Chapter 4 - The Child Who Was Never Supposed to Survive
Vincent refused to tell Maya the truth immediately.
Not because he wanted to hide it.
Because he wanted proof.
They spent the entire night searching old records.
Birth certificates.
Hospital logs.
Family archives.
Court documents.
Every file led to the same impossible conclusion.
Twenty-three years ago, Vincent Torino's mother had given birth to a daughter.
The official record said the child died minutes after birth.
But there was no death certificate.
No burial.
No medical report.
Only a handwritten note saying, infant transferred by order.
Maya stared at the document.
"Transferred where?"
"No record."
"Who ordered it?"
Vincent looked up.
"My father."
Her voice shook.
"Why would he give away his own daughter?"
"We don't know."
Adrian entered carrying another file.
"I found the nurse."
Maya stood.
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Retirement home outside Pittsburgh."
Vincent grabbed his coat.
"We're going."
The trip took four hours.
The nurse's name was Evelyn Hart.
She was eighty-one years old.
When she saw Vincent, she began to cry.
"I knew someone would come."
Maya's heart raced.
"You know me?"
Evelyn looked at her face.
Then at the bracelet around her wrist.
"Your mother made that."
Maya whispered, "My mother?"
"Elena Torino."
Vincent's breath caught.
His mother.
Dead for eighteen years.
Evelyn closed her eyes.
"The baby wasn't dead."
Silence.
Vincent stepped closer.
"What happened?"
Evelyn's voice trembled.
"Your father believed someone inside the organization was planning to kill the child."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"No."
She looked at Maya.
"Your father ordered me to say the baby died."
Maya felt tears burn her eyes.
"Then where did I go?"
"You were taken to a safe family."
"My family."
Evelyn nodded.
"Your father made sure you were protected."
Maya stared.
"Why didn't he come for me?"
"He tried."
Her heart broke.
"He tried?"
"Many times."
Evelyn looked at Vincent.
"But every time he came close, someone attacked him."
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"Marcus?"
"No."
The nurse's answer was quiet.
"Your own uncle."
Vincent froze.
"My uncle?"
"Richard Torino."
The same man who had pulled him aside at the wedding.
The same man who had demanded five minutes.
The same man Maya had met.
"Richard wanted the organization," Evelyn continued. "He thought your father would never give it to him while the baby lived."
Maya whispered, "So my father sent me away."
"Yes."
"Then he disappeared."
Evelyn nodded.
"Your father wasn't killed by the police."
"Who killed him?"
The nurse looked directly at Vincent.
"Richard."
The room went silent.
Vincent closed his eyes.
All those years.
All the family dinners.
All the times Richard had called him son.
Maya touched Vincent's arm.
He didn't move.
Evelyn continued.
"There is one more thing."
Vincent looked up.
"The marriage tonight was never about peace."
Maya's stomach tightened.
"What was it about?"
"Richard planned to unite with the Morettis long enough to take control of the city."
Vincent understood.
"Then have me killed."
"Yes."
"And blame the Morettis."
"Yes."
Maya stared at him.
"So you were supposed to die tonight."
Evelyn nodded.
"But then you arrived."
Nobody spoke.
Finally Maya whispered, "I ruined the wedding."
Vincent looked at her.
"You saved my life."
On the drive back, Maya sat beside him in silence.
After an hour, Vincent spoke.
"I owe you an apology."
"For what?"
"For claiming you."
She looked at him.
"I didn't know the truth."
"You didn't."
"But you said I was yours."
Vincent's expression softened.
"I said it because I needed the room to understand one thing."
"What?"
"No one was going to take you."
Maya looked out the window.
After a long silence, she said, "And now?"
Vincent waited.
She turned toward him.
"Now I want the truth."
"You have it."
"All of it?"
He nodded.
"Then don't decide my future for me."
Vincent stared at her.
"What future do you want?"
Maya breathed in.
"A life that belongs to me."
His answer was immediate.
"Then that's what you'll have."
She smiled faintly.
The moment was interrupted when Vincent's phone rang.
Adrian's voice was urgent.
"Boss, Richard is gone."
Vincent's expression changed.
"Where?"
"Nobody knows."
"And Isabella?"
Another pause.
"Missing too."
Vincent looked at Maya.
Everything suddenly made sense.
Richard hadn't escaped.
He had taken Isabella.
Because the one person capable of exposing him was the woman he had once planned to use as Vincent's wife.
Vincent ordered the driver to turn around.
"We're going back."
Maya said, "No."
He frowned.
"I know where they'll go."
"Where?"
She remembered something.
"Marcus talked about a lake house."
Vincent stared.
"Where?"
She gave him the address.
Adrian checked it.
"She's right."
Vincent's eyes hardened.
"Let's go."
They arrived after dark.
The lake house was empty.
Almost.
A broken chair lay in the kitchen.
Blood marked the floor.
And on the dining table was a single photograph.
Isabella and Maya.
Taken when neither woman knew the other existed.
Behind it, someone had written:
Two daughters.
One throne.
Only one survives.
Vincent looked at Maya.
For the first time, fear crossed his face.
"Run."
She shook her head.
"I'm not leaving you."
"Maya."
"I said I'm not leaving."
The lights went out.
A voice came from the darkness.
"Then you can both die together."
May you like
Richard.
And the gunfire began.
