Chapter 3 - The View from the Willow
The grandfather clock in the hallway struck three, and with each chime, the knot in Isabella's stomach tightened. She had spent the last several hours pacing her small living room, her eyes repeatedly darting to the corner of Caldwell Street. The black sedan hadn't budged. Under the weeping willow, its headlights were off, its windshield wipers occasionally clearing the steady drizzle.
Inside that car sat her past, her regrets, and the man who had loved her and destroyed her in equal measure.
At exactly 3:28 PM, the distant hiss of air brakes signaled the arrival of the school bus. Isabella stood on her front porch, her hands tucked inside her cardigan sleeves.
The bus stopped, its red lights flashing. The door folded open, and Eli hopped down onto the wet asphalt. He had his hood up, his hands tucked into his pockets, navigating the puddles with a quiet, careful grace. As he walked toward the house, his path took him directly past the black sedan.
From inside the darkened vehicle, Damian Moretti felt his heart stop.
He pressed his hand against the cold glass of the passenger window, his breath fogging the surface. He didn't wipe it away; he didn't want to lose even a millisecond of the view.
The boy was beautiful.
Eli had Isabella’s thick, dark curls poking out from beneath his hood, but as he tilted his head up to avoid a dripping branch, the light caught his face. Damian let out a shaky, silent breath. It was like looking into a mirror that had traveled back thirty-five years. The shape of the jaw, the high cheekbones, the slight, serious down-turn of the mouth—it was the Moretti blood, pure and undeniable.
As Eli walked past the car, he paused. His serious dark eyes locked onto the tinted windows of the sedan. For a split second, father and son stared at each other through the dark, double-paned glass. Eli didn't look afraid; he looked curious, his head tilting slightly, as if trying to decipher a puzzle.
"Eli!"
Isabella's voice cut through the damp air, sharp and clear from the porch.
The boy immediately broke eye contact, turned, and ran up the driveway. "Hey, Mom! Look what I found at the creek!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a smooth, perfectly round river stone, holding it up like a trophy.
Isabella gathered him into her arms, hugging him tighter than usual. She looked over his shoulder, her eyes locking onto the windshield of the black sedan. She saw the faint silhouette of a man behind the glass, his forehead pressed against the steering wheel.
"That's a beautiful stone, Eli," Isabella said, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Come inside. I made some hot chocolate."
"Is that car lost?" Eli asked, pointing a small finger toward the corner as they stepped inside. "It's been there all day."
"Just someone passing through, sweetie," Isabella said, closing the door and turning the deadbolt. "Just someone passing through."
An hour later, after Eli had settled at the kitchen table with his homework, the soft vibration of her phone signaled a text message.
Private Number: He has your eyes. Thank you for not hiding him from me today. I am staying at the Harrow Falls Inn. I won't press you, Isabella. But I am not leaving this town until you let me speak to you. Just you. Please.
Isabella looked at the screen, then at Eli, who was chewing on the end of his pencil, his brow furrowed over a division problem.
May you like
She knew she couldn't keep running. The shadow of Chicago had found them, and the only way to protect her son’s future was to face the man who had cast it.
Isabella: The diner on Main Street. 8:00 PM. Come alone.
