Chapter 1: The Broken Frame
“The man in that photograph is never coming back for you.””
Vanessa Stallone’s voice cut through the marble hallway like a blade.
Eleven-year-old Daniel froze at the top of the mansion’s sweeping staircase, clutching the photograph against his chest.
He carried it everywhere.
To breakfast.
To the garden.
Even to bed.
The picture showed Daniel at five years old sitting on his father’s shoulders beneath a bright California sky. Sylvester Stallone was laughing, one hand wrapped securely around his son’s ankle.
Daniel barely remembered that day.
But he remembered the feeling.
Safe.
That photograph was the only piece of his father Vanessa had never managed to take away.
Until tonight.
“Give it to me,” Vanessa said.
Daniel backed toward the railing.
“No.””
Vanessa’s heels clicked across the polished floor.
“You’re embarrassing yourself.””
“It’s mine.””
“Your father has been gone for months.””
“He’s working.””
Vanessa stopped inches from him.
Her silk evening gown shimmered beneath the chandelier. Downstairs, staff members were quietly preparing the mansion for a private dinner Vanessa had suddenly canceled an hour earlier.
Daniel didn’t understand why.
He only knew she had been nervous all evening.
Checking windows.
Taking calls in whispers.
Ordering security guards away from the west entrance.
Vanessa extended her hand.
“The photograph, Daniel.””
“No.””
Her expression hardened.
“You really think carrying that thing around will make him love you more?””
Daniel swallowed.
“He already loves me.””
Something flashed across Vanessa’s face.
Not anger.
Fear.
Daniel noticed it.
Then she grabbed the frame.
“Stop!””
Daniel held on.
For two seconds, neither moved.
Then Vanessa tore it free.
She looked at the photograph.
Her eyes suddenly fixed on the wooden frame.
Her breathing changed.
Daniel saw it.
“What?”” he asked.
Vanessa immediately turned away.
“Nothing.””
“Give it back.””
Instead, she walked toward the staircase.
Daniel followed.
“Vanessa!””
She raised the frame.
“You need to grow up.””
Then she threw it.
The photograph struck one marble step.
Then another.
The wooden frame split apart before sliding across the foyer floor.
Daniel stared.
For one horrible second, he couldn’t move.
Then he ran.
“Daniel, leave it!””
He ignored her.
He rushed down the stairs, dropped to his knees beside the broken frame, and carefully reached for the photograph.
A sharp edge caught his palm.
He pulled back.
A tiny line of blood appeared.
“My picture…”
Vanessa descended slowly.
“You did that to yourself.””
Daniel looked up at her.
“You threw it.””
“You grabbed me.””
“I never touched you.””
Vanessa’s eyes moved toward the front doors.
Again.
That frightened look.
Then the mansion went strangely quiet.
A low engine sounded outside.
Vanessa stopped halfway down the staircase.
Daniel heard car doors closing.
One.
Two.
Three.
The security radio near the entrance crackled.
Vanessa whispered, “No.””
The massive front doors opened.
Cold night air swept into the foyer.
A bodyguard entered first.
He stepped aside.
And Sylvester Stallone walked through the doorway.
Daniel’s mouth fell open.
“Dad?””
Stallone stopped.
His travel coat was still buttoned. He carried no luggage, only a small black leather bag.
His gaze moved from Vanessa…
to Daniel kneeling on the marble…
to the shattered frame.
His entire expression changed.
“Daniel.””
Daniel scrambled up.
Stallone crossed the foyer quickly and crouched beside him.
“What happened to your hand?””
“I’m okay.””
“Who broke this?””
Vanessa reached the bottom stair.
“Sylvester, thank God you’re home. Daniel had an accident.””
Daniel looked at her.
Vanessa gave him a warning stare.
Stallone saw it.
“What kind of accident?”” he asked.
“He was running on the stairs,” Vanessa replied.
“He dropped the frame. I told him a hundred times not to carry it around.””
Daniel’s eyes filled.
“That’s not true.””
Vanessa’s jaw tightened.
“Daniel.””
Stallone turned toward his son.
The boy’s voice became barely audible.
“Daddy… she did it.””
Silence.
Vanessa laughed nervously.
“He’s upset.””
Stallone didn’t answer.
He picked up the photograph.
Daniel expected him to look at the cracked glass.
Instead, his father stared at the frame.
Slowly.
Carefully.
His thumb moved across the dark wood.
“This isn’t the frame I gave you.””
Daniel blinked.
“What?””
“My frame was walnut.””
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Does that really matter?””
Stallone looked at her.
“This is oak.””
Vanessa stopped.
Daniel stared at the broken pieces.
“I never changed it.””
“I know.””
Stallone turned the largest section over.
The backing had separated from the wood.
Something white protruded from underneath the photograph.
Paper.
Vanessa went pale.
Stallone noticed.
“What is that?”” Daniel whispered.
Stallone pulled the photograph free.
Behind it was a folded document, yellowed along the edges.
Vanessa suddenly rushed forward.
“Don’t open that.””
Stallone slowly raised his eyes.
“Why?””
“I mean…” Vanessa stopped.
“It could be private.””
“It has my name on it.””
Daniel leaned closer.
Across the folded paper, written in faded black ink, were three words.
*SYLVESTER — KEEP SAFE.*
Stallone unfolded it.
The first sentence made him stop breathing.
Daniel watched his father read it twice.
“What does it say?””
Stallone didn’t answer.
Vanessa backed toward the staircase.
Then Stallone read the handwritten date.
June 17.
Twelve years earlier.
His eyes moved to the photograph.
The same date was printed faintly on its back.
“That’s impossible,” Stallone whispered.
Daniel looked between them.
“Dad?””
Stallone lifted the document.
“This picture wasn’t taken the day I was told it was.””
Vanessa turned toward the hallway.
“Where are you going?”” Stallone asked.
She stopped.
Nobody moved.
Then, from somewhere beyond the foyer, came a soft metallic click.
Stallone’s eyes shifted toward the enormous stone statue beside the west corridor.
May you like
A shadow moved behind it.
And a man stepped out.
