Chapter 8 - The Sister Who Wanted My Life
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
I stared at Sophie.
Her blonde hair, expensive clothes, and cold expression suddenly seemed like a costume.
“You knew?”
She looked away.
“Since I was sixteen.”
“Then why didn't you find me?”
Her eyes flashed.
“Because I didn't want to share anything with you.”
The words struck harder than any slap.
Adrian stepped forward.
“Why did you become my fiancée?”
Sophie laughed bitterly.
“Because your father promised me the Romano fortune.”
“You were going to marry your own cousin?”
“I didn't know the truth at first.”
She lowered her eyes.
“Victor told me I was the daughter of a distant relative. He raised me to believe I was special. When I learned about Isabella, I realized he had lied about everything.”
Adrian's voice was cold.
“And you decided to help him?”
“He gave me everything I ever wanted.”
“What about Grace?”
Sophie turned toward me.
“She got the mother. She got the childhood. She got love.”
Her voice cracked.
“I got a family that treated me like an investment.”
I stared at her.
“You could have contacted me.”
“And risk losing everything?”
She laughed through her tears.
“You don't understand. Victor promised me control of the family if I helped him keep you hidden.”
Adrian's expression darkened.
“So you arranged the attack?”
Sophie shook her head.
“No. Richard did. I only gave him the information about Grace.”
“You knew they would come after her daughter.”
Sophie didn't answer.
That silence was enough.
Adrian turned toward Marco.
“Take her away.”
But before the guards could move, a shot rang out.
The window shattered.
Adrian fell backward.
“ADRIAN!”
I rushed toward him.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
Marco fired toward the garden.
“SNIPER!”
The guards dragged us behind the heavy furniture.
Sophie screamed.
The attacker had escaped into the darkness.
Adrian's breathing became shallow.
I pressed a cloth against his wound.
“Stay with me.”
He looked at me.
“Grace…”
“Don't talk.”
His fingers closed around mine.
“I need you to know something.”
I shook my head.
“Not now.”
But he continued.
“I thought I had nothing left to live for.”
His gray eyes filled with tears.
“Then your daughter walked into my room.”
I pressed my forehead against his hand.
“Please don't leave us.”
For the first time, Adrian smiled.
“I'm not planning to.”
The doctor arrived and stabilized him.
The bullet had passed through his shoulder without damaging anything vital.
But the sniper had left something behind.
A folded note.
Marco brought it to me.
It contained only one sentence.
THE WOMAN YOU CALL MOTHER IS STILL ALIVE.
I stopped breathing.
My mother had been dead for seven years.
I had buried her.
I had cried over her grave.
But beneath the message was an address.
And a recent photograph.
May you like
A woman with silver hair stood outside a small house.
She had my mother's face.
