Chapter 2 - The Mafia Boss Told Me My Mother Had Not Died the Way I Was ToldAdrien sent everyone out.
Only Marco remained outside the door.
He closed the curtains.
The city disappeared.
“Tell me everything you remember about your mother.”
I shook my head.
“She died.”
“How?”
“A car accident.”
“Where?”
“Outside Albany.”
“Who told you?”
“My father.”
“Your father was there?”
“No.”
“He identified the body?”
I froze.
“I was seven.”
“Did you see it?”
“No.”
“Did anyone let you?”
“No.”
Adrien's eyes hardened.
“Then you don't know that she died.”
I hated how logical he sounded.
“She had a funeral.”
“Closed casket?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“They said the injuries were severe.”
He didn't answer.
He simply handed me another photograph.
My mother.
Alive.
Three years after the funeral.
Standing outside a clinic in Montreal.
My legs weakened.
“No.”
Adrien caught my elbow.
I pulled away.
“No.”
“She can't be alive.”
“Look at the date.”
I did.
It was real.
Twelve years ago.
I had been nine.
“She survived.”
“Someone changed her identity.”
“Why?”
Adrien looked at me.
“Because your mother knew something.”
“What?”
He hesitated.
“My father.”
I frowned.
“What about him?”
“He met your mother before I was born.”
“How?”
“She was helping him move money.”
My stomach tightened.
“Money?”
“Not criminal money.”
“Witness money.”
I didn't understand.
Adrien explained.
His father had been running a private security network.
Some of his clients were whistleblowers.
People who knew too much about powerful criminal organizations.
My mother had worked with them.
Then she discovered a larger operation.
A network operating across New York.
Chicago.
Miami.
And Europe.
“Who ran it?”
Adrien looked at me.
“Your father.”
I couldn't breathe.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“He didn't die either.”
I stared.
He continued:
“Your mother discovered what he was doing.”
“She tried to expose him.”
“And?”
“She disappeared.”
I felt sick.
My whole childhood had been a lie.
“Why did my father tell me she was dead?”
“Because he needed you to believe she couldn't protect you.”
Adrien handed me another document.
Birth record.
Lena Elena Hart.
Mother:
Elena Hart.
Father:
Daniel Carter.
I stared.
“What does that prove?”
Adrien leaned forward.
“That your father used another surname.”
Carter.
I had never known.
My mother had called him Daniel.
I thought it was an ordinary name.
Apparently nothing about my family was ordinary.
I asked:
“Why does Marcus know?”
Adrien's expression became cold.
“Because Marcus works for someone.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
I stopped breathing.
“You said he was dead.”
“He wants everyone to think he is.”
I stared.
Adrien continued:
“Marcus wasn't only dating you.”
“He was watching you.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
The room tilted.
“Why?”
“Because you inherited something.”
“What?”
“Access.”
“To what?”
“The Viscari archives.”
I frowned.
“My family?”
“Your mother left something with my father.”
“What?”
“A key.”
“To the archive.”
“What archive?”
Adrien looked toward the city.
“The ledger.”
The word made my stomach twist.
“What ledger?”
“The one containing every name in the network.”
“Your father had it.”
“He did.”
“Then where is it?”
“My father died before he could use it.”
“And my mother?”
“She knew where it was.”
“Why didn't she tell you?”
“She disappeared first.”
I stared at the photograph.
My mother's face scratched out.
Someone had wanted her identity erased.
Not just hidden.
Erased.
“Why me?”
Adrien sat.
“Because your mother left you something.”
“What?”
He reached beneath the desk.
Pulled out a small metal box.
Inside was a pendant.
I recognized it immediately.
My mother had worn it when I was little.
She used to tell me:
“Never take this off.”
My fingers trembled.
“How did you get it?”
“Marcus had it.”
“What?”
Adrien explained.
He had taken it from Marcus's apartment.
Marcus had kept a hidden safe.
Inside were photographs of me.
Letters.
A surveillance file.
And the pendant.
I stared.
“How long did he have this?”
“Three years.”
Three years.
He had been watching me.
Dating me.
Living with me.
Touching me.
Lying to me.
I felt sick.
Adrien watched silently.
Then asked:
“Do you want revenge?”
I looked at him.
“No.”
“What do you want?”
“I want the truth.”
He nodded.
“Then stay with me.”
“For how long?”
“Until we find it.”
I hesitated.
“Why?”
His expression softened.
“Because now they're coming for me too.”
He handed me a phone.
One new message.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LET HER DIE.
Adrien looked at it.
Then at me.
“Someone knows I'm helping you.”
My heart raced.
“Then I should leave.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you're safer here.”
“You don't even know me.”
He stepped closer.
“Neither did Marcus.”
His eyes locked on mine.
“And he nearly killed you.”
Silence.
I hated that he was right.
But I trusted him.
Not completely.
Not yet.
That night, I slept behind a locked door.
I dreamed about my mother.
She stood in a hallway.
Holding the pendant.
And she said:
“Don't trust the man who remembers me.”
I woke sweating.
Because Adrien had just told me he knew her.
May you like
And I didn't know whether my mother's warning had been about him.
Or about someone else.
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