Chapter 3 - The Father Who Never DiedThe farmhouse stood at the end of a narrow road bordered by bare trees and winter-brown fields.
Lorenzo's security team arrived first. Two men checked the perimeter while a third approached the front door.
Ethan opened it.
He looked exhausted. His dark hair was uncombed, and a bruise marked his cheekbone.
When he saw me, he stopped.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “Anna.”
Hearing my birth name in my twin brother's voice felt stranger than the scar, the plate, or the photograph.
“Emma,” I corrected automatically.
Ethan nodded.
“Emma, then.”
He stepped aside.
“I don't expect you to call me your brother yet.”
“Good,” I said, my voice shaking. “Because I don't know how to do that.”
A faint smile crossed his face.
“Neither do I.”
Inside, the farmhouse smelled of coffee and woodsmoke. An elderly man sat near the window, wrapped in a dark sweater. His face was thinner than in the photograph, but the scar across his jaw was unmistakable.
Gabriel Vitale looked up.
His eyes found Lorenzo first.
Neither brother moved.
Twenty-three years of grief, anger, and unanswered questions stood between them.
Finally, Gabriel spoke.
“You got tall.”
Lorenzo's expression broke.
“That's what you have to say?”
Gabriel's mouth trembled.
“I've rehearsed this moment a thousand times. Every version sounded better in my head.”
Lorenzo crossed the room.
For a second, I thought he might strike him.
Instead, he grabbed his brother's shoulders and pulled him into an embrace so fierce that Gabriel gasped.
“You were dead,” Lorenzo whispered.
“I know.”
“I buried you.”
“I know.”
“I stood beside an empty coffin while Dad told me you were gone.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“I am sorry.”
Lorenzo stepped back, wiping his face angrily.
“Tell me everything.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“And you must be Anna.”
“Emma.”
He accepted the correction without protest.
“Your grandmother called you her little sparrow.”
My throat tightened.
“She still does.”
Gabriel lowered his head.
“Then she remembered more than I thought.”
He explained that after leaving the family in 2003, he had secretly married Marianne Bell. He had intended to build a life outside the Vitale organization, but he discovered that his father had been using legitimate businesses to conceal criminal payments.
Gabriel copied financial records and planned to turn them over to federal investigators.
Before he could do so, Victor learned about the documents.
The boating accident had been staged to make Gabriel disappear. He survived, but his injuries were severe enough that he spent months under medical supervision. Victor controlled his treatment and threatened to harm Marianne if Gabriel tried to contact the police.
“Why didn't you come to us?” Lorenzo demanded.
“I tried.”
Gabriel's voice cracked.
“Every time I found a way to reach your mother, someone intercepted the message. When I finally escaped the clinic, I went to the house. Your father told me Rose and the children had died in the crash.”
I stared at him.
“But Grandma survived.”
“I learned that later. By then, Victor had convinced everyone that I was dead. I was a ghost with no money, no identity, and no safe way to approach my family.”
Ethan sat down across from him.
“What about us?”
Gabriel looked at his son.
“You and Anna were born a few months before the crash. Marianne and I planned to leave Chicago with you. We believed we had a few weeks to disappear.”
“But someone knew,” Ethan said.
“Yes.”
Gabriel's eyes moved toward Lorenzo.
“Your father arranged the accident after he discovered that I had hidden copies of the financial records. He wanted the children separated, Rose silenced, and me out of reach.”
“Who drove the car?” Lorenzo asked.
Gabriel looked toward the fire.
“I don't know who caused the collision. I remember a truck swerving into our lane. I remember Rose screaming. I remember reaching for Anna.”
His voice faltered.
“Then I remember your father standing beside the ambulance.”
Lorenzo went still.
“He was there?”
Gabriel nodded.
“He told the paramedics I was dangerous. He said I had attacked Rose and kidnapped the child. By the time I could speak clearly, I was in a private hospital under another name.”
I felt sick.
Rose had spent eighteen years wondering what had happened to the child she heard crying. Gabriel had spent those same years believing his family was dead or beyond his reach.
And Victor had made both stories believable.
“What happened to Marianne?” I asked.
Gabriel's eyes filled.
“She disappeared two days before the accident. Victor told me she had abandoned us. I never believed him, but I couldn't find her.”
“Is she dead?” Ethan asked.
“I don't know.”
The room fell silent.
Lorenzo pulled the brass key from his pocket.
“Isabella gave me this. She said you left it with her.”
Gabriel stared at it.
For the first time since we arrived, fear replaced the grief in his expression.
“Where did you get that?”
“From my aunt.”
Gabriel stood too quickly and had to steady himself against the table.
“Did she tell you what was in the box?”
“No.”
“Then we need to go to Geneva.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“Why?”
Gabriel looked at both his children.
“Because I didn't hide the records there.”
He paused.
“I hid something much more important.”
“What?” Ethan asked.
Gabriel's voice dropped.
“Proof that Marianne was alive after the accident.”
My heart hammered.
“You mean she survived?”
“I mean someone paid for her treatment under a false name. The payments continued for years.”
Lorenzo took out his phone.
“Who paid?”
Gabriel looked directly at him.
“Edward Foster.”
Ethan went pale.
“My adoptive father?”
“Yes.”
“But he told me my parents were dead.”
Gabriel reached for his son's hand.
“Edward told everyone what Victor wanted them to believe.”
Ethan pulled away.
“Don't touch me.”
Gabriel flinched.
“You have every right to hate me.”
“I don't hate you,” Ethan said, his voice breaking. “I hate that I spent my entire life believing nobody wanted me.”
Gabriel bowed his head.
“I wanted you every day.”
For a moment, the farmhouse was silent except for the fire.
Then a sound came from outside.
Three sharp knocks against the front door.
Lorenzo's security man called from the hallway.
“Mr. Vitale, we've got a problem.”
Lorenzo moved toward the entrance.
“What kind?”
The guard held up a small envelope.
“It was left on the windshield of our lead vehicle.”
Lorenzo opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Marianne, taken recently.
May you like
On the back, someone had written six words.
STOP SEARCHING OR SHE DIES TONIGHT.
Related Stories
