Chapter 4 - “Mom!”
I lunged toward her.
Alessandro caught me.
“No!”
“She’s been shot!”
“We can't stay.”
“She’s my mother!”
Another bullet struck the wall.
Liam grabbed the emergency door.
“We move now.”
I fought Alessandro's grip.
“Let me go!”
He pulled me against his chest.
“Emma, listen to me.”
“She’s dying.”
His voice softened.
“She knew this would happen.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He looked toward my mother.
“She told us to run.”
“No.”
“She wanted you alive.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I ran.
We escaped through the underground garage.
Alessandro forced open a black Mercedes.
Liam got into the back.
I sat beside Alessandro.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
“Drive.”
He started the engine.
The car shot forward.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Chicago blurred beyond the windows.
My mother's face kept appearing in my mind.
Alive.
Then gone again.
I looked at the envelope in my hands.
“What's inside?”
Alessandro kept his eyes on the road.
“Open it.”
I tore it open.
One photograph fell out.
My father.
My mother.
And a third person.
Victor Sloane.
They stood outside the Mercer house.
The date on the photograph was two years before I was born.
On the back, my father's handwriting read:
THE NIGHT WE MADE THE DEAL.
My stomach tightened.
I unfolded the letter.
Elizabeth,
If you're reading this, then I failed to keep you away from the truth.
There are things you must never trust.
The police report.
The accident report.
The name Mercer.
And most importantly, the Vitali family.
My breathing stopped.
Alessandro looked at me.
“Keep reading.”
I did.
Victor is not the enemy you think he is.
He is a monster.
But he is not the monster behind everything.
The person who arranged your mother's disappearance and my death is someone we trusted.
Someone who has had access to you since childhood.
I stopped.
“Someone who has had access to me?”
Liam leaned forward.
“Who?”
I kept reading.
I will leave one final clue.
The truth is hidden beneath the Mercer house.
There is a room you were never allowed to enter.
Find it before they do.
The letter ended there.
I looked at Alessandro.
“The Mercer house.”
“You still own it?”
“No.”
Liam answered.
“The bank seized it after her parents died.”
“Who owns it now?”
Alessandro was silent.
That silence told me enough.
“Who?”
“Vitali Holdings.”
I turned toward him.
“You own my old house?”
“Apparently.”
I laughed.
It wasn't funny.
“You're joking.”
“No.”
“You bought the house where I grew up?”
“I didn't know it was yours.”
“How could you not know?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because my father purchased hundreds of properties through shell companies.”
Liam muttered, “Of course he did.”
I looked at Alessandro.
“Does Victor know?”
“Probably.”
“Then we're going there.”
“No.”
“What?”
“You’re going to a secure location.”
“No.”
“You're pregnant.”
“And my father hid proof there.”
“I won't risk you.”
“You don't get to decide.”
He looked at me.
For a moment, something dangerous passed between us.
Then he braked hard.
A vehicle had blocked the road.
Black SUV.
Another appeared behind us.
Liam cursed.
“They found us.”
Alessandro reversed.
Gunfire shattered the rear window.
I screamed.
Alessandro slammed the car into the SUV ahead.
Metal screamed.
The Mercedes spun.
He regained control.
“Hold on.”
The car tore through an intersection.
Another vehicle followed.
Liam looked back.
“Three cars!”
Alessandro's face remained calm.
“Four.”
My phone suddenly rang.
Unknown number.
I stared at it.
Alessandro said, “Don't answer.”
It rang again.
I answered.
A distorted woman's voice whispered:
“You should never have slept with Alessandro.”
My blood froze.
“Who are you?”
“You don't recognize my voice yet.”
“Tell me who you are.”
A laugh.
“You'll know soon.”
Then:
“We've been watching you since you left the hotel.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Why?”
“Because you are carrying something that belongs to us.”
“What?”
The line went dead.
Alessandro looked at me.
“Who was it?”
I didn't answer.
Then the phone buzzed.
A photograph arrived.
I opened it.
It showed me.
Sleeping.
In my apartment.
Taken that morning.
Six hours before Alessandro arrived.
My blood turned ice cold.
Someone had been inside my apartment.
Liam saw the screen.
“Alessandro.”
He looked.
His entire expression changed.
“Delete nothing.”
“Why?”
“Because now we know something.”
“What?”
He pointed at the corner of the photograph.
A tiny reflection in the mirror.
A man standing behind the camera.
Alessandro zoomed in.
I recognized the ring on his hand.
A black stone.
Silver edges.
A Vitali family crest.
May you like
Alessandro whispered:
“My father's ring.”
