Chapter 6 - The Mother's Secret
For the first time in my life, I wished my father had been less mysterious.
A simple warning would have been enough.
Something like:
Evie, never trust a man named Samuel Voss.
Or:
Your mother is hiding something important.
Or even:
Please don't fall in love with a Mafia boss.
Instead, he'd left encrypted financial records, complicated instructions, and letters that seemed determined to destroy every relationship I had.
I stood in Vincent's office holding the message.
“Which side she has chosen,” I repeated.
Vincent nodded grimly.
“That's what it says.”
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“She wouldn't betray him.”
“I hope you're right.”
I stared at him.
“You don't know her.”
“No.”
“Then don't judge her.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Evelyn, someone has your mother. We need to find out whether she was taken against her will or whether she's involved.”
The suggestion made my chest tighten.
“She's my mother.”
“And you're someone I intend to keep alive.”
The words landed unexpectedly.
I looked up.
Vincent seemed to realize what he'd said.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then his phone rang.
Marco.
Vincent answered.
“Talk to me.”
He listened.
His expression sharpened.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“Send it.”
He ended the call.
I waited.
Vincent looked at me.
“We found your mother's car.”
“Where?”
“Near an abandoned industrial property in Cicero.”
“Was she inside?”
“No.”
My heart sank.
“But there was a phone in the back seat.”
“Her phone?”
“Yes.”
“Can we track it?”
“It's been turned off. But someone left a recording.”
I felt cold.
“What recording?”
Vincent hesitated.
Then played it.
My mother's voice filled the office.
“Evelyn, sweetheart, if you're hearing this, please understand that everything I did was to protect you.”
I pressed a hand against the desk.
Her voice trembled.
“I never wanted you to learn about Daniel this way.”
There was a pause.
Then she whispered:
“Your father survived the accident.”
My knees weakened.
Vincent reached for my elbow.
The recording continued.
“I knew he survived. I helped him disappear.”
The room went silent.
I stared at the phone.
My mother had known.
For seventeen years.
She had let me grieve.
Let me visit that grave.
Let me believe my father had died.
And all the while—
“I don't understand,” I whispered.
The recording continued.
“I couldn't tell you. Samuel threatened to kill you if I ever revealed the truth. Daniel agreed that you would be safer believing he was dead.”
My vision blurred.
“So he chose to leave me?”
Vincent said nothing.
My mother's voice broke.
“I know you'll hate me. But please, sweetheart, remember that I love you.”
Then another voice interrupted.
A man's voice.
Samuel Voss.
“Enough.”
My mother gasped.
The recording ended.
I stared at the phone.
Something inside me went numb.
Vincent gently touched my shoulder.
I pulled away.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
“I need a minute.”
“Of course.”
I walked out of the office.
Down the hallway.
Past the family photographs.
Past the enormous staircase.
I kept walking until I reached a glass door opening onto a terrace.
Cold air struck my face.
I welcomed it.
I wanted something to hurt.
Something simple.
Something that made sense.
My father had been alive after the accident.
My mother had helped him disappear.
They had decided I was safer without the truth.
Perhaps they were right.
Perhaps they had no choice.
But seventeen years was a long time to spend believing someone had abandoned this world.
I leaned against the railing and cried.
Not gracefully.
Not quietly.
I cried the way I had at seventeen.
With all the anger I'd never allowed myself to feel.
After a while, the door opened.
I didn't turn.
Vincent stepped outside.
He carried two mugs.
He placed one beside me.
“Tea.”
I wiped my face.
“I don't want tea.”
“Good. It's coffee.”
I gave a wet laugh despite myself.
He leaned beside me.
For several minutes, we stood in silence.
Then I whispered, “Did your father ever lie to you?”
Vincent looked toward the trees.
“Every day.”
I turned.
He gave a humorless smile.
“He told me I could leave the family business whenever I wanted.”
“Could you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because when he got sick, the men beneath him started fighting. If I'd walked away, people would have died.”
I studied him.
“You didn't want this life?”
“I wanted to be a chef.”
I blinked.
“A chef?”
He looked offended.
“Is that surprising?”
“Vincent, you were eating a chicken sandwich beneath a table.”
“Exactly. A man with refined culinary instincts.”
I laughed.
A real laugh this time.
Then it faded.
“Why didn't you become one?”
He stared into his coffee.
“My younger brother, Matteo, was killed during a dispute between two crews. I was twenty-seven.”
My chest tightened.
“I'm sorry.”
Vincent nodded.
“After that, I stopped believing I could simply walk away.”
I looked at him.
“Do you regret it?”
“Every day.”
The honesty hurt.
I reached for his hand.
He looked down at our fingers.
Then slowly closed his hand around mine.
We stood that way until Marco appeared at the door.
“Boss.”
Vincent turned.
“What?”
“Rachel remembered something.”
We returned to the office.
Rachel was seated near the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket.
Her bruises looked darker in the morning light.
Marco stood beside her.
She looked at me.
“Evie, I'm sorry.”
I didn't answer.
She swallowed.
“My father used to take me to a cabin near Lake Geneva.”
Vincent crossed his arms.
“Where?”
“Wisconsin. A private property on the western shore.”
“Why is that important?”
“Because six years ago, I went there unexpectedly.”
She looked directly at me.
“And I saw Daniel Hartwell.”
My breath caught.
“What?”
“He was older. Thinner. He had a beard. But I recognized him from your pictures.”
I stared.
“You saw my father?”
Rachel nodded.
“He was alive.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you speak to him?”
“No. My father caught me watching. He told me Daniel was a dangerous man and ordered me never to return.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Rachel began crying.
“Because he threatened to hurt you.”
I looked away.
Again, the same excuse.
Protection.
Secrets.
Lies.
My entire life had apparently been built on people protecting me from truths I deserved to know.
Vincent turned toward Marco.
“Find the property.”
Marco nodded.
Rachel continued.
“I don't think my father owns it anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because I overheard him discussing a transfer.”
“To whom?”
She hesitated.
“Bianca Moretti.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
I recognized the name.
Bianca.
The woman his mother had wanted him to marry at the gala.
I looked at him.
“Who is she?”
Vincent answered slowly.
“Bianca Moretti is the daughter of a powerful business family with longstanding ties to my organization.”
“Does she know Samuel?”
“I didn't think so.”
Marco checked his phone.
“Boss, there's more.”
Vincent looked at him.
“The property was purchased through a company controlled by Bianca's father, Carlo Moretti.”
Vincent swore under his breath.
I stared.
“So the woman your mother wanted you to marry is connected to the man who kidnapped my mother?”
“Possibly.”
I shook my head.
“This is insane.”
Vincent's expression was cold.
“It's beginning to make sense.”
“How?”
“My father once considered merging several businesses with Carlo Moretti's holdings. The deal collapsed after allegations that money was missing.”
“Money my father discovered?”
“Maybe.”
I looked at Rachel.
“Do you think my father is still there?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Vincent reached for his phone.
Then it rang before he could dial.
An unknown number.
He answered on speaker.
“Marino.”
A woman's voice responded.
Smooth.
Confident.
Familiar from the gala.
“Vincent, darling.”
His jaw tightened.
“Bianca.”
I looked at him.
She laughed softly.
“I heard you've been spending time with Evelyn Hartwell.”
Vincent said nothing.
“How charming,” Bianca continued. “Your mother must be delighted.”
“What do you want?”
“A conversation.”
“Then talk.”
“Oh, not over the phone.”
A pause.
Then she said:
“Bring Evelyn to the Harrington Conservatory tonight.”
My blood turned cold.
The same location Samuel had demanded.
Vincent's voice became dangerous.
“Where is Margaret Hartwell?”
Bianca laughed again.
“Still alive.”
I grabbed the desk.
“Put my mother on the phone!”
Bianca went silent.
Then spoke directly to me.
“Evelyn. How lovely.”
“Where is she?”
“You'll see her soon.”
“If you've hurt her—”
“Please. We're civilized people.”
Vincent's expression was murderous.
Bianca continued.
“And Vincent?”
“Yes?”
“Tell Evelyn to bring the necklace.”
He looked at me.
May you like
Then Bianca added the words that changed everything.
“Because her father is running out of time.”
