Chapter 10 — The Safe House
The address came from an old map.
Not a GPS location.
Not a digital file.
A hand-drawn map my father had hidden inside the back cover of an old crime novel.
The same kind Alessandro had told me he loved.
I held the book in my lap as the SUV moved through the rain.
Alessandro sat beside me.
Marco was in the vehicle behind us.
Liam had insisted on coming.
I hadn't argued.
For the first time, I didn't want to be alone.
“Are you afraid?” Alessandro asked.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“So am I.”
I looked at him.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Of Stefano?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Of losing you.”
I didn't know what to say.
So I looked out the window.
The city passed in streaks of light.
After several minutes, I spoke.
“You should have told me the truth.”
“I didn't know it.”
“You knew enough.”
“I knew my family had secrets.”
“You knew my name.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was connected to your family.”
“Yes.”
“And you still slept with me.”
His face tightened.
“I didn't know you were pregnant.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
He looked at me.
“No.”
The answer was quiet.
“I didn't know what would happen.”
“Neither did I.”
“I regret that you were pulled into this.”
“I don't regret you.”
He stared at me.
For a moment, the tension between us softened.
Then the driver stopped.
We had arrived.
The safe house was an abandoned farmhouse outside Chicago.
No neighbors.
No lights.
No sign anyone had lived there recently.
Alessandro opened the door.
“Stay behind me.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I'm starting to hate that sentence.”
A faint smile appeared.
“I'm starting to realize you never listen.”
“Correct.”
We entered.
Dust covered everything.
But the fireplace had been used recently.
Alessandro noticed it.
“So someone has been here.”
Marco entered behind us.
He looked around.
“She was here.”
“How do you know?”
“Your mother always kept the fire burning.”
I walked toward the fireplace.
A small wooden box sat beneath it.
My name was carved into the lid.
ELIZABETH.
I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
My mother's.
My fingers shook.
I unfolded it.
My little girl,
I stopped.
Tears filled my eyes.
If you have found this, then I failed to stay away from you.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
Then continued.
I know you believe I died. I let you believe it because the alternative was worse.
My breathing became uneven.
Stefano wasn't the only person hunting us. Someone inside the Vitali family helped him. Someone your father trusted more than anyone.
Alessandro looked at me.
“Keep reading.”
I did.
Do not trust the person who tells you Marco is the rightful heir.
Marco froze.
I looked at him.
He stared at the letter.
The truth is more complicated.
My heart pounded.
There was never supposed to be one heir.
I looked at Alessandro.
Then Marco.
The letter continued.
Your grandfather created a three-part succession. One part belonged to Marco. One belonged to Gabriel. One belonged to you.
Gabriel's name.
My name.
Three pieces.
Three children.
Three heirs.
I whispered:
“That's why Stefano wanted us separated.”
“Yes,” Alessandro said.
My mother had written more.
But there is one final condition. The three heirs must be alive when the trust is opened.
I stared at the sentence.
“What happens if one dies?”
Alessandro's face hardened.
“The entire trust transfers.”
“To whom?”
I read the next line.
To Stefano.
Silence.
I felt sick.
“He doesn't need all three.”
“No,” Marco said.
“He only needs one of us dead.”
Alessandro's jaw tightened.
“And that's why he has been hunting you.”
I folded the letter.
Then I noticed something underneath it.
A second photograph.
Three babies.
Three hospital bracelets.
Marco.
Gabriel.
Elizabeth.
But something was wrong.
The bracelets were not labeled with their names.
They were labeled with numbers.
1.
2.
3.
I turned the photograph over.
Another sentence.
The order was changed.
I looked at Alessandro.
“What does that mean?”
He took the photograph.
His eyes narrowed.
“Someone switched the identities.”
“Why?”
“Because one of the babies wasn't who the family thought.”
Marco stepped closer.
“What are you saying?”
Alessandro pointed to the photograph.
“Maybe Marco wasn't the first.”
Gabriel stared at him.
“Then who was?”
A noise came from outside.
A branch snapping.
Alessandro raised his weapon.
Everyone became silent.
Another sound.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Approaching the house.
I backed toward the wall.
Alessandro whispered:
“Everyone stay still.”
The front door opened.
A woman stepped inside.
She was wearing a dark coat.
Her hair was gray.
Her face was older than the photograph.
But I knew her instantly.
My knees nearly collapsed.
“Mom?”
The woman froze.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Elizabeth.”
I couldn't move.
Twenty years of grief.
Twenty years of believing she was gone.
And suddenly she was standing ten feet away.
Alive.
I took one step.
Then another.
She covered her mouth.
“My little girl.”
I ran toward her.
She caught me.
Her arms wrapped around me.
I buried my face against her shoulder.
She smelled like lavender.
Just like I remembered.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I know.”
“You left me.”
“I had to.”
“You let me believe you died.”
“I had no choice.”
I pulled back.
“There is always a choice.”
She looked at my stomach.
Her face changed.
“You're pregnant.”
I nodded.
She touched my cheek.
“Then he found you.”
“Who?”
Her eyes shifted toward Alessandro.
He stood motionless.
She stared at him.
“You're Alessandro.”
“Yes.”
Her expression became cold.
“I told your father never to let you near my daughter.”
Alessandro's face hardened.
“My father is dead.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you blaming me?”
“Because you're carrying his blood.”
I stepped between them.
“Stop.”
My mother looked at me.
“Elizabeth, you don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
She looked toward the windows.
“We don't have much time.”
“Why?”
“Because Stefano knows I'm here.”
A car engine sounded outside.
My mother's face went pale.
“They're here.”
Alessandro moved toward the door.
“How many?”
She whispered:
“Everyone.”
The farmhouse lights suddenly went out.
Then headlights appeared through the windows.
Dozens of them.
My mother grabbed my hand.
“There's a tunnel beneath the kitchen.”
Alessandro turned.
“A tunnel?”
She nodded.
“Your father built it.”
A gunshot shattered the front window.
My mother pulled me toward the kitchen.
“Run.”
I looked back at Alessandro.
He was already firing toward the doorway.
Marco and Gabriel moved with him.
Liam grabbed my arm.
We disappeared through the hidden passage.
The last thing I heard before the door closed was Stefano's voice outside.
“Elizabeth!”
His voice echoed through the farmhouse.
“You can run from me…”
A pause.
“…but you can't run from your blood.”
The tunnel door slammed shut.
And for the first time, I realized my mother wasn't running from Stefano anymore.
She was running from someone much closer.
May you like
Someone she knew personally.
Someone who had been waiting twenty-five years for me to come home.
