PART 2.
The person standing in Alessandro Moretti’s doorway saw the laboratory report in his hand—and immediately stopped breathing.
Alessandro read the name one final time.
Then he lifted his steel-gray eyes.
The mansion seemed to go silent around them.
Because the person who had been poisoning him was not an enemy.
It was someone who had been sitting at his table for years.
Someone he had trusted with his life.
“Come in,” Alessandro said.
His voice was calm.
That frightened me more than if he had shouted.
I stood near the bookshelves with Emma asleep against my shoulder, her cheek pressed into my collarbone and Mr.
Rabbit trapped between us.
Alessandro had insisted that I remain in the office after the doctor called.
At first, I hadn’t understood why.
Then I saw the name on the report.
Dr.
Victor Hale.
Alessandro’s private physician.
The man now standing in the doorway.
Dr.
Hale was in his early fifties, silver-haired, perfectly dressed, and always carrying the faint scent of expensive soap.
During my first week at the estate, I had seen him nearly every morning.
He checked Alessandro’s blood pressure.
Reviewed his medications.
Adjusted his pain treatment.
And, on three separate occasions, personally handed Alessandro the nutritional drink he insisted was necessary because Alessandro had “lost his appetite.”
Now Hale’s eyes moved from the report to Alessandro.
Then to me.
Then to Emma.
Something flickered across his face.
Not guilt.
Calculation.
“You asked to see me?” he said.
Alessandro folded the laboratory report once.
Very carefully.
“Yes.”
Hale stepped inside.
Behind him, Alessandro’s security chief, Matteo Russo, quietly closed the door.
The click of the lock sounded deafening.
Hale glanced over his shoulder.
“Is that necessary?”
Alessandro leaned back in his wheelchair.
“Apparently.”
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Alessandro placed the report on his desk.
“Tell me about thallium.”
Hale’s face didn’t change.
But his left hand tightened around the leather handle of his medical bag.
I noticed.
So did Alessandro.
“Thallium?”
Hale repeated.
“Yes.”
“It’s toxic.”
“I gathered that.”
“Why are you asking?”
Alessandro’s eyes never left him.
“Because enough of it was found in my blood to explain the nausea, weakness, nerve pain, appetite loss, and several other symptoms you’ve been treating for the past three months.”
Hale stared at him.
Then he gave a short, incredulous laugh.
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.
Your blood panels were normal.”
“Your blood panels were normal.”
The distinction hung in the room.
Hale’s jaw shifted.
Alessandro continued.
“I sent a sample to a laboratory you didn’t choose.”
Silence.
“They found repeated exposure,” he said.
“Small doses.
Administered over time.”
Hale slowly removed his glasses.
“This is absurd.”
“Perhaps.”
“You’re accusing me?”
“I haven’t accused anyone.”
Alessandro slid the paper across the desk.
“You should read the second page.”
Hale didn’t move.
That was when I understood.
An innocent man would have grabbed it.
He would have demanded to see the evidence.
Hale merely stared at the paper as though he already knew what it said.
Alessandro’s expression hardened.
“You ordered the supplement.”
“Yes.”
“You changed the manufacturer three months ago.”
“Yes, because—”
“You insisted that only you or one of two nurses prepare it.”
“For medical consistency.”
“And according to the pharmacy records, the replacement product was never supplied by the manufacturer whose label appeared on the bottles.”
Hale’s face finally lost color.
Matteo shifted closer to the door.
Emma stirred against my shoulder.
I wanted to leave.
Every instinct told me that my daughter and I had somehow wandered into a world where mistakes were buried beneath concrete foundations.
But Alessandro had asked us to stay.
And strangely, I had begun to understand why.
Emma was the reason any of this had been discovered.
Three days earlier, she had refused to let Alessandro drink his afternoon shake.
She had wrinkled her nose, pushed the glass away, and declared, “It smells like pennies.”
Everyone had laughed.
Everyone except Alessandro.
He had looked at the glass for a very long time.
Then he had sent it away for testing.
The drink itself had contained nothing.
But the suspicion had been enough for him to order new blood work.
Now Dr.
Hale was trapped between the locked door and a man he had apparently been poisoning for months.
Hale put his glasses back on.
“You don’t understand what you’re reading.”
Alessandro’s voice lowered.
“Then explain it.”
“I was treating you.”
“With poison?”
“With medication.”
“Thallium isn’t medication.”
“No.”
The word escaped before Hale could stop it.
Matteo straightened.
Alessandro’s eyes sharpened.
Hale closed his eyes for one second.
When he opened them again, something had changed.
The pleasant family doctor was gone.
“You weren’t supposed to die,” he said.
My stomach twisted.
Alessandro remained perfectly still.
“What was supposed to happen?”
Hale looked toward me.
“Send the woman away.”
“No.”
“Alessandro.”
“You’ve known me twelve years, Victor.
You know repeating yourself irritates me.”
Hale’s mouth tightened.
Then he looked at Alessandro almost sadly.
“You were supposed to deteriorate.”
“Why?”
“So they could remove you.”
“Who?”
Hale laughed softly.
“You think this is about your money?”
“I think everything in this house eventually becomes about money.”
“No.”
For the first time, fear appeared in Hale’s eyes.
“This is bigger.”
Matteo spoke.
“Names.”
Hale ignored him.
Instead, he walked toward Alessandro’s desk.
Matteo immediately moved forward.
Alessandro lifted two fingers.
Matteo stopped.
Hale stood across from Alessandro.
“You have spent two years believing the ambush took your legs.”
Something cold moved through the room.
Alessandro’s face became unreadable.
“It did.”
“No.”
Hale’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“The bullets damaged your spine.”
Alessandro’s fingers tightened against the armrest.
“But not enough.”
I felt my breath catch.
Hale continued.
“You had swelling.
Compression.
Complications.
But your initial prognosis wasn’t permanent paralysis.”
Alessandro stared at him.
“That’s a lie.”
“I saw the scans.”
“So did I.”
“You saw the scans I gave you.”
Nothing moved.
Nothing breathed.
Even Matteo looked shaken.
Alessandro’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“What are you saying?”
Hale swallowed.
“Your condition was worsened after surgery.”
For one terrible moment, Alessandro looked almost humanly lost.
Not powerful.
Not feared.
Just a man hearing that two years of his life might have been stolen from him.
“Worsened how?”
Hale didn’t answer.
Alessandro slammed his hand against the desk.
Emma jerked awake.
“Daddy?”
The word came from her sleepy mouth automatically.
Everyone froze.
Emma blinked.
She realized where she was.
Then she looked at me.
“Sorry, Mommy.”
I kissed her hair.
“It’s okay.”
But Alessandro was staring at her.
Something passed across his face.
Then vanished.
He looked back at Hale.
“Answer me.”
Hale exhaled.
“A compound was introduced during your postoperative treatment.
It increased inflammation around the damaged area.
Later, certain medications interfered with nerve recovery.”
Matteo whispered a curse.
My hand covered Emma’s ear.
Alessandro said nothing.
Hale continued, faster now, as though once the secret had broken loose he could no longer contain it.
“The plan wasn’t necessarily to keep you paralyzed forever.
They needed you dependent.
Isolated.
Angry.
Unstable.”
“Who is they?”
“You know.”
“No.
I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
Hale leaned forward.
“The people who benefited while you disappeared into this wing.”
Alessandro’s eyes flickered.
His brother handled the shipping division.
His uncle controlled several construction companies.
Senior partners had taken responsibility for overseas assets.
People had built entire kingdoms inside the shadow of Alessandro’s wheelchair.
“Give me a name,” Alessandro said.
Hale shook his head.
“I give you that name, I won’t leave this house alive.”
“You may not leave anyway.”
“Exactly.”
Alessandro stared at him.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
It was not a pleasant smile.
“You poisoned me for months, Victor.”
“I slowed you down.”
“You poisoned me.”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re worried about trust?”
Hale’s face twisted.
“You still think I’m the traitor.”
“You’re standing in my office admitting you poisoned me.”
“I was keeping you alive.”
The statement silenced everyone.
Alessandro’s smile disappeared.
Hale looked toward the door.
Then the windows.
Then back at Alessandro.
“They wanted you dead after the ambush.”
“Who?”
“I convinced them killing you would create too many questions.
A martyr is dangerous.
A cripple is manageable.”
The cruelty of the word made my stomach turn.
Alessandro showed no reaction.
“So you volunteered to manage me.”
“Yes.”
“With poison.”
“With enough to keep you weak.”
“And if I had died?”
Hale hesitated.
“That was a risk.”
Alessandro gave a tiny nod.
Almost thoughtful.
Then he reached for his phone.
Hale suddenly shouted.
“Wait.”
Alessandro paused.
“There’s something else.”
“There always is.”
Hale looked at Emma.
My arms tightened around her.
“Don’t look at my daughter,” I snapped.
His eyes returned to Alessandro.
“The child noticed the drink.”
Alessandro’s expression changed.
Hale saw it.
“They know.”
My heart seemed to stop.
“Who knows?”
I asked.
Hale didn’t answer me.
Alessandro did.
“The people watching the house.”
I stared at him.
“You said we were safe here.”
“I believed you were.”
“Believed?”
Emma pressed closer to me.
Matteo crossed the room and pulled the curtain aside by two inches, studying the grounds.
Hale shook his head.
“You still don’t understand.
Someone has been reporting everything.
Your meals.
Your visitors.
Your physical therapy schedule.
Even what rooms you use.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Alessandro’s stare became murderous.
Hale raised both hands.
“I swear.”
“You expect me to believe you took orders from someone whose identity you never learned?”
“I dealt through an intermediary.”
“Name.”
Hale hesitated.
“Gabriel.”
Matteo turned sharply.
Alessandro’s face changed.
Not much.
But enough.
I noticed.
“Who’s Gabriel?”
I asked.
Neither man answered.
Then Alessandro looked at Matteo.
“Get Sofia.”
Matteo’s expression became uncertain.
“Boss—”
“Now.”
Matteo unlocked the door.
Before he could open it, someone knocked.
Three soft knocks.
A pause.
Then two more.
Matteo looked at Alessandro.
Alessandro nodded.
The door opened.
An elegant woman in a cream dress stood outside.
I recognized her immediately.
Sofia Moretti.
Alessandro’s younger sister.
She had been kind to me on my first day, helping Emma find the staff room and giving her a small cup of strawberries.
Now she looked from Matteo to Hale.
Then to Alessandro.
“What happened?”
Alessandro watched her carefully.
“Do you know anyone named Gabriel?”
Sofia went pale.
It happened so quickly that she couldn’t hide it.
Hale closed his eyes.
Alessandro saw.
“Sofia.”
She stepped into the room.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Answer me.”
Her gaze fell on the laboratory report.
Then on Hale.
“You told him?”
Hale shook his head.
“Not everything.”
Alessandro’s voice cut between them.
“You two know each other?”
Sofia stared at Hale with naked fury.
“You idiot.”
I took one step backward.
Emma wrapped both arms around my neck.
Alessandro looked from his sister to his doctor.
For the first time since I had met him, he seemed genuinely blindsided.
“Sofia?”
She turned toward him.
“There are things Father never told you.”
“Our father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then this should be a short conversation.”
Sofia’s eyes filled with something that looked almost like grief.
“Gabriel Moretti was our brother.”
Alessandro didn’t move.
I thought I had misheard.
Matteo whispered, “What?”
Sofia continued.
“He was born eleven months before you.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“Our mother had two children.”
“She raised two children.”
Alessandro stared at her.
Sofia stepped closer.
“Gabriel’s mother was Elena Russo.”
Matteo’s face drained of color.
Alessandro slowly looked toward him.
Matteo seemed equally shocked.
“My aunt?” he asked.
Sofia nodded.
“Before Father married our mother.”
Alessandro’s voice was flat.
“If this were true, I would know.”
“Father made sure you didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel was born sick.”
No one spoke.
“He had congenital heart problems,” Sofia said.
“Father refused to acknowledge him publicly.
Elena accepted money and disappeared.
Years later, Gabriel needed surgery.
Father promised to pay for it.”
Sofia’s voice broke.
“He changed his mind.”
Alessandro stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel had started telling people who his father was.”
A dark understanding entered Alessandro’s eyes.
“Our father threatened him.”
“He did more than threaten him.”
Sofia looked at the floor.
“Gabriel’s mother died in a house fire when Gabriel was fifteen.”
Matteo swore under his breath.
“And you think Father did it?”
Alessandro asked.
“I know he did.”
“How?”
“Because I heard him admit it.”
The mansion suddenly felt colder.
Alessandro’s father had been dead for six years, yet his shadow still seemed to stretch across every wall.
“What does this have to do with the ambush?”
Sofia looked at Hale.
He answered.
“Gabriel survived.”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened.
“And came back.”
“Yes.”
“To kill me for something our father did?”
“No.”
Hale looked almost frightened again.
“He doesn’t want revenge against you.”
“Then what does he want?”
“Everything.”
Alessandro laughed once.
“There it is.”
“You inherited the legitimate companies.
The properties.
The shipping interests.
The trusts.
More than that—you inherited the name.”
“So he shoots me?”
“The ambush wasn’t supposed to kill you.”
Alessandro’s eyes sharpened.
“You said they wanted me dead.”
“They did afterward.”
Hale’s breathing quickened.
“The original attack had another purpose.”
“What purpose?”
Hale looked down at Alessandro’s legs.
Understanding spread across the room.
“They meant to put me in this chair.”
Hale said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Alessandro’s face became completely still.
I had never seen rage so controlled.
It was almost worse than violence.
He rolled his wheelchair toward Hale.
“You altered my treatment.”
“Yes.”
“You prevented recovery.”
“Yes.”
“You spent two years telling me nothing more could be done.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me dismiss therapists because I believed they were giving me false hope.”
Hale’s eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
“And now?”
Hale looked at him.
“Now I don’t know.”
Alessandro frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t know how much damage is permanent.”
The words seemed to strike Alessandro harder than everything else.
His hand went to his right thigh.
Almost unconsciously.
“Could I recover?”
Hale hesitated.
“Possibly.”
One word.
That was all.
But the atmosphere changed.
Alessandro looked down at his legs.
For two years, they had been symbols of what had been taken from him.
Now suddenly they represented something far more dangerous.
Hope.
Emma squirmed in my arms.
“Down, Mommy.”
“Not now.”
“Please.”
“No.”
She gave me the look only three-year-olds have perfected.
Then Alessandro spoke.
“Let her.”
I stared at him.
“This is really not the time.”
“Probably not.”
But Emma was already sliding down.
She walked toward Alessandro.
I followed two steps behind.
She stopped beside his wheelchair and put Mr.
Rabbit on his lap.
“For you.”
Alessandro looked down at the battered stuffed rabbit.
One ear bent permanently sideways.
A blue crayon line crossed its stomach.
“Why?”
“You’re sad again.”
“I’m not sad.”
Emma studied him.
“Yes, you are.”
Alessandro glanced at me.
I almost smiled despite everything.
Then Emma put both hands on his knee.
Hale suddenly went rigid.
“Move her.”
Emma frowned.
Alessandro looked at Hale.
“What?”
“Move the child.”
“Why?”
Hale stared at Emma’s hand.
“She shouldn’t—”
Emma pressed Alessandro’s knee.
Alessandro flinched.
Everyone froze.
Emma did it again.
A light push.
His right leg jerked.
Alessandro stared down.
Matteo took one step closer.
I felt goosebumps rise across my arms.
Hale whispered, “No.”
Alessandro slowly placed his hand over his thigh.
“Do that again.”
Emma pressed his knee.
His quadriceps tightened.
Barely.
But visibly.
Alessandro’s breathing changed.
He looked at Hale.
“You knew.”
Hale backed away.
“You knew I had movement.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew.”
“The response could be reflexive.”
Alessandro gripped the arms of his wheelchair.
“Matteo.”
Hale turned toward the door.
Too late.
Matteo caught him.
Hale fought harder than I expected.
His medical bag crashed to the floor.
Bottles rolled across the marble.
A syringe slid beneath Alessandro’s desk.
And then a small black phone skittered into the center of the room.
Not Hale’s normal phone.
A second one.
Sofia stared at it.
“Don’t touch that.”
Everyone stopped.
The screen lit up.
One incoming message.
No name.
Only a symbol.
A black crown.
Alessandro picked up the phone.
The message contained seven words.
YOU HAD ONE JOB.
FINISH IT TONIGHT.
No one spoke.
Then a second message appeared.
THE WOMAN AND CHILD ARE NOW A PROBLEM.
My blood turned cold.
Emma looked up at me.
“Mommy?”
I lifted her immediately.
Alessandro’s face became terrifying.
Not loud.
Not wild.
Empty.
“Matteo.”
“Yes.”
“Lock the estate.”
Matteo grabbed his radio.
“No one enters.
No one leaves.”
Sofia stepped forward.
“Alessandro, if Gabriel knows about them—”
“Then he has someone inside.”
Hale laughed.
Everyone looked at him.
There was blood at the corner of his mouth where Matteo had struck him.
“You’re finally catching up.”
Matteo grabbed his collar.
“Who?”
Hale smiled.
“You think I was sending those reports?”
Alessandro stared at him.
“You weren’t?”
“I didn’t know about the child until today.”
Silence.
My stomach dropped.
The message had arrived seconds after Emma touched Alessandro’s leg.
Someone had seen it.
Someone nearby.
Alessandro’s eyes moved slowly around the room.
The windows.
The ceiling.
The shelves.
“Cameras,” he said.
Matteo immediately began searching.
He checked the smoke detector.
The lamp.
The bookshelves.
Then Sofia pointed.
“The clock.”
There was an antique brass clock on the mantel.
Matteo pulled it down.
Behind the number twelve, almost invisible, sat a tiny lens.
Alessandro stared at it.
For years, someone had been watching him inside his own office.
Matteo crushed the device beneath his shoe.
The black phone vibrated again.
This time it was not a message.
It was a video.
Alessandro opened it.
The footage showed the front gates of the Moretti estate.
Live.
A black sedan was parked across the street.
Then the camera shifted.
The angle changed.
Whoever was filming was moving.
Closer.
Closer.
Until the mansion filled the screen.
A final message appeared.
YOU SHOULD HAVE EATEN YOUR SOUP, BROTHER.
Alessandro’s face went white.
Outside, somewhere deep in the mansion, a security alarm began to scream.
Matteo’s radio exploded with voices.
“East gate breach!”
“Two vehicles!”
“Power just went out in sector three!”
The lights flickered.
Emma screamed.
I held her against me.
Alessandro pointed toward the hidden door behind his bookcase.
“Take Elena and Emma downstairs.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
His eyes snapped to mine.
“This is not a discussion.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
Something unreadable appeared on his face.
Then the lights died.
Complete darkness swallowed the room.
People shouted in the corridor.
A gunshot cracked somewhere downstairs.
Then another.
Emma buried her face against my neck.
Emergency lights flashed red along the walls.
Matteo drew his weapon.
Sofia pulled me toward the hidden door.
“Move!”
Alessandro caught my wrist.
For one second, in the pulsing red light, our eyes met.
“If anything happens,” he said, “the tunnel leads under the greenhouse.
Don’t stop until you reach the river road.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll follow.”
“You promise?”
His fingers tightened.
“I promise.”
Something slammed into the office door.
Matteo raised his gun.
“GO!”
Sofia pulled me into the passage.
The hidden door closed behind us.
Emma was crying now.
“Mommy, Mr.
Rabbit!”
I looked down.
Her rabbit was gone.
She had left him on Alessandro’s lap.
“We’ll get him later.”
“No!”
“Emma, please.”
The tunnel was narrow and dark.
Sofia activated the flashlight on her phone.
We hurried down stone steps.
Above us came another burst of gunfire.
Then silence.
Too much silence.
We reached the underground corridor.
Sofia stopped suddenly.
“What?”
She turned around.
Her face was pale.
“There should be guards here.”
The corridor was empty.
A steel security door at the far end stood open.
Someone had already been through.
Sofia whispered, “No.”
Then we heard footsteps behind us.
Slow.
Measured.
Coming down the staircase we had just used.
Sofia pushed me behind her.
She reached beneath her dress and pulled out a small pistol.
I stared.
“You have a gun?”
“I’m a Moretti.”
The footsteps came closer.
A shadow stretched across the tunnel wall.
Sofia raised the weapon.
“Stop.”
The footsteps stopped.
A man’s voice answered from the darkness.
“I wouldn’t do that, little sister.”
Sofia’s entire body went rigid.
I felt Emma stop crying.
The man stepped into the red emergency light.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Gray-eyed.
For one impossible second, I thought Alessandro had somehow walked down the stairs.
The resemblance was that strong.
But this man was standing.
Smiling.
And there was something colder in his face.
Sofia lowered the gun by half an inch.
“Gabriel.”
He smiled.
“Hello, Sofia.”
My heart stopped.
Gabriel Moretti looked at me.
Then at Emma.
And smiled wider.
“So this is the little girl.”
I pulled Emma behind me.
“Stay away from her.”
He tilted his head.
“You misunderstand.”
He reached slowly inside his coat.
Sofia raised the gun again.
“Don’t.”
Gabriel withdrew a folded envelope.
Nothing more.
He held it toward me.
“For Elena.”
I stared at him.
“How do you know my name?”
His smile disappeared.
“Because Alessandro isn’t the only person in this mansion whose past has been hidden.”
The tunnel seemed to tilt beneath me.
“What are you talking about?”
Gabriel looked at Emma.
Not cruelly.
Almost curiously.
Then he said the words that changed everything.
“Ask Alessandro why he hired you.”
My mouth went dry.
“I applied for the job.”
“No.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“You were selected.”
Behind us, somewhere beyond the hidden wall, gunfire erupted again.
Gabriel didn’t even flinch.
“He knew who you were before you ever walked through those gates.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
He offered me the envelope again.
This time I took it.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was an old photograph.
A woman stood beside a young man outside a hospital.
The man was Alessandro.
Much younger.
Standing.
Smiling.
And the woman—
I recognized her immediately.
My mother.
Written across the bottom were four words.
Chicago, October 12, 2001.
I stared at the picture.
“My mother never knew him.”
Gabriel’s eyes remained on mine.
“Yes, she did.”
Emma tugged on my sleeve.
“Mommy?”
I could barely breathe.
Sofia looked equally stunned.
“What does Elena’s mother have to do with Alessandro?”
Gabriel’s expression hardened.
“Everything.”
A gunshot exploded behind him.
Gabriel staggered.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
Sofia screamed.
Two men appeared at the far end of the corridor.
Gabriel fired back.
“RUN!”
Sofia grabbed my arm.
We ran.
Emma bounced against my chest, sobbing.
Behind us came gunfire.
Shouting.
Then Gabriel’s voice.
“ELENA!”
I looked back.
He was on one knee.
Blood covered his sleeve.
“ASK HIM ABOUT THE ACCIDENT!”
My feet stopped.
“What accident?”
Sofia pulled me.
“MOVE!”
Gabriel shouted again.
“YOUR FATHER DIDN’T DIE BY ACCIDENT!”
The words struck me like a physical blow.
My father had died when I was four.
A car crash.
That was what my mother had always told me.
A wet road.
A guardrail.
Instantaneous.
I turned back.
But smoke poured through the corridor now.
Gabriel had vanished.
Sofia dragged me through the steel door.
We ran beneath the greenhouse.
Then up a narrow staircase.
Cold night air struck my face.
We emerged behind a row of hedges near the river road.
A black SUV waited.
The driver opened the rear door.
Sofia pushed me forward.
Then stopped.
The driver looked at her.
She looked at him.
Something passed between them.
“Sofia?”
She didn’t move.
The driver reached inside his jacket.
I stepped backward.
Then a voice came from behind us.
“Don’t.”
The driver froze.
I turned.
Matteo emerged from the darkness.
His shirt was bloody.
His gun was raised.
The driver slowly lifted his hands.
Matteo opened the front door, dragged him out, and slammed him against the vehicle.
“Who sent you?”
The man said nothing.
Matteo searched him.
Then went still.
He pulled something from the driver’s pocket.
A phone.
On its screen was the black crown.
Sofia whispered, “Oh God.”
Matteo struck the driver once and shoved him to the ground.
“We need another vehicle.”
“What about Alessandro?”
I asked.
Matteo looked toward the mansion.
Fire glowed behind two west-wing windows.
My heart stopped.
“Where is he?”
Matteo didn’t answer quickly enough.
“Where is Alessandro?”
“He was still inside when the west corridor went down.”
I handed Emma to Sofia.
“Take her.”
Sofia stared at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Going back.”
“That building is under attack.”
“He’s in a wheelchair.”
“Elena—”
“He can’t get out by himself!”
Emma started screaming.
“Mommy!”
I kissed her forehead.
“I’m coming back.”
“No!”
Her little hands grabbed my shirt.
Then another explosion shook the estate.
Glass shattered somewhere in the darkness.
Matteo caught my shoulder.
“You cannot go back.”
“I’m not leaving him.”
His expression changed.
Maybe he recognized something in my voice.
Or maybe he knew arguing was useless.
He handed Sofia his spare gun.
“Stay here.”
Then he looked at me.
“Stay behind me.”
We ran toward the mansion.
Smoke rolled from the west wing.
Security men moved across the lawn.
Sirens screamed in the distance.
Inside, sprinklers had turned marble floors into mirrors.
We climbed the servants’ staircase.
My lungs burned.
“Alessandro!”
No answer.
We reached the office corridor.
Two men lay unconscious near the wall.
The oak door had been blown inward.
I rushed inside.
The room was empty.
His wheelchair was overturned.
Mr.
Rabbit lay beside it.
I picked it up.
Something dark stained one ear.
Blood.
“No.”
Matteo searched the room.
“Boss!”
Nothing.
Then we heard a sound.
A dull knock.
From behind the desk.
I rushed around it.
Alessandro was on the floor.
Alive.
Blood ran from his temple.
One hand gripped the edge of his desk.
“Alessandro!”
His eyes opened.
“Elena?”
I dropped beside him.
“You’re hurt.”
“I noticed.”
Matteo came forward.
“We need to move you.”
Alessandro shook his head.
“No chair.”
“We’ll carry you.”
Then Alessandro did something neither of us expected.
He planted both hands against the desk.
His face tightened with pain.
His right foot moved.
Only an inch.
But it moved.
Matteo stared.
Alessandro gritted his teeth.
His knee bent.
For two years, the man had been told his legs were useless.
For two years, he had believed it.
Now, with the mansion burning around him, Alessandro Moretti dragged one foot beneath his body.
He tried to rise.
He collapsed immediately.
I caught his shoulder.
“Stop.”
“No.”
“You’re going to hurt yourself.”
He looked at me.
“They already did.”
Then his eyes fell on the photograph still clutched in my hand.
Everything changed.
The fire.
The gunshots.
Gabriel.
For one second none of it mattered.
Alessandro stared at the picture of himself beside my mother.
His face went completely blank.
“Where did you get that?”
“Gabriel.”
His eyes snapped to mine.
“He said you knew who I was before I came here.”
Alessandro said nothing.
“Is that true?”
“Elena—”
“Is it true?”
The silence answered for him.
My chest tightened.
“You hired me deliberately.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Another explosion shook the windows.
Matteo shouted, “We need to leave!”
But I couldn’t move.
“Why me?”
Alessandro looked at Emma’s rabbit in my hand.
Then at the photograph.
When he spoke, his voice was almost lost beneath the alarms.
“Because your father was driving the car the night I was supposed to die.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He wasn’t killed in an accident.”
The room seemed to disappear around me.
Alessandro continued.
“He was murdered.”
My knees weakened.
“And your mother,” he said, “spent the next twenty-five years hiding the reason.”
I could barely form the words.
“What reason?”
Alessandro looked toward the burning doorway.
Then back at me.
“Because the man who ordered your father’s death was mine.”
My breath stopped.
Outside, someone shouted that the attackers were retreating.
But Alessandro wasn’t finished.
“And Gabriel didn’t come here tonight to kill me.”
I stared at him.
“What did he come for?”
Alessandro’s steel-gray eyes moved toward the corridor through which Sofia had escaped with my daughter.
His face suddenly filled with horror.
“Emma.”
My heart stopped.
“What about Emma?”
Alessandro grabbed my wrist.
“He came for Emma.”
I tore free and ran.
By the time we reached the greenhouse exit, the black SUV was gone.
Sofia was gone.
Emma was gone.
Only one thing remained on the wet pavement.
A small butter cookie.
Broken exactly in half.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One photograph.
Emma sat in the back seat of a car, unharmed, clutching Mr.
Rabbit’s missing blue ribbon in her fist.
Beside her sat Sofia.
And behind them, smiling directly into the camera, was Gabriel Moretti.
Under the photograph was a message.
ASK ALESSANDRO WHO EMMA’S GRANDFATHER REALLY IS.
My hands began to shake.
Behind me, Alessandro stared at the screen.
And for the first time since I had met the most feared man in Chicago, Alessandro Moretti looked terrified.
Not for himself.
For my daughter.
Because whatever secret had begun twenty-five years earlier had not ended with my father’s death.
It had passed to me.
And now it had reached Emma.
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Source: Stories of Destiny · Thao Thao
