Chapter 5 - “No.”
Alessandro stared at the photograph.
“That ring belonged to my father.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I buried him wearing it.”
Nobody spoke.
The cars behind us were gone.
Somehow, Alessandro had lost them.
We entered an underground parking garage owned by one of his companies.
He shut off the engine.
The silence felt unnatural.
Liam looked at the photograph again.
“Could be a copy.”
Alessandro shook his head.
“My father had only one.”
He turned to me.
“Whoever took this photograph wants us to think he's alive.”
“Why?”
“Because fear is useful.”
I looked at the old letter.
“My father said the Vitali family was dangerous.”
Alessandro nodded slowly.
“He was right.”
“You don't seem surprised.”
“I've spent years suspecting my father was involved in things I couldn't prove.”
“Then why didn't you investigate?”
“Because every person who tried to investigate ended up dead.”
His eyes met mine.
“My older brother included.”
I had never heard of an older brother.
“You had a brother?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
The words were too familiar.
I felt sick.
“Like my parents.”
“Yes.”
Liam looked between us.
“You two realize how many dead people are appearing around the same story?”
Nobody laughed.
A security guard approached.
“Mr. Vitali.”
Alessandro nodded.
“Secure the east entrance.”
“Already done.”
“And get me the old property records for the Mercer house.”
The guard hesitated.
“Which records?”
“Everything.”
The guard disappeared.
I turned to Alessandro.
“Take me there.”
“No.”
“I'm not asking.”
“You're not going.”
“You said you wanted the truth.”
“I do.”
“Then stop locking me out.”
He stared at me.
“You think I enjoy watching you put yourself in danger?”
“I think you don't trust me.”
“I don't trust anyone.”
“You trusted me.”
His expression softened for half a second.
“That's exactly the problem.”
Something moved between us.
Something dangerous.
Something neither of us wanted to name.
He looked away.
“Get some sleep.”
“I can't.”
“You can try.”
“I watched my mother die tonight.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“I’m sorry.”
It was the first time he had sounded less like the ruthless Alessandro Vitali from the newspapers and more like the man I remembered from that night.
The man who had looked at me as if I were the only person in the world.
“You shouldn't be sorry,” I whispered.
“I should.”
“Why?”
“Because six weeks ago, I thought you were the biggest complication in my life.”
He touched my stomach.
“Now I know you're the center of it.”
My breath caught.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Say that again.”
A pause.
“Where?”
He looked at me.
“The Mercer house.”
“What happened?”
“Our security team found someone inside.”
“Who?”
He stood.
“Your father.”
My heart stopped.
“That’s impossible.”
“According to the camera, he walked into the house twelve minutes ago.”
I stared at him.
“My father is dead.”
Alessandro looked at me.
“That's what we need to find out.”
The Mercer house stood beyond a row of iron gates.
I hadn't seen it in four years.
The old trees still lined the driveway.
The windows were dark.
The front door hung slightly open.
My chest hurt.
I remembered birthdays.
Christmas mornings.
My mother's piano.
My father's office.
Then the night everything ended.
Alessandro parked.
“I go first.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Fine.”
We entered together.
The house smelled like dust.
Everything had been abandoned.
Or so it seemed.
A photograph lay on the floor.
I picked it up.
It showed me at age ten.
Standing beside my father.
On the back was a date.
The same date my father had mentioned in his letter.
The night we made the deal.
I walked toward his old office.
The door was locked.
Alessandro kicked it open.
Nothing.
Desk.
Books.
Fireplace.
A painting.
I walked to the fireplace.
My father always told me never to touch the painting.
I pulled it down.
Behind it was a wall safe.
Liam whispered, “You know the combination?”
“No.”
I looked at Alessandro.
“Maybe my birthday.”
I entered it.
The safe opened.
Inside was a small black box.
And a USB drive.
I opened the box.
Inside was a key.
Engraved with two letters.
E.M.
Elizabeth Mercer.
I picked up the USB.
A laptop suddenly powered on by itself.
The screen showed a video.
My father appeared.
He looked older than I remembered.
Tired.
Afraid.
“Elizabeth,” he said.
I stopped breathing.
“If you're watching this, it means they've reached you.”
His face tightened.
“And it means Victor failed.”
He leaned closer to the camera.
“Your mother is alive.”
My knees nearly collapsed.
“She was never the target.”
I stared.
“You were.”
The video glitched.
My father's final words came through.
“Because you are not my daughter.”
The screen went black.
Liam swore.
Alessandro turned toward me.
I couldn't move.
Then someone behind us whispered:
“That’s not what he meant.”
We turned.
May you like
A man stood in the doorway.
He looked exactly like my father.
