Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be DeadLorenzo had spent twenty years believing his father was a monster.
He had never imagined that the man might also have been protecting a secret involving Elena's mother.
“Show me the photograph,” he said.
Elena hesitated.
Then she rose carefully and led him upstairs.
The envelope was exactly where she had hidden it, beneath the mattress near the headboard.
Inside was a faded photograph of three people standing outside a mountain lodge.
One was a younger version of Lorenzo's father, Salvatore Moretti.
Beside him stood a blonde woman Elena recognized from the only childhood picture she still owned.
Her mother.
Rachel Vance.
The third person was partially hidden behind a car door.
Lorenzo turned the photograph over.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
He read the message twice.
Then he looked at Elena.
“How old were you when your mother died?”
“Six.”
“What were you told?”
“That she died in a car accident.”
“Did you see her body?”
“No.”
“Who identified her?”
“My father.”
Lorenzo lowered the photograph.
“Then we need to find out whether that identification was genuine.”
Elena felt suddenly cold.
“You think she might be alive?”
“I think someone wants you to question everything you know.”
She sat on the edge of the bed.
For seventeen years, Elena had lived with the memory of her mother's funeral.
A closed casket.
A cheap church.
Her father standing in the back, smelling of whiskey.
She remembered asking why she couldn't see her mother's face.
He had slapped her.
Then told her never to ask again.
“What happens now?” she whispered.
Lorenzo slipped the photograph into its envelope.
“Now we find out who delivered this.”
He summoned Dante.
The head of security arrived within minutes.
Lorenzo placed the tablet on the table.
“Identify the person in the medical coat.”
Dante studied the footage.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Dr. Aris was the only physician scheduled overnight.”
“Then question him.”
Dante's jaw tightened.
“Enzo, we've known Aris for fifteen years.”
“And someone tried to kill me four days ago.”
Dante nodded and left.
Elena watched the door close.
“You suspect everyone.”
“I have to.”
“Even him?”
Lorenzo looked toward the hallway.
“Especially people I trust.”
That afternoon, Dr. Aris was brought into the library.
He appeared genuinely confused when Lorenzo showed him the footage.
“I wasn't in that wing at two in the morning.”
“Then who was?”
“I don't know.”
“Someone had access to your medical coat.”
Aris frowned.
“My assistant, perhaps.”
“Name?”
“Julian Cross.”
Dante immediately checked the staff records.
Julian Cross had joined the estate's temporary medical team two days earlier.
His credentials appeared legitimate.
His address did not.
The Manhattan apartment listed on his application had been vacant for eight months.
By the time Dante sent men to the guesthouse where Julian was staying, the assistant had disappeared.
His room contained a stripped bed, a disconnected burner phone, and a single train ticket to Philadelphia.
Lorenzo ordered the estate locked down.
Elena protested.
“Someone could have helped him leave.”
“Exactly.”
“Then keeping everyone inside won't solve anything.”
“It will stop them from disappearing.”
She met his eyes.
“Unless they're already gone.”
Lorenzo had no answer.
That evening, he brought Elena into his private study.
The room contained old photographs, financial records, and several locked cabinets.
He opened one.
Inside were documents belonging to his father.
“I haven't looked at these in years,” he admitted.
“Why?”
“Because I hated him.”
Elena waited.
Lorenzo took out a photograph showing Salvatore with his two sons.
Lorenzo appeared to be in his twenties.
Beside him stood Matteo, smiling broadly.
“My father built an empire through fear. My brother wanted to change it. I thought Matteo was naive.”
“What happened?”
“He discovered money disappearing from one of our companies. He believed someone inside the family was laundering funds through a security contractor.”
“Black Crown?”
Lorenzo looked at her sharply.
“Yes.”
Elena's heart began pounding.
“Did he tell you who was responsible?”
“No. He said he needed proof.”
“And then?”
“Three days later, he died.”
The room fell silent.
Lorenzo opened another folder.
Inside was a handwritten letter from Matteo.
It had never been mailed.
Lorenzo read it aloud.
“Enzo, if something happens to me, don't trust the story they'll tell you. The money isn't the real secret. The real secret is what happened in Nevada.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Nevada.
Her childhood.
Her father.
Her mother.
Everything was connected.
“Why didn't you investigate?” she asked.
“I did. The warehouse fire destroyed nearly everything. My father died six months later. The men who worked for Black Crown disappeared.”
He looked down at the letter.
“I convinced myself Matteo had made a mistake.”
Elena reached across the desk.
“You were grieving.”
Lorenzo stared at her hand.
Then slowly placed his own beside it.
Before either could speak, his phone rang.
Dante.
“We found Julian Cross.”
“Where?”
“In a parking garage in Philadelphia.”
“Bring him back.”
A pause.
“Boss, he's dead.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
“How?”
“Single gunshot. But that's not the worst part.”
“What is?”
Dante's voice dropped.
“He had a photograph in his pocket.”
“Of whom?”
“You and Elena.”
Lorenzo felt his stomach tighten.
Dante continued.
“It was taken yesterday. Inside your bedroom hallway.”
Someone was still watching them.
Then Dante added one final detail.
“There's a message written across it.”
May you like
Lorenzo waited.
“Tell the girl her father is coming.”
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