Chapter 3 - THE SCAR ON THE GUARD
Adrian stumbled back, the silver bracelet slipping from his fingers and clattering against the china plates.
“My sister survived?” Adrian’s voice broke. He looked at Lily, his eyes searching her face. The high cheekbones. The dark, piercing eyes. The resemblance was undeniable. “You... you’re my niece?”
Lily shook her head frantically, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No. My mother’s name was Clara. We lived in a small apartment in Queens. She worked at a bakery. She died of pneumonia three years ago.”
“Clara was the name she chose to hide,” I said gently. “Dominic ordered me to take her away because someone inside this family was trying to kill her.”
Vanessa’s face turned scarlet. “This is a conspiracy! He’s a disgruntled employee trying to install a fake heir to steal your fortune, Adrian! Have him arrested!”
Vanessa signaled to the two armed security guards standing by the double doors. “Remove him. Now.”
The guards hesitated, looking at Adrian. But Adrian was too stunned to speak.
Before the guards could move, Sophia Moretti—Adrian’s aunt—stepped out from behind her chair. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with a sudden, fierce clarity.
“Frank is telling the truth,” Sophia said, her voice echoing in the silent room.
Vanessa whipped around. “Sophia, stay out of this.”
“I will not,” the elderly woman retorted. She walked over to the table and picked up the original security duty log Vanessa had used to accuse me.
“You said Frank abandoned his post, and Michael Russo was injured protecting my brother,” Sophia said, turning the pages of the ledger. “But that’s a lie, Vanessa.”
Sophia looked at Adrian. “Michael Russo wasn't injured protecting your father. Michael was the one who forced his way onto the property.”
Adrian’s head snapped up. “What? Michael is a loyal soldier. He took a bullet to the leg that night.”
“He took a bullet,” Sophia corrected, her voice trembling, “because Dominic shot him.”
The guests gasped.
I closed my eyes, the memory of that night flashing behind my eyelids. The rain. The blood. Elena’s terrified screams.
“Michael was the assassin,” Sophia revealed, looking directly at Vanessa. “He was hired to kill Elena. And Dominic shot him to give Frank time to get her out.”
Vanessa’s hands gripped the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white. “That’s insane. Michael is my uncle!”
“Yes,” Sophia said coldly. “He is. Which brings us to the real question, Vanessa.”
May you like
Sophia reached into her purse and pulled out a faded photograph.
“If your uncle was hired to kill the Moretti heir eighteen years ago,” Sophia asked, dropping the photo on the table, “why is his signature on the bottom of your prenuptial agreement today?”
