Chapter 4 - The First Bullet
The sound came before the fear.
A violent crack.
Glass exploded across the room.
Liam pulled me down.
Alessandro moved faster.
He grabbed my shoulder and dragged me behind the kitchen wall as another bullet tore through the apartment.
I hit the floor.
My hands flew to my stomach.
“Are you hurt?”
Alessandro was crouched beside me.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
His eyes searched my face.
Then his hand briefly covered mine.
“Good.”
Liam crawled toward the kitchen.
“Who the hell is shooting at us?”
Alessandro looked toward the window.
“Someone who knows we're here.”
“That narrows it down.”
“Liam.”
“What?”
“Stay with her.”
Alessandro reached inside his coat.
Liam stared.
“You carry a gun?”
“Yes.”
“I thought billionaires had lawyers.”
“We do.”
Another bullet struck the wall.
Alessandro raised his weapon.
He didn't fire.
Instead, he waited.
Three seconds.
Four.
Then silence.
Liam whispered:
“Is it over?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because professionals don't fire twice unless they want you to know where they are.”
I stared at Alessandro.
“How do you know that?”
He didn't answer.
There were pieces of this man I still didn't understand.
Pieces that made me wonder whether the newspaper descriptions of him as merely a billionaire were deliberately incomplete.
A phone vibrated.
Alessandro looked at the screen.
“It's Matteo.”
He answered.
“Talk.”
A voice came through.
“Two shooters. Black sedan. They left southbound.”
“Anyone injured?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Alessandro hung up.
Liam looked at him.
“Who is Matteo?”
“My security chief.”
“Of course you have one.”
Alessandro ignored the sarcasm.
He looked at me.
“We're leaving.”
“No.”
“Elizabeth—”
“No.”
I stood carefully.
“I've spent six years running from people like this. I'm not getting into some armored vehicle and disappearing into your world.”
His expression hardened.
“You think this is about my world?”
“Yes.”
“It isn't.”
“Then what is it?”
He stepped closer.
“This is about yours.”
I stared at him.
“Your father found something.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why are you so sure?”
“Because Stefano has killed for less.”
The name made my stomach turn.
“Your uncle.”
“Yes.”
“What does he want?”
Alessandro's eyes met mine.
“You.”
I froze.
“Me?”
“Not you.”
His gaze lowered to my stomach.
“The baby.”
Liam stepped forward.
“Then we go to the police.”
Alessandro shook his head.
“We already have people inside the police department.”
Liam frowned.
“What?”
“Stefano has spent decades buying influence.”
I stared at Alessandro.
“And you?”
He looked directly at me.
“My family has spent decades buying everything.”
The honesty was brutal.
“But I am trying to end that.”
I didn't know whether to believe him.
Then something on the floor caught my attention.
A tiny piece of glass.
Under it was a folded sheet of paper.
I picked it up.
There was a single sentence written in black ink.
ASK ALessandro WHAT HAPPENED TO MARCO.
I looked at him.
His face changed.
“You knew someone would ask that.”
“No.”
“Then why did you react like that?”
“Because Marco is the reason your father died.”
The room went silent.
My fingers went numb.
“What?”
Alessandro looked away.
“My father and your father discovered Marco was alive.”
“When?”
“Twenty-seven years ago.”
“And Stefano?”
“He wanted Marco dead.”
“Why?”
“Because Marco was the rightful heir.”
I stared at him.
“The rightful heir to what?”
“The Vitali empire.”
I felt a coldness spread through me.
“But you're the heir.”
“I am now.”
“And Marco?”
“Was born first.”
I looked at the photograph again.
My father's handwriting.
MARCO IS ALIVE.
Then I noticed something I had missed before.
A small handwritten note beneath his name.
Trust Isabella.
My mother.
I couldn't breathe.
“Why did my father write my mother's name?”
Alessandro's eyes narrowed.
“Who is Isabella?”
“My mother.”
He looked at the photograph.
Then at me.
“Your mother's name was Isabella Harper?”
“Yes.”
He went completely still.
“What?”
“My mother.”
He whispered something in Italian.
I didn't understand it.
“What?”
He looked at me.
His face had gone pale.
“That's impossible.”
“What is?”
“My mother had a sister named Isabella.”
I stared.
“No.”
“She disappeared twenty-seven years ago.”
“My mother wasn't missing.”
“I know.”
He took the photograph from my hand.
He stared at it for several seconds.
Then he looked at me.
“Elizabeth…”
“What?”
“Your mother may have been a Vitali.”
The words struck harder than the gunshots.
“No.”
Alessandro nodded slowly.
“And if she was…”
He looked toward the destroyed window.
“…then you aren't just connected to my family.”
My heartbeat thundered.
“You may be part of it.”
I stepped backward.
“No.”
“Elizabeth.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“My mother hated the Vitalis.”
“Maybe she had a reason.”
I looked at the photograph.
At Marco.
At my mother.
At my father.
Everything I had believed about my family was beginning to collapse.
Then Alessandro's phone rang again.
He answered.
“Matteo?”
Silence.
His expression changed.
“What?”
I watched him.
“Say that again.”
Another pause.
Then:
“Where?”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“Stay where you are.”
He hung up.
“What happened?”
He didn't answer.
“Alessandro.”
He looked at me.
“They found the black SUV.”
“And?”
“It belongs to Stefano.”
My heart sank.
“Did they catch him?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
Alessandro's voice dropped.
“They found Liam's car.”
I turned.
Liam was standing behind us.
His face was pale.
“What?”
Alessandro continued.
“There's blood inside.”
Liam froze.
“That isn't my car.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“Yes.”
Then Liam's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A voice spoke.
“Tell Elizabeth her father left something for her.”
Liam's expression changed.
“What?”
The caller laughed.
“Something Stefano has been searching for for twenty-seven years.”
The call ended.
I looked at Alessandro.
“What did they leave?”
His answer was almost a whisper.
“We don't know.”
Then Liam looked down.
Something had been slipped beneath the apartment door.
A small cream-colored envelope.
My name was written across it.
Not Emma.
Not Elizabeth Harper.
Only:
ELIZABETH VITALI.
I couldn't move.
Alessandro slowly walked toward it.
And for the first time since I had met him, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.
“Don't open that.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because whatever is inside…”
He stopped.
His gaze remained fixed on my name.
“…my family has been killing people to keep it hidden.”
May you like
I reached for the envelope.
And opened it.
