Chapter 5 - The Letter That Changed Everything
The envelope was heavier than it should have been.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
My fingers trembled as I pulled the contents onto the kitchen counter.
There was a photograph.
An old cassette tape.
And a handwritten letter.
My name was written across the top.
Elizabeth.
Not Emma.
Not the name I had used for six years.
Elizabeth.
My father's handwriting.
I knew it immediately.
My knees nearly gave out.
“No…”
Alessandro reached for the letter.
I pulled it away.
“Don't.”
His hand stopped.
“It's your father.”
“I know.”
“And if Stefano sent it—”
“He didn't.”
I stared at the handwriting.
“This is my father's.”
Alessandro's expression changed.
“How can you be certain?”
“Because I watched him write it.”
My voice cracked.
“He wrote everything with a fountain pen. He pressed harder on the final letter of my name.”
I traced the ink with my fingertip.
Then I opened the letter.
The first sentence made my chest tighten.
My little girl, if you're reading this, then I failed to protect you.
I couldn't continue.
Alessandro moved closer.
“Let me.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I forced myself to read.
I need you to understand something before you believe anything the Vitali family tells you. Your mother never betrayed me. She never abandoned you. Everything she did was to keep you alive.
My vision blurred.
I swallowed.
The man called Stefano Vitali is not the only person you should fear.
I stopped.
Alessandro's eyes sharpened.
“Continue.”
I read the next line.
The greatest danger is the person who claims to love the Vitali family most.
Alessandro went completely still.
I looked at him.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
His voice was unusually quiet.
“Because my father trusted someone completely.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
I looked at the photograph.
It showed my mother.
She was younger.
Beautiful.
Standing beside a man.
Marco.
But there was another person in the picture.
An older woman.
She wore a pearl necklace.
I recognized her immediately.
Alessandro's grandmother.
I looked at him.
“Why was my mother with your grandmother?”
He took the photograph.
His expression darkened.
“That was taken before Marco disappeared.”
“Then my mother knew him.”
“Yes.”
“She was helping him.”
“Probably.”
“Why?”
Alessandro looked at me.
“Because Marco was her brother.”
I shook my head.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
“No.”
I looked down at the photograph again.
“My mother was Isabella Harper.”
“Yes.”
“She was married to my father.”
“Yes.”
“She hated the Vitalis.”
“Maybe she hated what they had become.”
The room fell silent.
Then I noticed something written on the back of the photograph.
A date.
September 17, 1999.
And beneath it:
THE NIGHT THE HEIR DISAPPEARED.
I looked at Alessandro.
“What happened that night?”
“My family said Marco was killed in a car accident.”
“Did they find a body?”
“No.”
“Then how could they say he was dead?”
“They didn't.”
He looked away.
“They said his body burned beyond recognition.”
My stomach turned.
“And you believed that?”
“I was four years old.”
The words stopped me.
He was still carrying that memory.
A child who had watched his family destroy itself before he was old enough to understand why.
I opened the cassette tape.
There was an old portable player in the storage box.
I inserted it.
Static filled the room.
Then my father's voice.
“Isabella, you need to leave.”
My mother answered.
“I'm not leaving without him.”
“You don't understand what Stefano is capable of.”
“I know exactly what he's capable of.”
A man's voice appeared in the background.
Marco.
“Daniel, she's right.”
I covered my mouth.
Alessandro stepped closer.
His face had gone pale.
Then my father's voice returned.
“If the Vitalis discover the truth about the baby, they'll never stop looking.”
I froze.
The baby.
Alessandro looked at me.
“What baby?”
The recording continued.
My mother's voice was shaking.
“She can't stay here.”
My father answered:
“Then we'll send her away.”
I stopped breathing.
“Her?”
Alessandro looked at me.
The recording crackled.
My father's voice became clearer.
“Elizabeth is only six years old. She has no idea who she is.”
My knees weakened.
I grabbed the counter.
Alessandro stared at me.
“Elizabeth…”
I whispered:
“They knew.”
The recording continued.
“Her bloodline makes her dangerous.”
My mother's voice:
“She is a child.”
“She is also the last person who can prove Marco is alive.”
The tape stopped.
Silence.
I couldn't move.
Alessandro looked at me.
“Your father knew Marco was alive.”
“And my mother helped him disappear.”
“Yes.”
“And I was the proof.”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
Alessandro picked up the letter.
“Because you are connected to the inheritance.”
“What inheritance?”
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at the final page of the letter.
I turned it over.
There was one sentence.
When Elizabeth turns twenty-five, the trust becomes hers.
My heart stopped.
“Trust?”
Alessandro's face changed.
“Your father created a trust.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“What does it contain?”
“I don't know.”
“Then find out.”
He looked at me.
“I will.”
A noise came from the hallway.
Liam.
He had been silent for several minutes.
Now he stood near the door.
“There's something you both need to see.”
He held up his phone.
A bank alert was open.
A transfer had just been made.
One million dollars.
Into an account belonging to me.
I stared.
“What?”
Liam scrolled.
“The transfer came from a dormant trust.”
“What trust?”
He looked at Alessandro.
“Vitali.”
My blood turned cold.
Alessandro's phone rang.
He answered.
A woman's voice spoke.
“Mr. Vitali.”
“Who is this?”
“You don't know me.”
“What do you want?”
“I want Elizabeth to survive.”
Alessandro's eyes narrowed.
“Where are you?”
“Ask your grandmother.”
The call ended.
I looked at Alessandro.
“Your grandmother?”
He didn't answer.
Instead, he grabbed his coat.
“We're going to the Vitali estate.”
I shook my head.
“I'm not going anywhere near that family.”
“You already are.”
He looked at the envelope.
“Whether you want to admit it or not.”
Then he looked at my stomach.
“And now our child is part of it.”
I hated that he was right.
I hated even more that I trusted him enough to follow.
But as we left the apartment, I noticed something.
The black sedan was back.
Parked across the street.
May you like
And this time, someone was standing beside it.
Watching us.
