Chapter 3 - Four Children Had Been Erased—And My Name Was Hidden in Their Father's Files
The four children were scattered across the country.
That was the first thing we learned.
The second was worse.
They weren't random children.
They were the children of four men who had once controlled the DeLuca network.
And every one of those men had vanished within the same twelve-month period.
Roman called them the Four Heirs.
Nico was one.
A girl in Connecticut was another.
A boy in Pennsylvania.
And the fourth was missing.
I asked Roman why my father's message had connected me to them.
He didn't know.
Or he wasn't telling me.
That morning, my mother called.
“Loretta.”
Her voice was weak.
“Where are you?”
“Out.”
“With who?”
I hesitated.
“Roman DeLuca.”
Silence.
Then my mother whispered:
“Come home.”
“Why?”
“Because your father wasn't who you think he was.”
I closed my eyes.
“Tell me.”
“Not over the phone.”
The line went dead.
I drove straight home.
My mother was sitting in her favorite chair.
Pale.
Tired.
But alert.
I placed the photo of Gabriel on the table.
She looked at it and started crying.
“You found him.”
“No.”
I stared.
“But you know where he is.”
My mother looked away.
“He's dead.”
“You said that before.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
She swallowed.
“Because I loved him.”
That wasn't enough.
I demanded the truth.
She finally told me.
My father had been a federal investigator.
He had infiltrated the DeLuca organization.
He fell in love with my mother.
Then she discovered the truth.
Instead of turning him in, she joined him.
They intended to expose the entire organization.
But someone betrayed them.
That person was my mother's brother.
Vincent.
He had been working with an even larger criminal group.
The group wanted the Four Heirs.
They believed whoever controlled the children could eventually control the empire.
“What about Nico?”
My mother looked down.
“His mother tried to protect him.”
“Clara?”
“Yes.”
“And the fire?”
“She didn't start it.”
My blood ran cold.
“Then who did?”
My mother whispered:
“Vincent.”
My mother's brother was alive.
And he had been hunting the children for twenty years.
Before I could ask another question, glass shattered.
A bullet hit the wall.
My mother screamed.
Roman's men stormed into the apartment.
More shots.
Someone outside was trying to kill us.
Roman pulled my mother behind the couch.
“Stay down.”
I crouched beside her.
“Who are they?”
“Vincent's men.”
“Your uncle?”
“Yes.”
Another bullet tore through the window.
Roman returned fire.
Minutes later, the attackers disappeared.
One man had been captured.
Roman pulled him inside.
The man smiled through blood.
“You're too late.”
Roman grabbed his collar.
“Where is Vincent?”
The man laughed.
“Closer than you think.”
Then he looked at me.
“He's been watching you your whole life.”
A chill ran through me.
My father hadn't been the only one watching.
Someone had been waiting for me.
The captive swallowed.
“Your mother knows where the fourth child is.”
My mother closed her eyes.
I looked at her.
“Where?”
She whispered:
“With your father.”
I stared.
“You said he was dead.”
“He is.”
“Then how could the child be with him?”
My mother looked at me.
“Because your father had a son.”
I stopped breathing.
“A son?”
She nodded.
“Before you.”
The truth crushed down on me.
My father had another child.
The missing fourth heir.
And nobody knew where he was.
Except my mother.
And Vincent.
Roman stepped closer.
“Where is he?”
My mother shook her head.
“I don't know.”
The captive smiled.
“Neither does she.”
He looked at me.
“But you do.”
I frowned.
“What?”
He laughed.
“Because the child was hidden inside your life.”
Then he died before explaining.
That night, I searched my childhood belongings.
Photographs.
Letters.
Birthday cards.
Old school notebooks.
Nothing.
Then I found a wooden box.
My father had given it to me when I was seven.
I had never opened the false bottom.
Inside was a photograph.
A baby.
And a name.
Elias Marino.
My brother.
On the back was another message.
He will need you when the time comes.
Roman stood behind me.
I turned.
“I have a brother.”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
May you like
Roman looked at the photograph.
“I think I know.”
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