Chapter 4 - The Secret Adrian Never Told Me
Monday began with flowers.
Not roses.
White lilies.
They were on the dining table when I entered the kitchen.
A card sat beside them.
For the woman who makes this place feel less empty.
No name.
I turned toward Adrian.
He was standing at the stove.
“Did you write this?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
He looked at the flowers.
“Not my mother.”
I frowned.
“Who else knew I was here?”
“Too many people.”
He walked closer.
The flowers were removed immediately.
Security checked the package.
Nothing dangerous.
But the message bothered Adrian.
It bothered me more.
By noon, Victor Hale's name appeared in another file.
Adrian gave me access to his private records.
“You need to understand what you're involved in.”
I read the documents.
Victor had been my father's partner.
Adrian's father had trusted him.
Then money disappeared.
People disappeared.
Contracts went missing.
Victor vanished.
For years, everyone believed he was dead.
Now he was back.
“Why are you afraid of him?”
Adrian stood beside me.
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
He sighed.
“I was sixteen when I learned what my father really did.”
I looked at him.
“Your father hurt people.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“And Victor?”
“He knew everything.”
Adrian looked at the floor.
“My father wanted me to take over.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if I didn't, someone worse would.”
I understood.
He hadn't become powerful because he wanted power.
He had inherited a war.
And he had spent years trying to stop it from swallowing everyone around him.
“Does your mother know?”
“Some of it.”
“Does she know about Victor?”
“She knows enough to be afraid.”
I closed the file.
“What happened to your father?”
Adrian was silent.
“He was murdered.”
“By Victor?”
“We don't know.”
“You think he was?”
“I think Victor knew more than he admitted.”
I looked at him.
“And you think Victor killed him.”
“Yes.”
“Then why is Victor back?”
“Because he wants something.”
“What?”
“You.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“He thinks I love you.”
I looked at him.
“Do you?”
Silence.
He did not answer.
My heart pounded.
Then his phone rang.
He turned away.
“Moretti.”
Pause.
His face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
“Where?”
He ended the call.
“Mom is missing.”
Everything stopped.
We found Elena's car outside her favorite bakery.
Her purse was inside.
Her phone was gone.
There was one message waiting on Adrian's private line.
Bring Emily to the old Moretti warehouse.
Come alone.
Adrian stared at the screen.
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“They have your mother.”
“I know.”
“And they want me.”
“I know.”
“Then we go.”
“No.”
I grabbed his arm.
“You can't go alone.”
“I didn't say I was going alone.”
“Then who?”
“You're staying here.”
“Adrian.”
“No.”
His voice was sharp enough to cut.
“This isn't a game anymore.”
“I know.”
“Then listen to me.”
“I am.”
“You're not going.”
I stepped closer.
“You don't get to decide that.”
His eyes flashed.
“I am responsible for you.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You are responsible for your mother.”
That stopped him.
Then I added, “And I can decide what risks I take.”
He looked at me.
“You could die.”
“So could you.”
His jaw tightened.
“I can't lose you.”
The words came out before he could stop them.
We both froze.
His eyes stayed on mine.
My heart beat painfully.
“You can't lose me?”
He looked away.
“I need you alive.”
“That isn't what you said.”
He didn't answer.
I reached for his hand.
“Adrian.”
He looked back.
“I’m coming.”
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then nodded.
The warehouse was empty.
Too empty.
Elena was not there.
Instead, we found a projector.
It turned on by itself.
A video appeared.
Adrian's father.
Alive.
Years younger.
Sitting in a chair.
Beside him stood Victor.
And behind them was a little girl.
Me.
I stopped breathing.
“That isn't possible.”
Adrian turned to me.
“What?”
“My father.”
The photograph on the screen changed.
My mother.
My father.
Victor.
And Adrian's father.
All standing together.
Adrian stared.
“Your parents knew my father.”
I shook my head.
“They never told me.”
The video continued.
Victor looked directly into the camera.
“Emily Hayes is the key.”
Adrian stepped in front of me.
The screen went black.
A voice came through hidden speakers.
“Ask your mother what she stole.”
I looked at Adrian.
“My mother?”
Before he could answer, another door slammed.
Men rushed into the warehouse.
Gunfire exploded.
Adrian grabbed my hand.
“Run!”
We ran through the rear corridor.
Someone fired.
Adrian pushed me behind a concrete pillar.
A bullet struck his shoulder.
“Adrian!”
“I'm fine.”
Blood spread across his shirt.
“You're not fine!”
“Keep moving.”
We escaped through a loading bay.
Outside, rain poured.
Adrian leaned against the car.
I tore a piece of fabric from my sleeve and pressed it against his wound.
He looked down at me.
“You ruined your clothes.”
“I'll survive.”
His eyes softened.
“You always do.”
Then he said something that made me forget the blood.
“I think my father knew your parents.”
The next morning, a letter arrived from my mother's lawyer.
One sentence.
May you like
Your mother left something for you.
And it may be the reason Adrian Moretti is still alive.
