Chapter 11 - The Woman They Never Meant to Touch
I wanted Carlo dead.
Immediately.
But anger was useless without information.
“Where is Emma?”
Carlo poured himself a drink.
“You still ask the wrong question.”
I grabbed his collar.
“Where?”
He smiled.
“Ask why Kolov wanted her.”
I tightened my grip.
“Talk.”
“Your father and Maria had an agreement.”
“What agreement?”
“Emma would inherit something.”
“What?”
“Control.”
I released him.
“Of what?”
Carlo’s eyes gleamed.
“The organization.”
I stared.
Emma.
A housekeeper.
The woman who folded towels and counted tips.
The woman who apologized for being tired.
My daughter had been named heir to an empire she didn't know existed.
Carlo continued.
“Your father changed the succession plan before he died.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew you would destroy the family.”
“And he trusted Emma?”
“He believed she was untouched by this world.”
I laughed bitterly.
“And now she’s in the middle of it.”
“Yes.”
“Who took her?”
Carlo looked at the clock.
“Someone your father feared more than Kolov.”
“Who?”
He smiled.
“Maria.”
My chest tightened.
“My mother?”
Carlo nodded.
“She has been alive for eleven years.”
“You said my mother disappeared.”
“She did.”
“Where is she?”
Carlo opened a drawer.
Inside was a photograph.
Maria stood beside Emma.
Recent.
Very recent.
Emma looked older.
Healthy.
The photograph had been taken three days ago.
“She’s been watching Emma.”
“Why?”
“To make sure she never remembers.”
“Remembers what?”
Carlo leaned closer.
“Who killed Antonio.”
I stared at him.
“You said my father saved him.”
“He did.”
“Then who killed him?”
Carlo smiled.
“You did.”
The room went silent.
My childhood memory returned.
The river.
Rain.
Blood.
My father shouting.
A man falling.
I had always believed I was too young to understand what I saw.
But maybe I wasn't.
Maybe my father had forced me to forget.
Maybe I had witnessed something terrible.
Carlo continued.
“Antonio survived that night.”
“Then who killed him?”
“Maria.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She loved him.”
“She loved Emma more.”
Carlo handed me another photograph.
Antonio Carter.
Alive.
Then another.
His body.
A gunshot wound.
A third photograph.
Maria standing beside him.
I felt sick.
“She killed him to protect Emma.”
“From what?”
Carlo looked at me.
“Because Antonio was Emma’s real father.”
I stared.
“No.”
He smiled.
“Your mother lied.”
Everything I believed had collapsed.
Emma wasn’t my daughter.
Or perhaps she was.
I didn’t know.
Carlo leaned back.
“DNA tests can be manipulated.”
I remembered the report.
The blacked-out document.
The private laboratory.
The missing chain of custody.
A setup.
Carlo stood.
“Your father wanted you to believe Emma was yours.”
“Why?”
“Because if you loved her…”
He paused.
“You would protect her.”
My phone rang.
Unknown.
I answered.
Maria spoke.
“Dominic.”
I closed my eyes.
“Where is Emma?”
“She is with me.”
“Put her on.”
“She is safe.”
“Let me hear her voice.”
Silence.
Then Emma spoke.
“Dad?”
My entire body froze.
“Emma.”
“Don’t come.”
“Why?”
She whispered:
May you like
“Because Mom says you were the one who killed my father.”
Then the line went dead.
