Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Survived the Fire
Elena's gun was steady.
Mia stared at her.
“You betrayed my father.”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
Marco stepped forward.
“Put it down.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised Elias.”
Mia felt sick.
“Elias Moretti?”
Elena nodded.
“He has my daughter.”
Marco's expression hardened.
“How long?”
“Eight years.”
“You could have come to me.”
“He would have killed her.”
“Maybe.”
Elena laughed bitterly.
“That is the difference between us, Marco. You think everyone has a choice.”
Mia looked at the letter.
“Why was my father protecting you?”
“Because he knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That Victor Callaway had already been betrayed by someone in his own household.”
Mia shook her head.
“My father was betrayed?”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
Elena lowered the gun.
“I don't know.”
Marco stared.
“What?”
“I was told there was another person.”
“Who?”
“Your mother.”
Mia's face went blank.
“No.”
Elena shook her head.
“Your father believed your mother was involved in the financial transfers.”
Mia remembered the warnings.
The letters.
The secrets.
The way her mother refused to discuss those years.
“Where is my mother?”
Elena looked at Marco.
“Safe.”
Mia's voice sharpened.
“Where?”
“At a convent outside Bridgeport.”
Mia almost laughed.
“You're telling me my mother disappeared because of all this?”
“She was hiding from Elias.”
“But Elias is dead.”
“No.”
Silence.
Mia stared.
Marco stepped closer.
“Explain.”
Elena looked exhausted.
“He faked the death of three people.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
“Your mother.”
“And himself.”
Marco's eyes hardened.
Elias Moretti had built a network so deep that even death was a tool.
Mia's knees weakened.
“My father?”
Elena nodded.
“Alive.”
Mia looked at Marco.
“Is that why you were watching me?”
“Yes.”
“Because of him?”
“Yes.”
The truth had become too large to hold.
Then footsteps sounded.
Men entered the warehouse.
Marco pulled Mia behind him.
Elena dropped the gun.
A voice came from the doorway.
“Well done.”
Elias Moretti.
Mia froze.
He walked in slowly.
Older than she'd imagined.
Elegant.
Almost gentle.
He looked at her with something resembling affection.
“Your father had your eyes.”
“Where is he?”
Elias smiled.
“Safe.”
“Bring him here.”
“You still make demands.”
“You wanted me.”
“Yes.”
“Then bring him.”
Elias studied her.
“You are stronger than he said.”
Marco moved.
Elias's men raised weapons.
“Marco,” Elias said. “Do not make me kill her.”
Mia stepped forward.
“Why do you need the key?”
Elias's expression changed.
“The key opens an account.”
“What account?”
“The account your father created.”
Marco understood.
“Black ledger account.”
Elias nodded.
“Billions.”
Mia stared.
Her father had hidden more than evidence.
He had hidden money.
Money stolen from the network.
Money intended to destroy it.
“You want the account.”
“I want what was taken from me.”
“You mean what my father took from criminals.”
Elias smiled.
“History belongs to the person who writes it.”
“And you think you can rewrite mine?”
“No.”
He looked at Marco.
“I think he can.”
Marco stepped toward him.
Elias continued.
“Your father left an instruction.”
“What?”
“If anything happened to him, the account would transfer to the one person who could destroy the network.”
Mia looked at Marco.
“Who?”
Elias smiled.
“You.”
Marco frowned.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Mia remembered the letter.
Marco is not the enemy.
The sentence she'd just read.
Elias wanted them to distrust each other.
Because together, they could access the money.
Together, they could dismantle the network.
Elias knew that.
He was manipulating them.
Mia saw it.
“Marco.”
He looked at her.
“Don't listen to him.”
Elias laughed.
“You think love makes you clever?”
Mia stepped forward.
“Love?”
Marco looked at her.
Elias smiled.
“Oh, you haven't told her.”
“There's nothing to tell.”
“Marco was planning to leave the city after this.”
Mia looked at him.
“Is that true?”
Marco hesitated.
“Before I met you.”
The answer was enough.
Elias moved.
A gunshot rang out.
Elena screamed.
The room erupted.
Marco grabbed Mia.
They ran.
They escaped through a tunnel beneath the warehouse and emerged near the river.
Rain began to fall.
Mia stopped.
“You were leaving.”
Marco turned.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After I found you.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn't want this life.”
She stared at him.
“And now?”
He stepped closer.
“Now I don't know.”
Mia's voice trembled.
“I don't either.”
They stood in the rain.
Marco reached up.
Touched her cheek.
“You should hate me.”
“I don't.”
“You should.”
“I tried.”
His forehead rested against hers.
For a moment the world went quiet.
“I don't want you to leave,” she whispered.
His hand tightened at her waist.
“Neither do I.”
He kissed her.
Not gently.
Not carelessly.
Like a man who had spent too long pretending he could live without something and had finally surrendered.
Mia held his jacket.
When they broke apart, both were breathing hard.
“You are still a terrible employer,” she whispered.
He smiled.
“And you're still a terrible secretary.”
She laughed.
Then his phone rang.
Marco answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
A pause.
Then:
“They have her.”
Mia's blood ran cold.
May you like
“Who?”
“My mother.”
