Chapter 2 - Adrien Told Me My Entire Childhood Was Built on a Lie—And My Dead Mother Had Once Trusted the Viscari Family
I couldn't speak.
The photograph was too heavy.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
My mother was smiling in it.
Not the tired smile I remembered.
Not the careful expression she wore in the final years before her supposed death.
She looked young.
Happy.
Alive.
And standing beside Giovanni Viscari as if they had known each other forever.
“Why would my mother write that?”
Adrien sat across from me.
“I don't know.”
“You said she knew your father.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Business.”
“That sounds like a lie.”
He looked at me.
“You're beginning to understand why people fear my family.”
I studied him.
“Were they lovers?”
His expression changed.
“No.”
The speed of his answer surprised me.
“You're sure?”
“My father was obsessed with power. My mother was the only woman he respected, and even she barely tolerated him.”
“So what were they?”
“Allies.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“What were they planning?”
“That is what your mother spent the rest of her life running from.”
“My mother died when I was seven.”
Adrien didn't contradict me.
“That's what you were told.”
I swallowed.
“Who told me?”
“Your father?”
“My father disappeared.”
“And the woman who raised you?”
I frowned.
“My aunt.”
“Is she still alive?”
“No.”
“When did she die?”
“Five years ago.”
“Did she ever tell you anything about your mother?”
“No.”
Adrien was silent.
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Someone went to great lengths to erase every trace of Evelyn Hart.”
“My mother's name was Evelyn Vance.”
“Was it?”
I stared.
He slid another folder toward me.
Inside were documents.
Birth certificates.
Marriage records.
Hospital records.
Different names.
Evelyn Hart.
Evelyn Vance.
Evelyn Marlow.
One woman.
Three identities.
My hands shook.
“Why?”
Adrien looked at me.
“Because she was hiding.”
“From whom?”
“My father.”
“Why?”
“She knew something that could destroy him.”
I closed the folder.
“What?”
Adrien didn't answer.
“You keep telling me pieces.”
“Because I don't have the whole story.”
“Then find it.”
“I am.”
He leaned back.
“For the past six months, I've been tracking an internal leak.”
“What kind of leak?”
“Someone has been stealing information from my organization.”
“And they were watching me?”
“Yes.”
“Because they thought I knew the secret?”
“Because they knew you were connected to it.”
I stared at the floor.
“My entire life.”
“Apparently.”
I laughed bitterly.
“I thought the worst thing that happened to me was Marcus.”
Adrien's eyes darkened.
“Marcus is small compared to what's coming.”
“That's comforting.”
“I wasn't trying to comfort you.”
“I know.”
A knock sounded.
Marco entered.
He looked younger than Adrien by several years.
Calm.
Sharp.
Trusted.
“Boss.”
Adrien nodded.
“What?”
“The surveillance team found something.”
Marco placed a tablet on the desk.
A video played.
Marcus was talking to a man in a parking garage.
The man was older.
Gray hair.
Expensive coat.
My stomach dropped.
I knew him.
“Mr. Hale.”
Adrien looked at me.
“You know him?”
“He was my mother's lawyer.”
Silence.
Marco paused the video.
The audio continued.
Marcus said:
“She doesn't know about the vault.”
Hale responded:
“She can't.”
“Then why is she still alive?”
“Because the girl isn't the problem.”
Marcus frowned.
“Then what is?”
Hale looked around.
“The mother.”
The video ended.
I stood.
“My mother is alive.”
Adrien's gaze hardened.
“Yes.”
I felt dizzy.
“Where?”
“We don't know.”
“Then find her.”
Marco nodded.
“We already have a lead.”
They tracked Hale's phone.
He had visited an abandoned church in Brooklyn.
Adrien took me with him.
I objected.
“You should stay at the mansion.”
“No.”
“You're injured.”
“I want answers.”
He looked at me.
“Fine.”
We drove through the city.
The church was abandoned.
Broken windows.
Dust-covered pews.
No electricity.
Adrien's men searched first.
No one.
Then they found a hidden compartment beneath the altar.
Inside was a small metal box.
No keyhole.
No combination.
Just a fingerprint panel.
Adrien looked at me.
“Try.”
“Why me?”
“Because your mother built it.”
I put my hand on it.
The lock opened.
Inside was a letter.
Lena,
If you are reading this, then they found you.
Don't trust the police.
Don't trust the courts.
And above all, do not trust the Vane family.
Adrien read over my shoulder.
“Vane.”
I frowned.
“Who's that?”
“Not someone I wanted to think about.”
“Why?”
“The Vane family has been involved in New York's justice system for generations.”
“Police?”
“And prosecutors.”
“Judges?”
“Yes.”
I remembered what Marcus had said.
Senior attorney.
Connections.
Sealed complaints.
I looked at Adrien.
“Marcus works with them.”
“Yes.”
The letter continued.
Your father tried to save me.
Your uncle betrayed us.
The child must remain hidden.
I stared at the page.
“Your uncle?”
Adrien went still.
“My father had two brothers.”
“One was Giovanni.”
“Yes.”
“And the other?”
“Lucien.”
“What happened to him?”
“He disappeared.”
I looked down.
The letter ended with one sentence.
If Giovanni finds out the girl is his blood, he will kill her.
I couldn't breathe.
“Adrien.”
He looked at me.
“Am I Giovanni's daughter?”
He didn't answer.
That frightened me more than anything.
He slowly said:
“We need a DNA test.”
We went back to the mansion.
Dr. Bell took samples.
Hours later, the result arrived.
99.98% probability.
I was Giovanni Viscari's biological daughter.
I stared at the paper.
Adrien stood across from me.
He didn't move.
“Then what does that make me?”
He inhaled slowly.
“My sister.”
I looked at him.
The man who had carried me.
Protected me.
Stayed beside my bed.
And now I understood why his expression had changed when he first saw the photograph.
Why he had felt a strange recognition.
Why my eyes seemed familiar to him.
I began to cry.
Adrien walked closer.
“You don't owe me anything.”
I nodded through tears.
“But you're family.”
“Yes.”
May you like
He looked at me.
“And whoever comes for you now comes through me.”
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