Matthew closed the folder.
“Find the original documents.”
Then he glanced toward the guest suite.
“And make sure nobody gets near Elena.”
At seven the next morning, Elena woke to sunlight filtering through pale curtains.
For several seconds, she did not recognize the room.
Then she remembered the rain, the headlights, and the man who had told his driver to take the old industrial road.
She sat up quickly.
Her feet were wrapped in clean bandages. Her torn dress had been replaced with simple clothes Sofia had found for her. On the bedside table sat a glass of water and a handwritten note.
You are not a prisoner here. Breakfast is ready whenever you feel comfortable joining us.
There was no signature.
Elena smiled faintly.
Then she remembered the mansion.
Her stepmother would already have begun constructing a story to explain her disappearance.
She reached for the bedside telephone and called the number she knew by heart.
