Chapter 4 - The Heir Was Never Supposed to Know the Truth
We hid in a safehouse on the South Side.
Damian locked every door himself.
I sat at a kitchen table staring at the documents.
Daniel.
Adrian Cross.
Eleanor Falcone.
My mother.
None of it fit together.
“What happened to your brother?”
Damian stood at the window.
“I was told Daniel died before I was born.”
“But that's you.”
“Exactly.”
He turned.
“My father changed my identity.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel was Adrian Cross's son.”
I stared at him.
“So your father stole his own enemy's child?”
“He stole his wife's child.”
My stomach turned.
“Your father isn't your biological father.”
“No.”
“You knew?”
“Not until tonight.”
“And Victor?”
“He raised me as Damian Falcone so no one would know.”
I sat back.
“Then why did my mother hide me?”
Damian walked toward the table.
“Because she knew the truth.”
“Which was?”
“That Victor didn't just steal my identity.”
He placed another paper down.
“He killed Adrian Cross.”
The room became silent.
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
The same year my mother disappeared.
Damian sat across from me.
“My mother discovered Victor planned to kill Adrian. She tried to stop him.”
“And my mother?”
“She helped her.”
“Why?”
“They were friends.”
“Just friends?”
He hesitated.
I noticed.
“You're hiding something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“My mother believed Adrian was going to take me.”
“Why?”
“Because I was his son.”
I looked down at the documents.
Everything pointed to one horrifying conclusion.
My mother had tried to save Damian.
And Victor had destroyed everything to stop her.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Lena.”
My blood froze.
The voice belonged to an older woman.
“Who is this?”
“Someone your mother trusted.”
“Where are you?”
“Not far from you.”
“What do you want?”
“To warn you.”
“About what?”
“Damian.”
I looked across the room.
He was watching me.
“What about him?”
“He isn't the only person Victor lied to.”
The call ended.
Damian stood.
“Who was that?”
“I don't know.”
He stared at my phone.
“Show me.”
I handed it over.
He checked the number.
His face changed.
“That number doesn't exist.”
“What?”
“It belongs to a dead woman.”
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“My mother.”
We barely had time to react.
The lights went out.
Damian moved instantly.
“Stay behind me.”
A window shattered.
Someone fired.
Damian returned fire.
A car engine roared outside.
Then silence.
He grabbed my hand.
“We're leaving.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere my father can't reach.”
“Does that place exist?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“The apartment where my mother died.”
He took me there before dawn.
The building had been sealed for years.
Inside, everything remained untouched.
Dust-covered furniture.
Old books.
A piano.
Photographs.
Then I saw something on the wall.
A picture of my mother.
Beside her was Eleanor.
Both women were pregnant.
I moved closer.
Two babies were visible in the photograph.
One was Damian.
The other was me.
I stared at the image.
“We were born together.”
Damian nodded.
“Yes.”
“But that's impossible.”
“Not if the records were falsified.”
“Why would our mothers hide our births?”
He didn't answer.
Then I heard footsteps.
Victor entered.
Damian pulled his weapon.
“You followed us.”
Victor ignored the gun.
He looked at the photograph.
For the first time, the old man's composure disappeared.
“I prayed this room would never be opened again.”
I pointed at him.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew everything.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me why my mother disappeared.”
Victor's voice cracked.
“She didn't.”
“What?”
“She was taken.”
“By who?”
Victor looked at Damian.
“By the one person I never managed to control.”
“Who?”
May you like
Victor whispered the name.
“Adrian Cross.”
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