Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
By noon, the Moretti estate had become a fortress.
Three additional vehicles arrived.
Men checked every gate.
Cameras were repositioned.
Isabelle watched from the upstairs window.
She had never seen anything like it.
Vincent had transformed the estate within hours.
He was no longer simply protecting her.
He was preparing for war.
At lunch, Dominic entered the dining room.
"Boss."
Vincent looked up.
"What did you find?"
"Daniel Stanton existed."
Isabelle stopped eating.
Dominic placed a folder on the table.
"Born in Detroit. Changed his name twice. Worked for a private logistics company."
Vincent opened the file.
"Anything criminal?"
"Nothing official."
"And unofficial?"
Dominic hesitated.
"He worked with the Falcone organization."
Isabelle's fork slipped from her fingers.
"No."
Dominic continued.
"He wasn't a soldier. More like an accountant."
Vincent turned a page.
Then stopped.
"What?"
Dominic pointed.
"Daniel handled offshore transfers."
Isabelle stared at the documents.
"That can't be true."
Vincent looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because he hated criminals."
Dominic gave a bitter smile.
"That's what he wanted you to believe."
Isabelle's hands began shaking.
"I loved him."
Vincent didn't respond.
"And you think he was using me?"
"I think you don't know."
She stood abruptly.
"I need air."
Vincent followed.
They reached the terrace.
Isabelle leaned against the railing.
"I don't understand."
Vincent stood beside her.
"You don't have to understand everything today."
She laughed bitterly.
"Easy for you to say."
"No."
His voice was quiet.
"It's not."
She looked at him.
"What happened to your wife?"
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"She knew what I was."
"Did she hate you?"
"No."
"Did she regret loving you?"
He looked away.
"She regretted trusting someone who wanted me dead."
Isabelle felt a strange ache in her chest.
Before she could answer, a black sedan entered the driveway.
Dominic appeared behind them.
"Boss."
Vincent turned.
"What?"
"There's a woman."
"Who?"
"She says she knows Isabelle."
A woman stepped from the car.
She was elegant.
Blonde.
Perfectly dressed.
She walked toward the house with the confidence of someone who had been there before.
Isabelle's blood froze.
"That's Daniel's sister."
Vincent looked at her.
"Daniel had a sister?"
"Yes."
The woman reached the terrace.
Her name was Elena Stanton.
She smiled at Isabelle.
"I'm sorry we meet like this."
Isabelle stared.
"You disappeared after Daniel's funeral."
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
Elena looked at Vincent.
"Of him."
Vincent's expression remained unreadable.
Elena lowered her voice.
"Daniel wasn't the man you thought he was."
"I know."
"No."
Elena shook her head.
"You don't."
She reached into her purse and pulled out a photograph.
She handed it to Isabelle.
It showed Daniel standing beside a younger Vincent.
Isabelle stared.
"That's impossible."
Vincent looked at the photograph.
His face changed.
"When was this taken?"
"Six years ago."
Isabelle looked between them.
"You knew Daniel?"
Vincent didn't answer immediately.
Finally:
"Yes."
Her stomach dropped.
"How?"
"Business."
"What kind?"
"Dirty."
Isabelle took a step back.
"Did you know he was the father of my baby?"
"No."
"You're lying."
Vincent stepped toward her.
"I didn't know you existed."
"Then why does your enemy know about my child?"
Vincent's expression hardened.
"Because someone inside my organization has been watching you."
Elena interrupted.
"Not someone."
She looked directly at Vincent.
"Your brother."
Silence.
Vincent's face became terrifyingly still.
"I don't have a brother."
Elena smiled sadly.
"That's what they wanted you to believe."
Then she pulled another photograph from her purse.
A newborn baby.
A hospital bracelet.
And a name.
MICHAEL MORETTI.
Vincent stared.
He hadn't heard that name in twenty years.
His dead mother's firstborn.
The child his father had told him had died shortly after birth.
May you like
Elena whispered:
"Your brother is alive."
