Chapter 3 - My Grandmother Revealed the Name of the Man Behind Everything
My grandmother's confession changed the air in the room.
Alessandro didn't move.
Neither did I.
“You're saying my mother tried to save his life?” I asked.
Grandmother's eyes filled with tears.
“Your mother tried to save everyone.”
“Everyone?”
She nodded.
“Your mother discovered that Don Moretti was being betrayed by someone inside the family.”
Alessandro's face remained unreadable.
“Who?”
Grandmother stared at him.
“I never knew the full name.”
“That isn't good enough.”
She flinched.
I stepped between them.
“Don't talk to her like that.”
Alessandro's eyes shifted toward me.
For a second, something almost like respect appeared.
Then my grandmother whispered a name.
“Victor.”
Alessandro froze.
“Victor who?”
“Victor Bellande.”
His expression changed completely.
I had never seen a man become that still.
“That's impossible.”
Grandmother shook her head.
“He was your father's lawyer.”
Alessandro said nothing.
“He wasn't just your father's lawyer,” Grandmother continued. “He was the one who arranged the shipment that night.”
Alessandro's jaw tightened.
“Which shipment?”
“The one that vanished.”
“What was in it?”
Grandmother looked at me.
“Children.”
Silence.
I couldn't breathe.
Alessandro's eyes became murderous.
“Explain.”
Grandmother wiped her tears.
“Your father's criminal empire was evil. But even he had lines he wouldn't cross. Victor knew that. So Victor built a second operation under his name.”
I felt cold all over.
“Human trafficking?”
Grandmother nodded.
“My mother found out.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Your mother stole evidence.”
“The black box.”
Grandmother's eyes closed.
“Yes.”
I looked at Alessandro.
“The box wasn't your father's secret?”
“It was.”
“It contained the evidence?”
“Apparently.”
She continued.
“Your mother believed Don Moretti would use that evidence to expose Victor.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Don Moretti died before he could.”
Alessandro's fists tightened.
“My father died of a heart attack.”
Grandmother looked at him.
“That wasn't a heart attack.”
His face changed.
“What?”
“He was poisoned.”
I stepped back.
Everything I had ever heard about the Moretti family had just turned into a lie.
“What about my father?”
Grandmother looked down.
“He helped your mother steal the evidence.”
“Then he disappeared because Victor was hunting him?”
“Yes.”
“Was he alive?”
She hesitated.
“That depends on what you call alive.”
My heart cracked.
“What does that mean?”
“He survived the shooting.”
My hands went numb.
“You're telling me my father was alive?”
“Not for long.”
“Where did he go?”
“Switzerland.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because someone was watching us.”
“Who?”
Grandmother looked at Alessandro.
“His people.”
Alessandro frowned.
“My people?”
She nodded.
“When your father was hunting Victor, your family became divided. Some wanted the truth hidden. Some wanted Victor dead. Others wanted the money.”
“And my mother?”
“She disappeared.”
“Then died?”
“No.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“My daughter did not die in the accident.”
Alessandro stepped forward.
“What happened?”
Grandmother's voice broke.
“She was taken.”
My knees almost gave out.
“For years, I thought she was dead.”
“She was imprisoned.”
“Where?”
“We never found out.”
I looked at Alessandro.
He immediately turned to Dominic's deputy.
“Find every old Moretti facility.”
The man nodded.
“Every property?”
“Every property.”
“And Victor?”
“Find him.”
The deputy hurried out.
I stared at Alessandro.
“You actually believe her.”
“I believe enough.”
My grandmother looked toward the black box.
“Did you open it?”
“Yes.”
Her expression became terrified.
“What did you find?”
“Letters. A key. A photograph. A message.”
“Which message?”
Alessandro repeated it.
YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO OPEN THIS ALONE.
Grandmother went pale.
“There should have been another line.”
“There was.”
He showed her.
IF THE BOX OPENS, TRUST NO ONE IN THE HOUSE.
She whispered, “No.”
“What?”
She pointed at the box.
“The fifth dial.”
“The raven?”
“Yes.”
“It didn't turn.”
I explained how I pressed it inward.
Grandmother stared at me.
“Your mother taught you that.”
“What?”
“When you were six, she used to tell you stories.”
I frowned.
“I barely remember.”
“She taught you how to solve puzzles using stories.”
“That doesn't mean—”
“She knew you had her mind.”
Alessandro looked at me.
I suddenly remembered something.
A woman sitting beside my bed.
A warm hand.
A wooden puzzle.
A voice whispering:
“Never trust the obvious answer, Clara.”
My mother's voice.
I covered my mouth.
Alessandro noticed.
“You remember.”
“I remember her.”
Grandmother smiled sadly.
“Then maybe the box was meant for you.”
The room fell quiet.
Later that night, Alessandro took me back to the library.
The box rested on the desk.
He opened it.
The letters were old but surprisingly preserved.
The first was addressed to Don Moretti.
The second was addressed to my mother.
The third had no name.
Alessandro handed me the third.
I unfolded it.
The handwriting made my heart stop.
It was my mother's.
Clara,
If you are reading this, then they failed to erase everything.
Do not trust the man who tells you he loves you.
Do not trust the man who says he protects you.
And above all, do not trust the man who believes he owns the truth.
There is one person in this family who knows why I disappeared.
His name begins with V.
But the person you must fear most is the person who has already forgiven him.
I read the final sentence twice.
Then I looked up.
Alessandro was staring at me.
“Your father,” he said.
I shook my head.
“His name was Ethan.”
“Ethan had a brother.”
I went still.
“What?”
Alessandro opened another file.
He placed a photograph in front of me.
Two young men.
Ethan Hayes.
And another man.
They looked almost identical.
“Your father had an older brother.”
I stared.
“Who?”
“Victor Bellande.”
My heart stopped.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does.”
“My grandmother said Victor was Don Moretti's lawyer.”
“He was.”
“Then why did my mother say his name began with V?”
“Because Victor used three identities.”
I stared at him.
“And one of them…”
“Was Ethan Hayes.”
I could no longer breathe.
“My father wasn't Ethan?”
“He was.”
“Then Victor is my uncle?”
“Yes.”
The door burst open.
Dominic's deputy stumbled inside.
“We found the records.”
Alessandro turned.
“Where?”
“Under the old chapel.”
“What records?”
The man swallowed.
“Birth certificates.”
He looked at me.
“Two of them.”
“Whose?”
“Clara Hayes.”
My blood froze.
“And…”
He hesitated.
“Another child.”
My heart pounded.
“Whose child?”
May you like
He looked at Alessandro.
“Your father's.”
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