Chapter 8 - THE FATHER WHO NEVER DIED
Dominic had imagined confronting his father a thousand times.
In some versions, he demanded answers. In others, he raised a weapon. Sometimes he simply watched the older man struggle to explain why he had abandoned his sons.
But he had never imagined standing in a ruined conservatory while his supposedly dead father smiled as if nothing had happened.
“Hello, Dominic,” Giovanni said through the glass.
Adrian's hand tightened around his gun.
“You let us bury you.”
Giovanni tilted his head.
“I allowed you to believe what was necessary.”
“Necessary for whom?” Dominic demanded.
“For the family.”
Dominic laughed bitterly.
“You used the family as an excuse to control everyone in it.”
Giovanni's smile faded.
“Open the door.”
“No.”
Marcus raised his weapon.
“Don't make this difficult.”
Dominic looked at him.
“You worked for me.”
“I worked for the man who understood how power actually functions.”
“Then you chose poorly.”
Marcus aimed through the glass.
Before he could fire, Clara grabbed the conservatory's emergency lever. A row of old shutters dropped between the glass panels, blocking the line of sight.
Dominic pulled Adrian toward the side exit.
They escaped through a narrow service passage, carrying the ledger and the cassette recorder.
Outside, two vehicles waited near the rose garden.
Adrian fired into the ground beside the nearest tire, forcing the guards to retreat long enough for everyone to reach the car.
They drove until the estate disappeared behind them.
Only then did Dominic speak.
“Why did you fake your death?”
Adrian answered first.
“Because he wanted control of the trust. I discovered the first transfer when I was twenty-four. He told me the accounts were legitimate. When I refused to sign the paperwork, I was attacked.”
Giovanni's voice from the conservatory still echoed in Dominic's head.
“What about the accident?”
“They used another man's body. I was told you knew I was alive, but I never believed it.”
Dominic stared at him.
“I mourned you.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe I had lost my brother.”
Adrian lowered his eyes.
“I thought staying away was the only way to keep you alive.”
Clara sat quietly beside Eleanor, studying the ledger.
“Your father knew about the twins,” she said. “He must have known that the trust could only be challenged by one of his daughters.”
“Which means he needed us alive,” Dominic replied.
“Or he needed one of us to appear alive while the other remained hidden.”
The thought silenced everyone.
At the safe house, Samuel Whitmore arrived with copies of the original trust documents. He confirmed that the account had been established by their mother and contained a clause allowing either daughter to expose financial misconduct.
But the original authorization page was missing.
“Without it,” Whitmore explained, “we can establish the existence of the trust, but not who currently controls it.”
Clara placed the ledger on the table.
“Arthur said my mother left the authority to expose the network. He knew about the missing page.”
Whitmore nodded.
“Then someone has the original.”
Dominic looked at the ledger's final entry.
“The third ledger.”
Adrian opened the old cassette case.
A folded note had been tucked beneath the tape.
It contained an address in Boston and a single sentence.
THE THIRD LEDGER IS WITH THE DAUGHTER WHO NEVER LEFT HOME.
Clara looked up.
“Catherine?”
“Maybe,” Adrian said.
Eleanor shook her head.
“Catherine was raised in Ohio. She never lived at the estate.”
“Then who?”
No one had an answer.
Dominic's phone rang.
An unknown number.
He answered.
A man's voice spoke calmly.
“Your father wants a meeting.”
“Tell him to come himself.”
“He already has.”
The caller sent a photograph.
It showed Giovanni seated at a restaurant table, with Marcus beside him. Between them sat a young woman whose face was hidden by a glass of water.
A silver ring rested on her hand.
The same ring Clara had seen in the hotel photograph.
Dominic enlarged the image.
The woman had a small scar beneath her chin.
It was the same woman who had stood beside Vanessa.
Clara went pale.
“That's not Catherine.”
“How do you know?” Dominic asked.
“Because Catherine has a scar on her left cheek. This woman has one beneath her chin.”
Adrian stared at the photograph.
“Then who is she?”
Clara turned over the original family photograph.
The woman standing beside their mother had the same scar.
Eleanor covered her mouth.
“No,” she whispered. “That can't be.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Who is she?”
Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.
“The third daughter.”
The room fell silent.
Clara had believed she had two sisters.
Now there might be three.
May you like
And Giovanni Moretti had found the one nobody knew existed.
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