Chapter 4 - The Father Who Wasn't Supposed to Exist
Victor called an emergency meeting.
Silvano arrived first.
He stared at the photograph.
Then at me.
“You never knew?”
“No.”
He looked at Victor.
“Your brother had a daughter.”
Victor nodded.
Silvano sat down.
“That changes everything.”
I hated those words.
Everything was always changing.
My life had gone from struggling to pay rent to discovering I might be related to a criminal dynasty.
“I don't want any of this.”
Victor looked at me.
“You don't get to choose what you were born into.”
“I can choose what I do with it.”
He nodded.
That was why I trusted him.
He didn't tell me what I wanted.
He told me the truth.
Unfortunately, the truth was getting more dangerous.
Silvano found evidence that Alessandro had maintained a second identity.
He had been trying to leave the organization.
He had planned to take his wife and child away.
But he had died before he could.
Isabella knew.
My mother knew.
Victor's father knew.
And someone had killed Alessandro to stop him.
The boys discovered the truth too.
Marco asked whether I was their aunt.
Nico asked whether that made Victor my brother.
I laughed.
“No.”
Luca asked whether that meant they were my cousins.
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“Then you can't leave.”
The simplicity of a child's logic almost made me cry.
That afternoon, Lucia came to the estate.
I had no choice.
My regular babysitter had fallen sick, and the court required me to prove I could maintain childcare while working.
Victor offered one of the guest rooms.
I refused.
Then he surprised me.
“Your daughter should know where you work.”
When Lucia entered, four boys surrounded her within seconds.
She looked at them suspiciously.
Marco handed her a paper boat.
“This is yours.”
Lucia smiled.
And suddenly, the house filled with laughter.
Victor stood in the doorway.
He watched my daughter interact with his sons.
Something softened in his face.
Lucia approached him.
“Are you Mr. Victor?”
“Yes.”
“Mom says you're scary.”
I nearly choked.
Victor looked at me.
“You said that?”
“I said people think you're scary.”
“That is better.”
Lucia studied him.
“Are you really a bad man?”
The room went silent.
Victor knelt.
“I've done bad things.”
Lucia nodded as though that were an acceptable answer.
“But are you bad now?”
Victor looked at me.
Then at the four boys.
“No.”
She smiled.
“Okay.”
Children had a way of reducing complicated lives to simple questions.
That night, Lucia fell asleep beside Josie—no, I corrected myself mentally, beside the boys' pile of stuffed animals.
The four boys sat on the floor around her.
Victor came to the door.
“You look happy.”
I smiled.
“I haven't seen her this comfortable in months.”
His voice softened.
“Neither have I.”
That moment might have been perfect.
Until the alarm sounded.
Silvano rushed in.
“We found Matteo.”
My blood ran cold.
Victor looked at me.
“He's been meeting Malcolm Vieri.”
I knew the name.
Everyone in New Orleans did.
Vieri was one of the few men reckless enough to challenge Victor openly.
“What does Matteo want?”
Silvano answered.
“Your daughter.”
I stepped forward.
“No.”
Victor immediately moved between me and the door.
“Not while I'm alive.”
Silvano handed him a photograph.
Matteo stood beside Vieri.
And behind them was a file.
My name was visible.
Fay? no. Serena Valente.
They had my old hospital records.
They had Lucia's birth certificate.
They had everything.
Victor's expression darkened.
“Get her daughter somewhere safe.”
I grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“Serena.”
“I'm not hiding.”
“You're not making this a debate.”
“It became a debate when they tried to use my daughter.”
He stared at me.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
“What?”
“You're right.”
I blinked.
“You trust me?”
He looked at me.
“More than I trust anyone.”
That sentence changed something between us.
Later, while everyone prepared security, I found one of Isabella's hidden journals.
The final entry contained a name.
Not Victor.
Not Malcolm.
Not Matteo.
My mother.
“Margaret knows the truth.”
I stopped breathing.
My mother had lied.
She had known everything.
I called her.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Serena?”
“Mom.”
Silence.
“I know.”
She started crying.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From whom?”
“Your father.”
My body went cold.
“Where is he?”
“He's alive.”
I couldn't speak.
My father had not abandoned us.
He had been hiding.
May you like
My mother finally said:
“He's been in prison under another name for twenty-five years.”
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