Chapter 7-The Woman Who Raised Me Was The One Who Destroyed Me
I used to believe betrayal had a sound.
A scream.
A gunshot.
A door slamming shut.
Something dramatic enough that you could recognize the exact moment your world changed.
I was wrong.
The worst betrayals were silent.
They arrived in the form of memories.
A hand brushing your hair when you were a child.
A voice telling you everything would be okay.
A person sitting beside your hospital bed after you lost your entire family.
A person you trusted so completely that you never thought to question their intentions.
My aunt had been that person.
For fifteen years, she had been the woman who saved me.
And now…
she might have been the reason I needed saving.
I sat in Dante's command room staring at the screen.
The silver snake symbol remained there.
A symbol that suddenly felt like poison.
I couldn't stop thinking about all the little things I had ignored.
The way my aunt always changed the subject whenever I asked about my parents.
The way she hated when I looked through old family photographs.
The way she became nervous whenever someone mentioned Chicago's old families.
The way she always told me one thing.
"Your past is dead, Elena."
At the time, I thought she was trying to protect me.
Now I wondered…
was she trying to protect herself?
“You haven't slept.”
Dante's voice pulled me back.
I looked up.
He stood in front of me holding a cup of coffee.
Not a glass of expensive whiskey.
Not some grand gesture.
Just coffee.
Something normal.
Something human.
“I can't.”
He placed the cup in front of me.
“You should try.”
I almost smiled.
“Is that your professional advice?”
His expression remained serious.
“No.”
A pause.
“It's my personal request.”
The answer caught me off guard.
Because Dante Moretti didn't ask.
People asked him.
I looked down at the coffee.
“Why do you care?”
The question came out quieter than I intended.
He didn't answer immediately.
And again, I noticed something about him.
Dante always thought before speaking.
Like words were weapons.
Like he refused to waste them.
“Because I know what it feels like to find out your entire life was built on lies.”
I looked at him.
“You do?”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“My father told me my whole life that he was protecting our family.”
A pause.
“He wasn't.”
I waited.
“He was protecting his power.”
The room became quiet.
“I learned too late that the people closest to you are the ones who can hurt you the most.”
Those words stayed with me.
Because he understood.
Not the same story.
Not the same pain.
But the same wound.
Before I could respond, one of Dante's men entered.
“Boss.”
Dante turned.
“We found her.”
My heart stopped.
“My aunt?”
He nodded.
“Where?”
The man's expression changed.
“She wasn't hiding.”
That scared me more.
“What does that mean?”
“She wants to meet.”
Dante's eyes narrowed.
“She contacted us?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
The man placed a phone on the table.
A message was displayed.
My hands went cold.
Because it wasn't addressed to Dante.
It was addressed to me.
ELENA, YOU DESERVE TO KNOW THE TRUTH. COME ALONE.
My chest tightened.
Alone.
The same word Nolan used whenever he wanted control.
The same word dangerous people used when they wanted someone vulnerable.
Dante picked up the phone.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I need to go.”
His eyes immediately met mine.
“No.”
“She raised me.”
“She betrayed you.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know enough.”
His voice wasn't angry.
It was protective.
And somehow that made me angry.
“You don't get to decide everything for me.”
Silence.
The room froze.
Everyone expected Dante to react.
Everyone expected anger.
Instead…
he nodded.
“You're right.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“You're right.”
He looked away.
“I spent years making decisions for other people because I believed it kept them alive.”
A pause.
“But I forgot something.”
“What?”
His eyes returned to mine.
“Being protected isn't the same as being free.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
Dante Moretti admitting he was wrong.
That was something I never thought I would see.
“So what happens now?”
He looked at the message.
“We meet her.”
I frowned.
“You just said no.”
“I said you don't go alone.”
A pause.
“You won't.”
I wanted to argue.
But deep down, I knew he was right.
Not because I was weak.
Because I had spent fifteen years believing I knew the truth.
And I didn't.
Three hours later, we arrived at an abandoned church outside Chicago.
The kind of place that looked forgotten by time.
Broken windows.
Cracked stone walls.
No witnesses.
No cameras.
A perfect place for secrets.
Dante stood beside me.
His men remained hidden.
I noticed something.
He wasn't walking in front of me.
He wasn't forcing me behind him.
He was walking beside me.
Always beside me.
The church doors opened.
And there she was.
My aunt.
Victoria De Luca.
The woman who raised me.
The woman who held me after the worst night of my life.
The woman who taught me to fear the Moretti name.
She looked older.
Tired.
But alive.
When she saw me…
her eyes filled with tears.
“Elena.”
My throat tightened.
I wanted to run to her.
I wanted to hate her.
I wanted to demand answers.
I wanted to go back to a time when everything was simple.
Instead, I stood still.
“Why?”
One word.
But it carried fifteen years.
Victoria looked down.
“I knew this day would come.”
Dante stepped forward.
“No.”
His voice was cold.
“You knew this day would come because you planned for it.”
Victoria looked at him.
And something changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Dante Moretti.”
A bitter smile appeared.
“Your father was right about you.”
Dante's expression hardened.
“What does that mean?”
Victoria looked between us.
Then whispered:
“Your father and my brother weren't enemies.”
Silence.
“They were allies.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“The war between Moretti and De Luca was a lie.”
Dante froze.
“What are you saying?”
Victoria's eyes filled with pain.
“I am saying the person who destroyed both our families…”
A pause.
“Was the man who made both families powerful.”
The church became silent.
“Who?”
Victoria looked directly at Dante.
“Your father.”
Dante's face changed.
For the first time since I met him…
he looked lost.
“My father died.”
Victoria nodded.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“But before he died…”
She looked at me.
“He ordered the murder of your family.”
I felt like the air disappeared.
Dante stepped back.
Impossible.
“That isn't possible.”
Victoria's voice broke.
“I saw the orders.”
Silence.
“I saw his signature.”
My heart raced.
Because if she was telling the truth…
then everything was wrong.
The enemies.
The revenge.
The hatred.
All of it.
Dante stared at her.
“Where is the proof?”
Victoria reached into her coat.
Slowly.
Carefully.
She pulled out a small black envelope.
“This.”
She held it out.
“The evidence your families died for.”
Dante reached for it.
But before his fingers touched the envelope…
a gunshot echoed.
Victoria's body jerked.
Her eyes widened.
Blood spread across her dress.
“NO!”
I screamed.
Dante caught her before she fell.
Chaos erupted.
Hidden shooters.
Broken windows.
Bullets flying through the church.
I dropped to the floor.
Dante pulled me behind a stone pillar.
And as gunfire filled the room…
Victoria grabbed my hand.
Her final words barely escaped her lips.
“Elena…”
I leaned closer.
“Your mother…”
She coughed.
“Your mother didn't die that night.”
My entire body froze.
“What?”
Victoria's eyes met mine.
“She is alive.”
Another gunshot.
Dante looked at me.
And I saw the same shock in his eyes.
Victoria's fingers weakened.
“She has been waiting for you…”
A final breath.
“Find her…”
Then her hand went still.
The church became silent.
Not peaceful.
Empty.
I stared at the woman who raised me.
The woman who lied to me.
The woman who died trying to tell me the truth.
And then I realized something.
My family's story wasn't over.
It had only been rewritten.
Because the person I mourned for fifteen years…
May you like
was still alive.
My mother.
