leo Rossi wore a tailored navy suit worth more than my monthly rent. He had just come from a meeting with men who decided the futures of companies and politicians.
He looked at the tiny plastic chair beside Lily.
Then he took off his suit jacket.
“I do.”
Lily grinned.
For the next hour, Leo painted a flowerpot.
He was terrible at it.
His sunflower looked like a yellow explosion.
Lily told him so.
“It’s supposed to be abstract,” he said.
“It’s supposed to be a flower.”
I covered my smile with my hand.
Leo glanced at me.
And for the first time, I saw something softer behind his eyes.
Later, while Lily napped, I found him in the kitchen making coffee.
“You’re trying,” I said.
He looked surprised.
“At painting?”
“At being here.”
He looked down at the mug in his hand.
“I missed too much.”
“You can’t change what happened.”
“No.” His voice was quiet. “But I can change what happens next.”
Before I could answer, Marcus entered through the service door.
His face was grim.
“We found Victoria.”
Leo turned.
“Where?”
“St. Catherine’s Children’s Clinic in Chicago.”
My blood went cold.
“Why would she be there?” I asked.
Marcus handed Leo a photograph.
It showed Victoria leaving the clinic in a white medical coat, her blond hair hidden beneath a dark wig.
“She has been using an alias,” Marcus said. “She contacted one of Lily’s former respiratory specialists yesterday.”
Leo’s face went deadly pale.
“She knows Lily’s medical records,” I whispered.
Marcus nodded.
“She asked about medication dosage, emergency treatment procedures, and whether certain sedatives could cause respiratory distress.”
The mug slipped from Leo’s hand.
It shattered against the tile.
For several seconds, he did not move.
Then he looked at Marcus.
“Get everyone to the safe house.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Now.”
“Leo, Lily is upstairs.”
“I know.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find Victoria.”
“No.” The word came out before I could stop it.
Leo looked at me.
“You cannot go after her alone.”
“She has been planning to hurt my daughter.”
“And she may be expecting you to do exactly that.”
His expression darkened.
“You don’t understand what she is capable of.”
I stepped closer.
“You don’t understand what you are capable of when you’re angry.”
The kitchen fell silent.
Marcus looked away.
Leo stared at me.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Rossi.”
Victoria’s voice came through the speaker.
Soft.
Calm.
“Hello, Leo.”
His face changed.
“Where are you?”
“You always ask the wrong question.”
“Where are you?”
Victoria laughed quietly.
“Your daughter is safe, for now.”
I grabbed the counter.
Leo’s voice went low.
“If you touched her—”
“I have not touched her,” Victoria said. “Not yet. But you should check on Beatrice. She is very trusting for a woman who works in your home.”
I looked toward the sunroom.
The baby monitor on the counter was silent.
Too silent.
I ran.
“Lily!” I shouted.
The sunroom was empty.
The paintbrushes were still on the table. The purple flowerpot sat beside the window.
But Lily was gone.
The back door stood open.
And on the glass, written in purple paint, were four words.
May you like
You chose the wrong woman.
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