Chapter 2 - The Man Who Stole Me Twenty-One Years Ago Returned to Finish What He Started—And He Knew My Real NameThe darkness lasted only six seconds.
But six seconds was enough.
Emergency lights flashed red across the corridor.
Somewhere downstairs, alarms screamed.
Marcus drew his weapon.
Dominic tried to stand.
I pushed him back.
“You're not going anywhere.”
He glared at me.
“Someone is inside this building.”
“You have three bullet wounds.”
“I've had worse.”
“That's not reassuring.”
Marcus spoke into his radio.
“Lock down the floor.”
Static answered.
He frowned.
“Repeat.”
Nothing.
The communication system had been cut.
Dominic looked at me.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
He stared.
“I said stay here.”
“And I said you're my patient.”
For the first time, the corner of his mouth moved.
“You're stubborn.”
“So I've been told.”
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Someone was approaching.
Marcus positioned himself beside the door.
Dominic reached beneath the mattress.
He pulled out a pistol.
I stared at him.
“You're insane.”
“Probably.”
The footsteps stopped.
The door opened.
A man stepped inside.
Gray hair.
Black coat.
Thin scar across his jaw.
My body reacted before my mind did.
I knew him.
Not from a recent memory.
From a nightmare.
A nightmare I had carried since childhood.
A man's hand.
A silver ring.
A voice whispering:
“Don't tell anyone your name.”
I backed away.
The man smiled.
“Elena.”
Dominic raised his weapon.
“Silas.”
The man's smile widened.
“You remember me.”
Dominic's voice became deadly.
“You should have stayed buried.”
Silas looked at me.
“She doesn't remember.”
“What did you do to her?”
“I saved her.”
“You stole her.”
“I protected her from you.”
I stared between them.
“What is happening?”
Silas looked at me.
“Your brother has lied to you.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“Don't listen to him.”
Silas laughed.
“Ask him who ordered your father's death.”
I looked at Dominic.
He said nothing.
Silas stepped backward.
“Ask him what happened the night your family burned.”
Then he disappeared.
Marcus rushed after him.
But the corridor was empty.
Dominic stared at the doorway.
I turned toward him.
“Tell me.”
“Not here.”
“Tell me now.”
He looked at me.
“Our father was killed because he planned to leave the criminal world.”
“And you?”
“I was seventeen.”
“You said you killed him.”
“I thought I did.”
“What does that mean?”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“The fire was staged.”
I stared at him.
“Our father survived.”
“And disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because someone wanted the Vale family to believe he was dead.”
I whispered:
“Who?”
Dominic looked toward the window.
“Your mother.”
I felt the world shift again.
“My mother?”
“She helped him disappear.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
I looked at the compass.
“And Silas?”
“He was our father's most trusted lieutenant.”
“Then why did he take me?”
Dominic didn't answer.
That silence told me everything.
“You don't know.”
“No.”
“Or you don't want to tell me?”
His eyes met mine.
“Both.”
I walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Silas.”
Dominic grabbed my wrist.
His face tightened from the pain.
“Don't.”
I stared at his hand.
He released me.
“Grace…”
I corrected him.
“My name is Elena.”
His expression softened.
“Yes.”
“Elena.”
He said it quietly.
Like he'd been waiting twenty-one years to say it.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
At 4:12 a.m., someone slipped a note under my hospital room door.
I opened it.
May you like
Three words.
YOUR FATHER LIVES.
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