Chapter 4 - My Dead Mother Was Alive—and the Mafia Family Had Been Hiding the Truth for Twenty-Three Years
I didn't sleep.
I couldn't.
At sunrise, Octavio took me into the private study where three of his most trusted men had gathered.
Documents covered the table.
Old photographs.
Birth records.
Hospital papers.
Court filings.
And one photograph that made my stomach twist.
My mother.
Standing beside Octavio's father.
Holding a baby.
Me.
I stared.
“No.”
Octavio said nothing.
I lifted another photograph.
My mother was pregnant.
Standing outside the Ki mansion.
I remembered nothing.
Of course I remembered nothing.
I had been an infant.
But the sight of the mansion behind her made something inside me ache.
“Why would my mother be here?”
Octavio's right-hand man, Matteo, answered carefully.
“Because she was part of the family.”
I looked at him.
“That doesn't answer anything.”
“She was your father's sister.”
I dropped the photograph.
“No.”
Octavio closed his eyes.
“My aunt.”
“Your mother was my father's sister.”
I couldn't breathe.
“The woman who raised me?”
“Wasn't your biological mother.”
The room tilted.
I grabbed the table.
Octavio moved toward me.
“Don't touch me.”
He stopped.
I forced myself upright.
“My whole life is a lie.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“You knew.”
“I didn't.”
“You've been investigating.”
“Since last night.”
“Then why did you look at me like that?”
His face tightened.
“Because the resemblance was there. I just didn't understand it.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I haven't lied to you since I met you.”
I stared at him.
He held my gaze.
“I may have withheld things. I may have protected information. But I haven't lied to you.”
I looked back at the documents.
A sealed birth certificate.
Mother: Isabella Ki.
Father: Unknown.
Child: Female.
Date of birth: March 18.
That was my birthday.
My fingers trembled.
“Why does it say father unknown?”
Octavio's expression changed.
“We're trying to determine that.”
“And my mother's death?”
“Fake.”
“Who did it?”
“That's what we don't know.”
Matteo entered the room.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found the clinic.”
Octavio turned.
“Where?”
“Indiana.”
“Who owns it?”
Matteo hesitated.
“Someone using a shell company.”
“Name.”
“Rafael Moretti.”
The room went silent.
Octavio looked at me.
“So he knew.”
I couldn't stop the fear rising inside me.
“What does he want?”
“We don't know.”
“But he knows who I am.”
“Yes.”
“And he's alive.”
“Yes.”
Octavio came closer.
“We are going to find your mother.”
I stared at him.
“You sound certain.”
“I don't make promises lightly.”
“Then don't promise.”
His eyes locked with mine.
“I'll find her.”
It was the first time I believed a promise simply because of the man saying it.
The next 24 hours became chaos.
Octavio's enemies attacked another warehouse.
Two men were arrested.
A police officer with ties to the Moretti organization vanished.
And Valentina returned from Vegas.
With Axel.
And a wedding ring.
She threw herself into my arms the moment she arrived.
“You look terrible.”
“You got married.”
“Yes.”
“To a man with 17 piercings.”
“Yes.”
“Your brother almost started a war.”
“I know.”
She grinned.
“He deserves it.”
Octavio walked in.
Valentina looked at him.
He looked at her.
Silence.
Then he held out the velvet box.
“You forgot this.”
She opened it.
Her face changed.
“Mom’s necklace.”
He nodded.
She hugged him.
He hesitated before wrapping his arms around her.
For a moment, they looked like a normal family.
Then Valentina looked at me.
“What happened?”
I didn't know how to answer.
Octavio did.
“Your family has another secret.”
She frowned.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Nomi may be family.”
Valentina stared.
“What?”
She turned to me.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
She looked at Octavio.
“Explain.”
He handed her the photograph.
Valentina covered her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
She stepped toward me.
“Our mother.”
I nodded.
“But that's impossible.”
“Apparently we’ve built our lives around several impossible things.”
She hugged me.
I cried.
Not because I knew the truth.
Because I finally had someone who understood what it felt like to discover the ground beneath your childhood had never existed.
That night, Octavio found me on the balcony.
The city glowed below.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
“You didn't do it.”
“I belong to the family that did.”
I turned.
“You're not your father.”
“No.”
“You're not your grandfather.”
“No.”
“You're not Rafael Moretti.”
His jaw tightened at the name.
“No.”
“Then stop apologizing for men who are dead or gone.”
He smiled faintly.
“You make that sound simple.”
“It isn't.”
He stepped closer.
“What happens now?”
“I don't know.”
“You can leave.”
I looked at him.
“Do you want me to?”
His expression froze.
“No.”
“Why?”
He took a slow breath.
“Because I spent 3 years thinking you were invisible.”
He moved closer.
“And now that I see you, I don't know how to stop.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“Octavio.”
He touched my cheek.
“Tell me to step away.”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
His forehead touched mine.
“That's what I thought.”
The moment broke when the security alarm sounded.
Then a single message hit his phone.
A location.
An address.
A photograph.
My mother standing beside a window.
Alive.
Underneath it was one sentence:
COME ALONE, OCTAVIO, OR SHE DIES.
And suddenly I realized something much worse.
May you like
This wasn't about the Ki family.
It was about me.
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