The name sat behind my teeth like broken glass.
Alessandro waited.
He was still crouched beside Mia, one knee against the polished marble floor, his black tie trapped in her tiny fist.
There were men in Manhattan who had begged Alessandro Duca for mercy and received none.
Bankers lowered their voices when they mentioned him.
Politicians returned his calls before their wives’.
And yet my daughter stared into his cold gray eyes without the slightest fear.
She gave his tie another determined tug.
Alessandro didn’t even blink.
“Elena.”
His voice was quiet.
That made it worse.
“Who told you?”
I swallowed.
“Mr.
Bellini.”
The change in Alessandro’s face was almost invisible.
Almost.
His eyes became still.
Not surprised.
Not confused.
Dangerously still.
“Marco Bellini?”
I nodded.
For several seconds, the only sound in the hallway was Mia babbling softly to herself.
Then Alessandro stood.
His tie slipped from Mia’s fingers.
She immediately protested.
“Da!”
Both of us froze.
Mia slapped one tiny palm against the floor.
“Da!”
My cheeks burned.
“She says that to everything.”
Alessandro looked down at her.
Something strange moved through his expression.
Then it disappeared.
“Pick her up.”
I obeyed immediately.
Mia curled against my chest, completely unaware that my entire life had just cracked open.
Alessandro straightened his cuffs.
“When did Bellini speak to you?”
“My first day.”
“And what exactly did he say?”
I hesitated.
“Elena.”
I tightened my arms around Mia.
“He told me you hated children.”
Alessandro stared at me.
“He said there had never been a child allowed inside your private residence.
He said noise irritated you.
That you valued privacy above everything else.”
His jaw hardened.
“What else?”
I could still hear Marco Bellini’s voice.
Smooth.
Polite.
Almost kind.
He had been standing in the service elevator with me while Mia slept against my shoulder.
I had arrived fifteen minutes early for my first shift because Raymond, the doorman, had told me Alessandro was still downtown.
I had planned to explain.
I had rehearsed the words all night.
My daughter is eight months old.
My childcare arrangement collapsed.
I only need a few weeks.
I promise she won’t disturb you.
Then Bellini had stepped into the elevator.
His eyes had dropped to Mia.
And his smile had vanished.
I told Alessandro exactly what happened.
“He said if you saw her, I would be fired before I finished my first day.”
A muscle moved in Alessandro’s cheek.
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
“Those exact words?”
“Yes.”
“And you believed him.”
It wasn’t a question.
I looked down.
“He’s your chief of staff.”
“My consigliere.”
The Italian word came softly.
It somehow sounded more threatening.
“He manages your household staff.
Your drivers.
Security.
Everyone listens to him.”
“So you listened too.”
“Yes.”
“Did Bellini tell you to hide Mia?”
“No.”
I shifted my daughter higher against my shoulder.
“He told me not to bring her back.”
“But you did.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
The words stung.
I lifted my eyes sharply.
“Maybe for you.”
Silence.
The words had escaped before I could stop them.
Anyone else might have apologized.
I was too tired.
Too frightened.
Too angry.
“You have choices because money gives you choices,” I said.
“If your car breaks, another one arrives.
If someone fails you, you replace them.
If you need something, you buy it.”
His expression remained unreadable.
“When my babysitter disappeared with two weeks of advance payment, I had forty-three dollars in checking and a baby with a fever.”
My throat tightened.
“I called nineteen childcare centers.
Twelve had waiting lists.
Five cost more than my rent.
Two wouldn’t accept infants without enrollment paperwork I couldn’t get until the following month.”
Alessandro said nothing.
“So yes, Mr.
Duca.
There are always choices.”
I pressed a kiss against Mia’s hair.
“But sometimes every choice is terrible.”
Something changed in his eyes.
Not softness.
Alessandro Duca did not seem like a man made for softness.
But he understood.
That was somehow more frightening.
He turned toward the open laundry-room door.
“Show me.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Where she stays.”
Humiliation crawled over my skin.
“You already saw—”
“Show me.”
There was no anger in his voice.
Only command.
I carried Mia into the laundry room.
Alessandro followed.
Suddenly the little nest I had created looked pathetic.
A folded blanket behind a rolling linen cart.
Three stuffed animals.
A plastic container filled with diapers.
Formula.
Baby wipes.
Two bottles.
A tiny battery-powered night-light.
A secondhand baby monitor connected to my phone.
I had hidden everything carefully enough that housekeeping never noticed.
Or pretended not to.
Alessandro stared at the arrangement.
“She spends nine hours here?”
“Not nine.”
“How many?”
“Usually six.”
His eyes moved to mine.
“Where is she the other three?”
“Raymond walks her through the lobby sometimes.
Lucia takes her downstairs during lunch.
I carry her while you’re at meetings.”
“And when I’m home?”
“I keep her here.”
His gaze went toward the blank wall.
The laundry room was larger than my bedroom.
But it had no windows.
My stomach twisted.
“I know how it looks.”
“How does it look?”
“Like I’m a terrible mother.”
His expression hardened.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Elena.”
This time my name sounded different.
He stepped closer.
“You turned a laundry room into a nursery so you could feed your child and keep a roof over her head.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“That doesn’t make this room acceptable.”
His gaze swept across it again.
“It makes the reason you used it understandable.”
My eyes burned.
I looked away quickly.
I refused to cry in front of him.
Especially over kindness.
Kindness was dangerous.
Anger, I knew how to survive.
Kindness made people careless.
Alessandro reached into his pocket and removed his phone.
He tapped once.
“Raymond.”
His voice changed instantly.
Cold.
Controlled.
“Yes.
Come upstairs.”
I panicked.
“Mr.
Duca—”
He ended the call.
“You’re not firing him.”
It came out more forcefully than I intended.
One dark eyebrow lifted.
“He helped me because I asked him to.”
“I know.”
“He could lose his job because of me.”
“He won’t.”
“Then why are you calling him?”
“To ask how many other people knew there was an infant secretly living inside my home.”
My face went hot.
“When you say it like that—”
“How would you prefer I say it?”
Before I could answer, Mia reached toward him.
Again.
Alessandro looked at her hand.
She opened and closed her fingers.
“Da.”
He stared.
I groaned.
“Please stop saying that.”
To my horror, Alessandro almost smiled.
It wasn’t a proper smile.
Just the faintest movement at one corner of his mouth.
It transformed him.
For one second, he looked younger.
Less like a man carved from winter.
Then the elevator chimed.
The smile disappeared.
Raymond entered the hallway.
The elderly doorman took one look at Alessandro standing inside the laundry room with me and Mia and visibly paled.
“Sir.”
“How long have you known?”
Raymond cleared his throat.
“About the little one?”
Alessandro stared.
Raymond sighed.
“First day.”
I closed my eyes.
Traitor.
“Who else?”
“Lucia.”
“I know about Lucia.”
“Rafael, sometimes.”
My eyes opened.
“The driver?”
Raymond gave me an apologetic shrug.
“He saw you sterilizing bottles in the employee kitchen.”
Alessandro pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Who else?”
“Mrs.
Kowalski on forty-seven.”
I stared.
“How does she know?”
“She heard the baby crying in the elevator once.”
“Anyone else?”
Raymond considered.
“The florist.”
“The florist?”
Alessandro repeated.
Raymond shifted uncomfortably.
“And possibly Mr.
Chen from maintenance.”
Alessandro slowly turned toward me.
I wanted the floor to swallow me.
“Apparently,” I whispered, “I wasn’t very good at hiding her.”
“No,” he said.
“Apparently everyone in the building knew there was a baby in my home except me.”
Raymond coughed.
“To be fair, sir, you’re not here much.”
Alessandro looked at him.
Raymond immediately became fascinated by the ceiling.
“What did Bellini tell you?”
Alessandro asked.
Raymond’s expression changed.
There it was.
That tiny hesitation.
Alessandro saw it too.
“Raymond.”
The old man exhaled.
“That the girl would be dismissed if you found out.”
“And?”
“That nobody was to bother you with domestic problems.”
Something cold entered Alessandro’s eyes.
“Did he specifically mention Elena?”
“Yes.”
My heart stumbled.
I looked at Raymond.
“You never told me that.”
“Because you already looked terrified.”
He gave me a sad smile.
“And you needed the work.”
Alessandro became very still.
“When?”
“About a week after she started.”
That made no sense.
I turned toward him.
“A week after?”
Raymond nodded.
“He asked whether you’d brought the child back.”
A chill traveled down my spine.
Alessandro noticed.
“What?”
I hesitated.
“I never told Marco I was still bringing her.”
“Then how did he know?”
None of us answered.
Mia started chewing the shoulder of my uniform.
Alessandro reached for his phone again.
“Where is Bellini?”
Raymond’s face tightened.
“He came in twenty minutes ago.”
My stomach dropped.
“He’s here?”
“Forty-ninth floor.”
Alessandro’s entire presence changed.
The temperature in the room seemed to fall.
“Stay with Elena.”
He moved toward the door.
I followed.
“No.”
He stopped.
I nearly collided with him.
“What?”
“I’m coming.”
“Elena—”
“He did this to me.”
“No.”
His voice was absolute.
“He did something involving you.
I don’t yet know what.”
“I deserve to hear the answer.”
His eyes held mine.
“You have your daughter in your arms.”
“That’s exactly why I deserve to hear it.”
For several seconds neither of us moved.
Then Mia leaned toward Alessandro again.
Of course she did.
Her fingers closed around his jacket lapel.
He glanced down at her hand.
Then back at me.
“Stay behind me.”
Raymond muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.
We took the private elevator upstairs.
Forty-nine belonged to Alessandro too.
I had only been there twice.
Unlike the penthouse, which felt elegant and severe, this floor was designed for business.
Dark wood.
Glass walls.
Muted lights.
No family photographs.
No unnecessary objects.
Everything had purpose.
Marco Bellini was standing at the far end of the conference room when we entered.
He was fifty, silver-haired, handsome in the polished way of men who never seemed to sweat.
He looked at Alessandro.
Then at me.
Then at Mia.
And for the first time since I had met him, Marco Bellini lost control of his face.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
Fear.
“Alessandro.”
“Sit.”
Marco didn’t move.
“What happened?”
Alessandro closed the glass door behind us.
“You know.”
Marco glanced at me.
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Three months ago, you told Elena Ruiz that if I discovered she had brought her daughter into my home, she would be terminated immediately.”
Marco relaxed slightly.
“Oh.”
My skin prickled.
Oh?
“That.”
Alessandro’s voice remained calm.
“Explain.”
Marco gave a faint sigh.
“I was protecting the household.”
“From an eight-month-old?”
“From complications.”
“What complications?”
“Boundaries.”
He finally looked directly at me.
“No disrespect intended, Elena.
But employees cannot simply bring family members into a principal’s private residence.”
“You told her I hated children,” Alessandro said.
Marco’s mouth tightened.
“I simplified.”
“You lied.”
“I prevented a problem.”
Alessandro stepped closer.
“What problem?”
Something passed between the two men.
Something old.
Something I couldn’t understand.
Marco’s voice dropped.
“You know what problem.”
Alessandro stared at him.
“No.
I want to hear you say it.”
Marco looked at Mia.
I instinctively held her closer.
His gaze remained on her face much too long.
Alessandro moved between us.
“Don’t look at her.”
Marco’s attention snapped back to him.
“Alessandro—”
“Why did you ask Raymond whether Elena was still bringing her baby here?”
Marco said nothing.
My heartbeat became painfully loud.
Alessandro took another step.
“How did you know?”
Marco’s face hardened.
“I monitor your household.”
“No.
You monitor threats.”
Silence.
A terrible thought formed in my mind.
“Threat?”
The word came out as a whisper.
Both men looked at me.
“What threat?”
Marco rubbed a hand across his jaw.
“Elena, this has nothing to do with you.”
“You made me hide my daughter in a laundry room for three months.”
My voice shook.
“You do not get to tell me this has nothing to do with me.”
Marco’s expression changed.
For an instant, I saw something that frightened me more than anger.
Pity.
Then he turned to Alessandro.
“You should send her downstairs.”
“No.”
“Alessandro.”
“No.”
Marco exhaled.
“Fine.”
He walked toward the conference table.
Slowly.
His fingers touched the back of a leather chair.
“I recognized the child.”
The world stopped.
I stared at him.
“What?”
Marco looked at me.
“Not her specifically.”
My heart started beating again.
“Then what does that mean?”
“She looks like someone.”
Alessandro’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“Marco.”
But Marco kept looking at me.
“Your daughter’s father.”
Every muscle in my body locked.
“You don’t know him.”
Marco didn’t answer.
My mouth went dry.
“No one here knows him.”
Still nothing.
I felt Alessandro looking at me.
“Elena.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Elena, who is Mia’s father?”
“This isn’t—”
“Who?”
I stepped backward.
Mia sensed the sudden tension and grabbed my collar.
I pressed my cheek against her hair.
“He left.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
I closed my eyes.
I hated saying the name.
Because names made ghosts real again.
“Adrian.”
Alessandro went completely motionless.
Marco looked down.
And suddenly I knew.
They knew him.
My voice barely worked.
“Adrian Vale.”
The silence that followed was unlike anything I had ever heard.
Alessandro’s face emptied of every emotion.
Marco whispered something in Italian.
My heart pounded.
“How do you know Adrian?”
No answer.
“How do you know him?”
“Elena,” Marco said carefully, “what did Adrian tell you about his family?”
“He didn’t have one.”
Alessandro’s eyes closed.
Only for a second.
“He grew up in foster homes,” I continued.
“His parents died when he was young.”
Marco looked at Alessandro.
I saw something unspoken pass between them.
“That wasn’t true,” Marco said.
I stared.
“Yes, it was.”
“No.”
My arms tightened around Mia.
“He showed me photographs.”
“Those weren’t foster homes.”
“What are you talking about?”
Alessandro turned away.
He walked to the windows overlooking Manhattan.
His reflection appeared in the dark glass.
For the first time, he looked shaken.
Not angry.
Shaken.
I couldn’t understand it.
Then I saw his hand.
His fingers were trembling.
Alessandro Duca’s hands were trembling.
“Tell her,” Marco said.
Alessandro didn’t move.
“Tell me what?”
Nothing.
I stepped closer.
“Mr.
Duca.”
He finally turned.
Whatever I saw in his face made my stomach drop.
“Adrian Vale,” he said, “wasn’t his name.”
My knees weakened.
I clutched the edge of the table.
“What?”
“His name was Adriano.”
The room tilted.
“Adriano Duca.”
My lungs stopped working.
I stared at Alessandro.
Then at Mia.
Then back at him.
“No.”
My voice came out broken.
“No.”
Alessandro did not look away.
“Adriano was my younger brother.”
The words struck harder than any physical blow.
Mia whimpered.
I sank into the nearest chair before my legs gave out completely.
Adrian.
My Adrian.
The quiet man who made pancakes at midnight.
Who hated thunderstorms.
Who sang terribly in the shower.
Who had held my face between his hands the night I told him I was pregnant and whispered, We’ll figure everything out.
The man who vanished two weeks later.
No goodbye.
No call.
No body.
Nothing.
I had spent months believing he abandoned us.
Now the most powerful man I had ever met was telling me he had been his brother.
“You’re lying.”
Alessandro flinched.
It was tiny.
But I saw it.
“You’re lying,” I repeated.
“I’m not.”
“Adrian never mentioned you.”
“I know.”
“He never mentioned this family.”
“I know.”
“He said he had no one.”
“I know.”
My voice broke.
“Then why?”
Alessandro looked at Mia.
Because the answer had never mattered more.
“He wanted to disappear.”
Marco spoke instead.
“He and Alessandro had a disagreement.”
Alessandro’s gaze snapped toward him.
“Don’t.”
“A disagreement?”
I laughed bitterly.
“People don’t invent entire lives because of a disagreement.”
Marco looked away.
My heart began pounding again.
“What happened?”
“Elena—”
“What happened to Adrian?”
Alessandro’s silence told me more than words.
I stood.
Mia startled and began crying.
I bounced her automatically.
“Where is he?”
Alessandro didn’t answer.
“Where is Adrian?”
“Elena.”
“You know.”
My voice rose.
“You know what happened to him.”
Alessandro approached slowly.
“Give Mia to Raymond.”
“No.”
“You’re shaking.”
“No.”
“She can feel it.”
That stopped me.
I looked down.
Mia’s face was red, frightened by my fear.
Guilt hit instantly.
Raymond appeared behind me.
“Come here, princess.”
For three months, he had carried her through the lobby while I cleaned rooms upstairs.
Mia knew him.
I kissed her forehead and reluctantly placed her in his arms.
The moment she was safe, I turned back.
“Tell me.”
Alessandro looked toward Marco.
Marco gave the smallest shake of his head.
Alessandro ignored him.
“Adriano disappeared eighteen months ago.”
“He disappeared from me eleven months ago.”
“I know.”
I felt sick.
“You knew where he was?”
“We found out afterward.”
“We?”
“My security team.”
“Why were you looking for him?”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened.
“Because someone was trying to kill him.”
Everything inside me became cold.
I stared.
“What?”
“Adriano took something when he left.”
Marco’s voice hardened.
“Something extremely valuable.”
“What?”
Alessandro answered this time.
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
Neither man spoke.
My patience shattered.
“Stop protecting me from answers!
I spent eleven months thinking the father of my child threw us away.
I gave birth alone.
I almost lost our apartment.
I hid my daughter beside detergent bottles so I could keep a job in your house without knowing that you were her uncle.”
My voice cracked.
“Tell me what happened to him.”
Alessandro’s face tightened at the word uncle.
He looked toward Mia in Raymond’s arms.
Mia had stopped crying.
She was watching him.
Studying him.
Alessandro’s voice became almost inaudible.
“The last message I received from my brother said he had discovered someone inside my organization was betraying me.”
I slowly looked at Marco.
Marco’s expression didn’t change.
“He collected records,” Alessandro continued.
“Accounts.
Names.
Transactions.
Enough information to destroy several powerful people.”
“And then?”
“He vanished.”
“Was he killed?”
Alessandro hesitated.
That hesitation destroyed me.
“We never found his body.”
My vision blurred.
I gripped the table.
“You think he’s dead.”
“I thought he was.”
Thought.
My head snapped up.
“Thought?”
Alessandro’s eyes sharpened.
I saw it.
Something had changed.
A calculation.
A connection.
“Marco,” he said.
Marco stiffened.
“When did you first see Elena?”
Marco said nothing.
“Her first day,” I whispered.
“No.”
Alessandro stared at him.
“When did you first see her?”
The room became frighteningly quiet.
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“Answer me.”
“Before.”
My blood went cold.
“How long before?”
Marco stared at Alessandro.
“Six months.”
I stopped breathing.
Six months.
That meant Marco had seen me while Adrian was still with me.
“Where?”
Alessandro asked.
Marco said nothing.
Alessandro stepped forward.
“Where?”
“At a café in Queens.”
My legs weakened.
Adrian and I had lived in Queens.
“What were you doing there?”
No answer.
Then something hit me.
A memory.
A rainy afternoon.
Adrian sitting across from me at a café.
His face pale.
Looking repeatedly over my shoulder.
He had taken my hand and said, If anything ever happens to me, don’t trust anyone who says they knew my family.
At the time, I thought he was being dramatic.
Two weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant.
Six months later, he vanished.
I looked at Marco.
“You were following him.”
His silence answered.
Alessandro’s face turned deadly.
“You told me you hadn’t located him.”
Marco spread his hands.
“I was protecting you.”
Those words again.
Alessandro laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“You were protecting me?”
“Adriano was unstable.”
“My brother was frightened.”
“He was going to destroy everything.”
“What everything?”
Marco glanced toward Raymond.
Toward Mia.
Then back at Alessandro.
“The empire your father built.”
Alessandro moved so quickly I barely saw it.
One second Marco was standing.
The next Alessandro had him against the glass wall.
Raymond turned Mia’s face against his shoulder.
“Where is my brother?”
Alessandro’s voice was terrifyingly soft.
Marco stared at him.
“You still don’t understand.”
“Where is he?”
“I never killed Adriano.”
“Then who did?”
“No one.”
Silence.
Alessandro’s grip loosened.
I stepped forward.
“What did you say?”
Marco looked directly at me.
“No one killed him.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Then where is he?”
Marco smiled.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
Like a man who had finally reached the part of the conversation he had been waiting for.
“You think Elena accidentally applied for a housekeeping job in your building?”
Alessandro’s face changed.
I stared at Marco.
“What?”
“You think out of thousands of apartments in Manhattan, she just happened to end up inside yours?”
My mouth went dry.
“I found the job online.”
“Yes.”
“The agency sent me here.”
“Yes.”
“You arranged it?”
“No.”
Marco’s smile faded.
“I tried to stop it.”
A terrifying thought entered Alessandro’s eyes.
“Who arranged it?”
Marco said nothing.
Alessandro released him slowly.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
Someone had sent me here.
Someone had placed me inside Alessandro Duca’s home.
My eyes moved toward Mia.
No.
Impossible.
I remembered the staffing agency.
The unusually quick interview.
The woman who told me the penthouse position paid almost double the normal rate.
The way she said the employer specifically preferred someone named Elena.
At the time, I thought she had confused me with another applicant.
My stomach twisted.
“Who arranged it?”
I whispered.
Marco looked at me.
Then at the baby.
His eyes softened with something dangerously close to sadness.
“You really don’t know.”
“Know what?”
Marco reached slowly into his jacket.
Alessandro immediately moved.
“Hands where I can see them.”
“It’s a phone.”
“Slowly.”
Marco removed it.
He unlocked the screen.
Tapped several times.
Then placed it on the conference table.
“There.”
Alessandro stared at the screen.
His face lost all color.
I had never imagined Alessandro Duca could look afraid.
But he did.
I stepped forward.
“What is it?”
He didn’t answer.
I looked down.
An encrypted message filled the screen.
There were only six words.
SHE AND THE CHILD ARE INSIDE.
Below it was a timestamp.
Three months ago.
The morning of my first day.
My blood turned to ice.
“Who sent that?”
Marco looked at Alessandro.
Alessandro seemed incapable of speaking.
So Marco answered.
“The same person who arranged your job.”
I shook my head.
“Who?”
Marco tapped the screen again.
A photograph opened.
Blurry.
Taken from across a street.
A man in a dark baseball cap was walking away from the camera.
My breath caught.
I knew those shoulders.
That walk.
The slight tilt of his head.
No.
My knees almost buckled.
“No.”
The photograph had been taken twelve days ago.
I grabbed the phone with trembling hands.
“No.”
“Elena—” Alessandro started.
I enlarged the image.
The man’s face was partly hidden.
But not enough.
A scar crossed his left eyebrow.
I had kissed that scar a hundred times.
My hands began shaking violently.
“Adrian.”
Raymond whispered a prayer.
Marco watched me without expression.
Alessandro looked as though someone had driven a blade between his ribs.
Because his brother wasn’t dead.
Adrian had been alive.
Alive while I gave birth alone.
Alive while Mia got sick.
Alive while I cried myself to sleep wondering why he had abandoned us.
Alive while I worked ten-hour shifts and hid his daughter in a laundry room.
I thought grief would hit me.
Instead, rage did.
“Where is he?”
Marco didn’t answer.
I stepped closer.
“WHERE IS HE?”
Mia began crying again.
The sound stopped me cold.
I closed my eyes.
Breathed.
Opened them.
Alessandro was watching me.
But he wasn’t looking at my face.
He was staring at the phone.
At the photograph.
At something underneath it.
A second message.
He took the phone from my hand.
His expression changed.
“What?”
I whispered.
“Elena.”
“What?”
He turned the screen toward me.
My entire body went numb.
The message had arrived nine minutes ago.
While we were downstairs.
While Alessandro had been holding his tie away from Mia’s tiny hands.
While I had been confessing my secret.
It read:
YOU FOUND HER.
NOW ASK ELENA WHAT SHE WAS GIVEN THE NIGHT BEFORE I DISAPPEARED.
Alessandro slowly raised his eyes to mine.
I stopped breathing.
Because there was something I had never told anyone.
Not the police.
Not my mother.
Not even the private investigator I paid with the last of my savings.
The night before Adrian disappeared, he had placed a small silver key in my hand.
He had closed my fingers around it and made me promise never to tell anyone.
I still had it.
Hidden inside Mia’s favorite stuffed rabbit.
And until that moment, I had believed it opened nothing more dangerous than Adrian’s old storage locker.
But Alessandro’s face told me I was wrong.
Very wrong.
Then a new sound came from the phone.
One incoming video call.
No caller ID.
Everyone froze.
Marco went pale.
Alessandro stared at the screen.
My heart stopped.
The phone continued ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then Alessandro answered.
The screen went black.
For several seconds, there was only static.
Then a man appeared.
Older.
Thinner.
A healing bruise along his jaw.
But alive.
Very much alive.
I forgot how to breathe.
His eyes found mine through the screen.
“Elena.”
My knees gave out.
Alessandro caught my arm.
Adrian stared at his brother.
Then at Marco.
His expression turned cold.
“You shouldn’t have trusted him, Ale.”
Alessandro’s grip tightened around the phone.
“Where are you?”
Adrian ignored the question.
“Elena, listen carefully.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“You left us.”
Pain flashed across his face.
“I know.”
“You knew I was pregnant.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
My voice shattered.
“You knew and you still—”
“I left because if I stayed, they would have killed you both.”
“Who?”
Adrian looked directly into the camera.
Then he said something that made Alessandro slowly turn toward Marco.
“Ask Bellini why he ordered the bomb placed in my car.”
Marco stepped backward.
“That’s a lie.”
Adrian’s eyes hardened.
“And ask Alessandro why our father’s will says that if I have a living child, everything belongs to her.”
No one moved.
I looked at Mia.
Eight months old.
Laughing softly now in Raymond’s arms.
Completely unaware that every adult in the room had just begun looking at her differently.
Not like a hidden baby.
Not like an inconvenience.
Like an heir.
And then the lights went out.
…If you want to know what happened next, please type “YES” and like for more.
Source: Stories of Destiny · Thanh Thanh
