Chapter 2 - My Husband Discovered the Secret I Had Sworn to Bury
Roman drove in silence.
I had expected him to yell.
He didn't.
That was worse.
He only watched me through the rearview mirror every few seconds.
Finally, he said:
“Who sent the messages?”
“I don't know.”
“Has this happened before?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“How long?”
“Three months.”
He pulled the car to the curb.
“What?”
I looked down.
“Three months.”
“Anna.”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“When I knew what they wanted.”
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Then turned toward me.
“You could have been followed.”
“I was careful.”
“You could have been killed.”
“I know.”
“You don't know.”
His voice was controlled, but there was pain beneath it.
“I buried enough people.”
I reached for his hand.
He let me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then his phone rang.
One of his men had traced the messages.
The number belonged to a dead man.
Roman's expression hardened.
“A dead number.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone wants me to know they can hide.”
We returned to our house.
Roman's security team checked every room.
Nothing.
No cameras.
No weapons.
No intruders.
But when Roman opened the safe in his office, he found something missing.
A file.
One file.
The file containing information about my father.
I stared.
“You had that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised I would find him.”
My throat tightened.
I had spent years believing my father had abandoned me.
He had disappeared when I was seventeen.
My mother told me he was dead.
She refused to discuss him.
Later she died too.
I had built my life around the assumption that I had no family left.
Then Roman showed me something.
A photograph.
My father.
Older.
Alive.
He was standing beside Vincent Moretti.
I sat down.
“Where did you get that?”
“Three years ago.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every time I got close, someone died.”
He sat opposite me.
“I didn't want you involved.”
I laughed bitterly.
“I married you.”
“Yes.”
“And you're telling me you wanted to keep me uninvolved?”
“I wanted you alive.”
The words silenced me.
Then the front door exploded.
Security guards shouted.
Roman pulled me behind him.
Gunfire shattered the windows.
We dropped.
The attackers came fast.
Three.
Then five.
Roman's men returned fire.
I crawled toward the hallway.
One attacker entered the room.
I grabbed a metal lamp and struck him across the face.
He fell.
Roman looked at me.
“That was impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“You shouldn't be smiling.”
“I know.”
Then a voice came through the house.
“Anna!”
I froze.
I knew that voice.
My father.
He stepped into the doorway.
Roman raised his gun.
My father raised both hands.
“Don't shoot.”
I stood.
“Dad?”
His face crumpled.
“My little girl.”
I started crying.
Roman's eyes moved between us.
Then he lowered his weapon.
The attackers had disappeared.
My father looked older than the photograph.
Gray hair.
Deep lines.
A scar through his neck.
He had spent years running.
Now he was standing in my living room.
“What happened?”
He looked at Roman.
“Vincent knows about her.”
Roman stepped forward.
“Who is Vincent?”
My father stared at him.
“Your greatest enemy.”
Roman's jaw tightened.
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
My father looked at me.
“I tried to stop him.”
“Then why did you leave us?”
He swallowed.
“Because he threatened you.”
My anger rose.
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“Yes.”
“You let Mom die believing you were gone.”
“I know.”
“Do you understand what that did to me?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I can never understand it.”
Then he gave me a small envelope.
Inside was the photograph.
Vincent Moretti.
But there was someone else beside him.
My mother.
Alive.
The date was six months after her supposed death.
I couldn't breathe.
“Mom was alive?”
My father nodded.
“She was.”
“Where is she now?”
He looked away.
“She is the reason Vincent wants you.”
I opened the envelope again.
A note was inside.
YOUR MOTHER LEFT YOU SOMETHING.
THE DE LUCA FAMILY HAS IT.
Roman stared at the message.
“My family?”
My father nodded.
“A ledger.”
“A ledger?”
“The Black Ledger.”
Roman's face went pale.
He knew the name.
Everyone in Chicago's underworld knew the name.
It supposedly contained evidence linking powerful families, politicians, and criminal organizations across generations.
Whoever possessed it could destroy half the city's elite.
I looked at Roman.
“You have it?”
“No.”
My father whispered:
“Your mother hid it inside your wedding.”
I froze.
“What does that mean?”
He looked at my ring.
Roman noticed too.
He took my hand.
The wedding ring was simple.
A thin band of gold.
My mother had given it to me before she died.
Or so I believed.
Roman examined it.
Then his face changed.
There was a tiny seam inside the band.
He pressed it.
The ring opened.
Inside was a microchip.
I stared.
My mother's handwriting appeared on a tiny strip of paper.
Anna,
I couldn't protect you forever.
But I knew one man would.
Trust Roman.
I looked at my husband.
He wasn't angry anymore.
He looked shattered.
My father whispered:
“Your mother trusted the one man she was supposed to hate.”
Roman stared at him.
“Why?”
My father answered:
“Because Vincent Moretti isn't the real enemy.”
The room went silent.
“Then who is?”
My father looked at me.
“The person sitting on the city council.”
The next morning, the Chicago news was dominated by one headline.
CITY COUNCILMAN FOUND DEAD IN HIS HOME.
Roman read it silently.
May you like
Then looked at me.
“We're already too late.”
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