Chapter 2 - The Adviser Who Knew My Mother's Name|
Nobody moved.
The women who had laughed at me moments earlier stood frozen beside the champagne fountain. Several guards had drawn their weapons, but none dared point them at Mr. Alden.
He had served the Moretti family for forty-two years.
He had managed Dante's father's affairs, arranged funerals, negotiated business disputes, and stood beside Dante during the burial of the old patriarch.
If anyone in the mansion possessed enough authority to betray the family, it was Alden.
Dante placed himself between the gun and me.
"Put it down," he repeated.
Alden's smile disappeared.
"You still believe everyone who bows to you is loyal."
"I believe you have exactly three seconds to decide whether you want to leave this room alive."
"Threats. Always threats. Your father spoke the same way."
Dante's jaw tightened.
"Do not speak about my father."
"Why? Because you never learned what he did?"
The accusation struck harder than the weapon in Alden's hand.
Dante glanced toward the guards.
"Secure every entrance. Nobody leaves the mansion."
The command triggered immediate movement. Heavy doors slammed shut. Guards rushed toward the hallways, while the guests protested and demanded explanations.
I remained on the platform, staring at the birthmark Alden had recognized.
My mother had called it a rose.
She had told me it was a family mark inherited from a woman who had loved flowers.
Nothing more.
When I was eight, she had made me promise never to show it to strangers.
When I was twelve, she had burned a stack of old photographs in our kitchen sink.
When I was seventeen, she had died after a sudden illness that the hospital could never fully explain.
I had never known my father.
Now a man with a gun was calling me a Moretti.
"Get her away from the mechanism," Dante ordered.
Two guards approached, but I stepped down before they could touch me.
"Don't grab me."
They stopped.
Dante studied me for a moment.
Then, surprisingly, he nodded.
"Nobody touches her without her permission."
Alden laughed bitterly.
"How noble. You should have shown such concern twenty-five years ago."
Dante moved toward him.
"What happened twenty-five years ago?"
"Your father discovered that his own brother had a daughter. A child who carried the Black Rose mark. A child whose existence threatened the succession."
"My father had no brother."
"That is what he told you."
The ballroom seemed to tilt beneath me again.
Alden continued.
"Your grandfather's firstborn son was named Gabriel Moretti. He was brilliant, compassionate, and loved by the family. But he refused to inherit an empire built on violence. He married a woman from a fishing village and disappeared from New York."
"My grandfather had one son," Dante said.
"Your grandfather had two."
I shook my head.
"My mother never mentioned a Gabriel."
Alden's eyes shifted toward me.
"Your mother was Elena Moretti before she became Elena Bennett."
The name struck me like a slap.
My mother had always said Bennett was the only family name she had ever known.
"You're lying."
"Am I?"
He reached into his jacket and withdrew an old photograph.
It showed two young men standing outside a stone mansion. One had Dante's eyes. The other had my mother's smile.
Alden dropped the photograph onto the platform.
"That is Gabriel Moretti. Your father."
My knees weakened.
Dante caught the edge of the platform, but he did not touch me.
"My father was a fisherman," I whispered.
"No," Alden replied. "Your father was the rightful heir to the Moretti family."
Dante stared at the photograph as though the paper had become a weapon.
"Why did my father tell me Gabriel was dead?"
"Because he wanted everything."
Alden's gun lowered slightly.
"And because your grandfather made a terrible mistake when he chose power over blood."
A loud alarm suddenly sounded beneath the platform.
Red light flooded the ballroom.
Alden's expression changed.
"What's happening?" Dante demanded.
The old man looked at me.
"The succession mechanism has recognized its rightful heir. It has begun the final sequence."
"Shut it down."
"I can't."
Dante grabbed Alden's collar.
"Then tell me who can."
Alden's eyes moved toward the floor beneath my feet.
"Only Clara."
A concealed screen appeared in the platform, displaying a single sentence:
HEIR AUTHENTICATED. ARCHIVE RELEASE IN SIXTY MINUTES.
My mother's face appeared beneath the words.
She was younger than I remembered her, sitting in front of a dark wooden wall.
And she was crying.
"Clara," the recording said, "if you are seeing this, it means they finally found you."
She looked directly into the camera.
"Your father didn't die in a fishing accident."
May you like
The screen flickered.
"He was murdered by the man who raised Dante Moretti."
