Chapter 2 - Dante Took Me Into His Mansion—And Found The Childhood Secret Hidden Inside Me
I thought Dante Vale was going to ask me questions.
Instead, he gave one order.
"Bring her home."
The word hit me harder than it should have.
Home.
I had never really had one.
I had lived in seven foster homes.
Three rented rooms.
Two cheap apartments.
One tiny attic above a restaurant.
Home was not a place for me.
It was something other people had.
Dante seemed to sense my hesitation.
"You don't have to call it home."
"Then what should I call it?"
"Your mother's house."
I stared at him.
"My mother's?"
He nodded.
"If you are who I believe you are."
"And if I'm not?"
"Then I'll bring you back."
That answer surprised me.
He wasn't demanding.
He wasn't trying to force me.
He was afraid.
I recognized fear because I had lived with it for most of my life.
The ride to the Vale estate was silent.
Three SUVs surrounded us.
I sat beside Dante in the back of a black sedan.
He kept looking at me.
Not suspiciously.
Almost reverently.
Like he was trying to memorize every detail before someone could take me away again.
Finally, he asked:
"Do you know what happened to you after you disappeared?"
"No."
"I've spent twenty years trying to find out."
"Why did nobody find me?"
His jaw tightened.
"Because someone wanted you hidden."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think it was your enemies?"
"At first."
"And now?"
He looked at the folder on his lap.
"Now I'm not certain."
We entered the estate.
The gates closed behind us.
The house was enormous.
But it wasn't cold.
The walls were filled with photographs.
Dante as a young man.
Elena.
A little girl.
I stopped walking.
The child in the photograph was wearing a yellow dress.
She was laughing.
Her hair was dark and curly.
Her cheeks were round.
And above her heart was the same crescent-shaped mark.
I touched my chest.
"That's me."
Dante stopped behind me.
"Yes."
I stared at the photograph.
The memory struck suddenly.
A piano.
A woman singing.
A little girl hiding behind curtains.
A man's laughter.
Then a loud crash.
Glass breaking.
Someone shouting.
I grabbed the wall.
Dante caught me.
"What happened?"
"I remember."
"What?"
"The night I disappeared."
He held his breath.
"There was smoke."
His face hardened.
"Go on."
"Someone carried me."
"A man?"
"I don't know."
"Did you see his face?"
"No."
"What did he say?"
I closed my eyes.
"He kept saying... 'Don't let Dante find her.'"
Dante went completely still.
The room seemed to freeze.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
He looked at the photograph.
Then he pulled out his phone.
"Bring me every security report from the attack twenty years ago."
Within minutes, files began arriving.
I watched Dante read.
"Three attackers entered through the west wing."
"What happened?"
"Two were killed."
"The third?"
"Escaped."
"Did you ever identify him?"
"No."
I looked at him.
"Maybe he took me."
Dante's face darkened.
He stood suddenly.
"I'm going to find him."
I grabbed his sleeve.
"Dante."
He stopped.
"If he was involved twenty years ago, he may know what happened."
"I know."
"And if he knows who helped him..."
Dante looked at me.
"Then we find them all."
That night, Dr. Mercer arrived.
The DNA test took less than two hours to prepare.
I waited in a private room.
Dante sat across from me.
He didn't touch me.
He didn't speak.
He just watched.
Finally, the doctor entered.
He held a folder.
Dante stood.
"What does it say?"
The doctor looked at me.
Then at Dante.
"The probability of biological relationship is 99.9998 percent."
Dante closed his eyes.
I stopped breathing.
I was his daughter.
I was Amara Vale.
The lost child everyone thought was dead.
I didn't cry.
I laughed.
It came out broken.
Twenty years of not knowing.
Twenty years of wondering why nobody wanted me.
Twenty years of believing there had been something wrong with me.
And all along, I had belonged to someone.
Dante crossed the room.
He stopped inches away.
Then he asked:
"Can I hug you?"
That question destroyed me.
I nodded.
His arms wrapped around me.
He held me like I was still three years old.
And for the first time in my life, I let myself be someone's child.
He whispered into my hair.
"I'm sorry."
I cried.
"I looked for you."
"I know."
"No one could find you."
"I know."
"I never stopped."
I pulled back.
"Why didn't you have another daughter?"
His face crumpled.
"Because I already had one."
The door opened.
Vanessa stood there.
Her face was white.
"Dad..."
Dante released me slowly.
"You're not welcome in this house tonight."
She stared at him.
"You can't mean that."
"I do."
"But I'm your daughter."
Dante's eyes hardened.
"So is she."
Vanessa looked at me.
Her hatred became something darker.
"You can't replace me."
I shook my head.
"I'm not trying to."
"Yes, you are."
"No."
She stepped toward me.
"You took everything."
I answered quietly.
"I didn't take anything. I was missing."
That silenced her.
For a moment, Vanessa looked almost ashamed.
Then her phone buzzed.
She checked the screen.
Her face changed.
Dante noticed.
"Who is it?"
"No one."
"Give me the phone."
"No."
Two guards stepped forward.
Vanessa backed away.
"I said give it to me."
She refused.
Dante's security chief took it.
The message on the screen was short.
She knows about the ledger.
Get rid of her before the father finds it.
Dante read it.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
"Who is this?"
She began crying.
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"No."
"Vanessa."
"I swear."
Dante looked at me.
"We're going to discover who sent it."
Then his expression changed.
"Because tonight wasn't just the night I found my daughter."
May you like
He held up the phone.
"It's the night someone realized she's alive."
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