The curtain of night had now fallen heavily on the mansion. The light from the candles flickered and cast moving shadows on the walls; the corners of the living room seemed even darker, as if they were guarding secrets. No one spoke much; words were spoken carefully, as if they were afraid that any sound could break something precious.
Lily, who could never be quiet when there was work to do, had begun to pull apart an old piece of furniture — a small sofa that was rarely sat on. She wanted to check the back of it, to see if there was any forgotten object hidden there that would help. The others were looking at her, half-smiling at her practicality. And at how many movies she had seen that gave her this idea.
"Don't move it too much, the whole ceiling will fall with it," Peter said, but his voice had lost its mockery—it was more protective.
Lily took a deep breath and pulled. The small piece of furniture slid, and as she turned it, she made out a corner she'd never seen before: something of fabric thrown behind the wood. It was a jacket—a man's jacket, with the smell of old tobacco still lingering in the fabric.
Gabriel felt his blood run cold. Leo's jacket? Why was it hidden behind the piece of furniture? He took it with trembling hands, opened it, and searched the pockets, as if expecting to find a key, a note, anything. In the inside pocket, a thin fold of paper caught his eye: a carefully folded letter.
"Okay," Dorella whispered, "don't open it here, maybe…"
But Gabriel couldn't wait. He opened the paper with fingers that no longer felt right. The writing was small, hurried, but clear. The first word startled him:
E.,
I don't know how to say this without hurting you. When I saw you yesterday, my heart almost broke. I know I shouldn't, I know I promised. But when I'm with you I feel something I can't ignore.
I don't want to lose you. If I hurt you, if I leave you, it will be because I'm afraid of putting you in danger. There are people watching you, and I don't want you to be a target.
Talk to me again, please. Don't leave me alone with my guilt.
I love you. You are my life…
— L.
The words were short, and in their simplicity they hid a world of tears and fear. Gabriel read over and over again, as if expecting to find some mistake, some lie, but the letter seemed sincere—a personal, confused love letter or warning.
Dorella took the paper, touched it, quickly reading the same words. Her eyes filled with something that was neither just sadness nor just anger—it was complicated, like a vague understanding. "Who is E?" she whispered. "And who is watching her?"
Peter leaned forward, trying to read over them, but he kept the words to himself. "It could just be a trivial love letter," he said, but his voice was unconvincing. "Or it could be the key. "Maybe Leo was involved in something we don't know about."
Then something changed in Dorella's tone. "Lock it," she said, but no one understood what she meant. Tears began to fall from her eyes.
Lily remained silent, but her expression hardened. I always thought Leo had good intentions, she thought. But did he know something that someone didn't want to find out?
There was now a new, prickly feeling among the four of them: the letter was not just evidence of a love affair—it was a trace of a relationship that had a motive, hidden contacts, perhaps even threats. The fact that it had been found hidden, behind a piece of furniture in the living room, made matters worse: someone had carefully concealed it.
Gabriel looked at Dorella, but this time it wasn't because he admired her, it was because he understood something from her gaze. "Do you know who E is?"
All three children looked at her.
"I know. I know more than you think. I know that Leo had started reading poetry, that he had started dressing differently. How he had started avoiding Felicia and us, he had started avoiding everyone for some reason he hadn't told me. But what he had told me was that he wanted to change, that he was happy and was getting ready to go on a trip, which I had understood he wouldn't go on alone. I know that he told me to keep it a secret. And I know that ALL of you come to me to keep your secrets, as if I didn't have my own problems ready to break me! All of you come to me, just like Ellie came to tell me that she was in love, but they can't be in a relationship because it's "complicated.""
Everyone was looking at her. She wanted the earth to swallow her. But for some reason, he didn't want to take a single word back. He meant what he said.
Ellie. Dorella's sister, who was... Leo's girlfriend? It seemed like a natural continuation. If the "E." in the letter was Ellie, then there was a connection that explained a lot.
Gabriel looked at her. He looked at the girl he loved and knew all his life, now standing in front of him, not with self-aggrandizement, but with fatigue, sadness, secrets, questions, knowledge and fear.
Without thinking, he hugged her.
She collapsed in his arms and started to cry. He thought, for the first time. I've known her since she was a baby and this is the first time I've seen her cry. How is this possible? How? How did I not notice? How much pain she was hiding inside. She has never cried in public, and yet there were times when she could have, but she held it in until she was alone, away from everyone. Away from me. From me…
"Calm down. Everything will be okay," he told her, trying to calm her down. And she succeeded.
Dorella is one of those people who doesn't show such emotions easily. But if they do, they'll all come out at once, like a wave, but it won't last long.
She smiled at him. "I'm okay. Thanks, I needed this. And, sorry. I know more than you think."
Peter formed a bitter smile. "Everything is okay now and that's the important thing. Dorella, we need to talk to Ellie."
"I have. But, who could have hidden the jacket?"
Everyone turned their gaze to the jacket and the room around it. The question was immediate: who wanted to hide the letter? Why not just put it in Leo's drawer? Its location—behind the furniture—suggested something darker: someone had taken it out and put it there, as if to hide it from view or leave it for someone else to find.
An image flashed through Gabriel: Leo. "Leo hid it there."
"What?" the children asked in unison.
"Think about it, Leo has been strange the last few days, always outside, distant, writing. He knew he was in danger, so he left his jacket there for us, knowing it was safe and that we would find it, but why?"
"To lead us to Ellie," Peter replied.
Dorella, more practical, folded the letter and put it in an envelope. "First step: call Ellie. If 'E.' is her, we need to talk to her—carefully." Her voice was both firm and tender.
"And let's not forget Felicia herself," Peter added. "Someone who plays with suspicion so much must be afraid of something. Or someone wants to make her look that way." His smile turned to nervous amusement. "We have work to do."
Gabriel held his mind on the letter for a moment, this little poem that now carried immense weight. He felt the urge to run, to find Ellie, to turn every doubt into decisive action. But above all, he felt another, personal weight: wherever that letter led, it would not only change Leo or the investigation; it would take him with it, and perhaps Dorella as well.
Before they got up, they decided something simple and hard: they would not share the letter with anyone outside the group. First, they would talk to Ellie. Then, depending on what they learned, they would decide their next steps.
The night outside continued to blow, and inside the mansion the paper in the envelope suddenly seemed heavier than any object. It was a trace. It was a promise and a threat at once. And, as often happens, such a letter changed everything — not just for Leo, but also for those who had been left behind searching for the truth.