Page 113 of Beneath the Shadows

As she leaves, I’m left with a swirl of emotions—uncertainty and a faint spark of something I haven't felt in a long time.

* * *

After the incident with the camera, the days blurred together in a haze of frustration and helplessness. It took a full week for me to gather the courage to finally step outside.

As soon as my foot hits the pavement, I pause, scanning the empty street. For a moment, I half-expect someone to leap out and drag me back inside—to remind me that my freedom is still just an illusion. But no one comes.

The air is still, and the street is quiet, almost eerily so. It hits me like a punch to the gut—I'm almost twenty-two, and I’ve never been completely alone. There’s always been someone watching—guards hovering close by, shadowing my every move, ensuring I never forget how controlled my life is.

It seems that Antonio kept his promise. His guards are nowhere to be seen. The realization surprises me. I hadn’t expected him to follow through, but for now, he’s allowing me this sliver of freedom.

The longer I walk, the more uneasy I become. My father’s threats lurk in the corners of my mind, and I glance around, but there’s no one I recognize, no shadowy figure lurking nearby. Still, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

I focus on the steady rhythm of my footsteps, the warm breeze brushing against my skin. By the time I reach the gallery, my anxiety has eased.

Ophelia looks up when I step inside. Her surprise is evident. “Allie. I didn’t realize you were back in town.”

“I just got back,” I say, managing a small smile. “I was wondering if any of my photos sold.”

“Oh yes, quite a few, actually. But I sent the money order to your address in Alabama.”

I force a nod, pushing down the disappointment. “That’s okay. I’ll wait until the envelope gets returned here.”

“I’m sorry for the mix-up.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” I reply, trying to make it sound casual. “I came back much sooner than I anticipated.”

“I hope everything’s okay?”

I’m momentarily at a loss, but I recover quickly. “It will be.”

“Do you have any new photos? I’d love to see what you’ve been working on.”

“Not yet. It’s going to take a little while before I’m settled enough to take new ones. But I’ll bring some by when I do.”

“Take your time,” she says gently. “I’m glad you’re back.”

The walk home feels longer. The streets blur as I replay the disappointment over and over in my mind. I needed that money. It was supposed to be the start of saving for a new camera. But that envelope will never find its way back to me because Allie Morgan doesn’t exist—she never did.

When I finally reach the house, Antonio’s just walking up the porch steps. His expression softens when he sees me. Despite everything, I find comfort in his presence—a security I can’t quite explain.

Antonio

It’s taken a week of searching the house, but I finally found Alessia’s things. Valentino had hidden them in a place I never suspected—a secret room concealed behind a false wall.

I’d been in Valentino’s office countless times. He trusted me enough to allow me access, but I never imagined there was more to it than met the eye. After days of fruitless searching, frustration got the better of me. I was angry—angry at Valentino for his secrets, angry at myself for the entire mess.

I started yanking books off the shelves, throwing them to the floor. One of them—a large, leather-bound volume—hit the ground harder than the rest. The sound it made was wrong—off. I stopped, staring at the space on the shelf where it had been. Something clicked.

That’s when I found it.

Behind the empty space on the shelf, a hidden lever. I pulled it without hesitation, and the wall beside the shelf slid open, revealing a narrow, windowless room I’d never known existed. The air inside was stale, untouched. The kind of place meant to stay hidden forever.

In the center of the room was a steel safe. It didn’t take long to crack it open. Inside were Alessia’s passport and photo ID, along with a stack of forged passports—Valentino’s way of controlling her, or worse. I destroyed the forgeries and pocketed Alessia’s actual belongings. She would’ve never found this room. Valentino made sure of that.

As I step onto the front porch, I spot her coming around the corner. She’s finally ventured out of the house after days of hesitation. She’s been growing more distant with each passing day. I’ve tried to get her to open up to me, but with everything that’s happened, everything I’ve done, she’s barely speaking to me.

It’s driven a wedge between us that I’m not sure how to fix. I was hoping the fresh air might help, that maybe it would clear her head. But as she draws near, it’s clear nothing has changed. There’s something wrong. Her face is tense, her expression guarded, and the smile she forces doesn’t reach her eyes.

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