Chapter 2 - The room became colder.Not physically.
Something else had changed.
Dominic Moretti was no longer looking at me like a delivery driver.
He was looking at me like a man staring at a ghost.
Vanessa noticed.
“What are you talking about?”
Dominic didn't answer.
His bodyguard disappeared through a side door.
I stayed where I was.
My cheek still stung.
Cake still covered my jacket.
My knee still hurt from the marble.
But none of that mattered anymore.
Because Dominic had recognized my name.
And I knew exactly what name he had probably seen.
Carter.
My father's name.
Daniel Carter.
For years, that name meant nothing to most people.
To me, it meant everything.
My father had been a former military contractor before becoming a private security consultant.
He had also been the one who introduced me to martial arts.
He had trained me in a small gym behind a warehouse.
He never told me everything about his work.
When I asked why certain men knew him, he always said the same thing.
“Because I solved problems.”
When I asked what kind of problems, he smiled.
“The kind that don't belong in conversations with children.”
I had been nineteen when he died.
The official story was a car accident.
Wet roads.
Mechanical failure.
No witnesses.
Case closed.
I never believed it.
Neither did my mother.
But grief makes people tired.
Eventually, we stopped asking questions.
Dominic stepped closer.
“You said your name is Avery Carter.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel Carter's daughter?”
My throat tightened.
“How do you know my father?”
Vanessa looked between us.
“Dominic.”
He ignored her.
“Answer me.”
“I am.”
For the first time that night, his expression softened.
Only slightly.
“I thought you were dead.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He exhaled slowly.
“Nothing.”
The bodyguard returned with a thin black folder.
Dominic took it.
Vanessa reached for it.
“What is that?”
“Not your concern.”
Her face hardened.
That was the first time I saw fear enter her eyes.
Just for a second.
Dominic opened the folder.
His gaze moved over the first page.
Then the second.
Then the third.
He stopped.
I noticed his fingers tighten.
“What?”
He closed the folder.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Your father died eight years ago?”
“Yes.”
Dominic looked at the bodyguard.
“Everyone out.”
Nobody moved.
His voice became sharper.
“I said out.”
People began leaving.
Fast.
Within seconds, the enormous room emptied.
Vanessa stayed.
“So do I.”
“No.”
She stared at him.
“You're throwing me out of my own birthday party?”
“This is no longer a party.”
I looked toward the door.
Security guards had begun locking it.
Dominic turned toward me.
“Who told you to come here tonight?”
“The order came through the delivery app.”
“Was the customer address hidden?”
“No.”
“Did anyone contact you personally?”
I shook my head.
“Just the app.”
He opened the folder again.
I caught a glimpse of a photograph.
My father.
Standing beside Dominic.
Years younger.
Alive.
My breath caught.
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“Your father saved my life once.”
That wasn't the answer I expected.
Vanessa stepped forward.
“This is ridiculous.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You humiliated Daniel Carter's daughter in front of sixty people.”
She laughed nervously.
“So?”
“So you don't understand what you just did.”
I looked at him.
“What does my father have to do with any of this?”
Dominic studied me for several seconds.
Then he said:
“Your father wasn't killed in an accident.”
Everything inside me stopped.
My mother had spent eight years grieving a lie.
I whispered, “What?”
Dominic lowered his voice.
“Daniel was investigating someone inside my organization.”
“Who?”
“I never found out.”
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
“Dominic, enough.”
His eyes snapped toward her.
“You knew?”
She froze.
“Knew what?”
Dominic walked toward her.
“You heard me.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
He stared at her.
Then at the cake on the floor.
Then back at me.
“Get her out.”
Vanessa's expression changed instantly.
Two guards approached.
She resisted.
“Dominic, don't do this.”
He said nothing.
She was escorted through the side door.
As soon as it closed, Dominic faced me.
“I owe your father a debt.”
“I don't want your money.”
“I know.”
“I want the truth.”
“You may not like it.”
“I've lived eight years without it.”
My voice cracked.
“I can handle it.”
Dominic looked at the photograph again.
Then he handed it to me.
On the back was a handwritten message.
Six words.
Trust no one inside the house.
I looked up.
“What house?”
Dominic's phone rang.
He checked the screen.
His face darkened.
“It's your mother.”
My stomach dropped.
“How do you have her number?”
“I don't.”
He answered.
A voice shouted from the other end.
Dominic's expression changed.
“Avery.”
I stood.
“What?”
He handed me the phone.
I heard breathing.
Then a muffled voice.
A man's whisper.
“Your mother is safe for now.”
My blood turned cold.
“Who is this?”
The line disconnected.
I looked at Dominic.
He was already moving.
“Where is your car?”
“Outside.”
“Forget the car.”
“Why?”
He grabbed his coat.
“Because whoever took your mother knows where you live.”
May you like
He looked at the photograph in my hand.
“And they know who your father was.”
Related Stories
