Chapter 9 - The Choice Of The Mafia King
The man standing outside the house smiled.
I hated that smile.
Not because it was threatening.
Because it was familiar.
It was the same kind of smile my father used when he thought he had already won.
A smile from someone who believed everyone else was just a piece on a board.
Rafael stood beside me.
His entire body changed.
The calm disappeared.
The businessman disappeared.
The feared man returned.
“Vincent.”
The man looked at Rafael.
“It’s been a long time.”
I looked between them.
Vincent.
The name meant nothing to me.
But the way Rafael said it meant everything.
“You know him.”
Rafael didn’t look away.
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
Before Rafael could answer, Vincent stepped closer.
“I’m the person who knows the truth about your family.”
My stomach tightened.
Rafael’s voice became cold.
“Leave.”
Vincent laughed softly.
“You still protect her.”
Rafael didn’t respond.
Vincent looked at me.
“Do you know why your father chose you?”
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t want to.
Because I was afraid the answer would hurt.
Vincent smiled.
“Because Serena was never the valuable daughter.”
The words felt like a slap.
Rafael immediately stepped forward.
“Enough.”
But Vincent continued.
“Your father spent years convincing everyone that Serena was special.”
He looked at me.
“But you were always the important one.”
My heart raced.
“What are you talking about?”
Vincent reached into his coat.
He pulled out a small folder.
Then placed it on the table near the door.
“Open it.”
Nobody moved.
Rafael looked at the folder.
“Don’t.”
I turned toward him.
“Why?”
“Because he wants you angry.”
Vincent smiled.
“Of course he doesn’t want you to see it.”
I looked at Rafael.
The doubt returned.
The same doubt that had followed me since the beginning.
Everyone had a version of the truth.
Everyone had something to hide.
I picked up the folder.
Inside were documents.
Birth records.
Company files.
Old photographs.
My hands became cold.
The first page was my birth certificate.
But something was wrong.
The name listed under my mother was different.
Not the name I knew.
A different woman.
A woman from the photograph.
The woman I thought was a stranger.
My real mother.
I looked up.
“What is this?”
Nobody answered.
I turned the page.
There was another document.
A private agreement.
Signed by my father.
And another name.
Vincent.
My eyes moved over the words.
My father had made a deal.
A deal involving me.
My future.
My marriage.
My entire life.
The room started spinning.
“He planned everything.”
My voice was barely audible.
Vincent nodded.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before you were old enough to understand.”
I looked at Rafael.
“Did you know?”
His expression broke slightly.
“Not everything.”
“But something.”
“Yes.”
I stepped back.
That answer hurt more than a lie.
Because it meant I had been right.
He always knew more.
Vincent watched quietly.
“You see, Clara, Rafael Moretti isn’t the hero you think he is.”
Rafael’s eyes became dangerous.
“Careful.”
Vincent ignored him.
“He helped your father because he needed information.”
I looked at Rafael.
“Is that true?”
A long silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
Rafael looked down.
“Because I was trying to find someone.”
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“Your mother.”
The answer confused me.
“You knew she was missing?”
“Yes.”
“Before Serena?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“How?”
Rafael took a breath.
“Because your mother came to me before she disappeared.”
The room went silent.
My mother.
She had gone to him.
“Why?”
“She knew your father was dangerous.”
“And she trusted you?”
“Yes.”
I laughed quietly.
Not because it was funny.
Because my entire life felt like a story written by strangers.
“My mother trusted you.”
“Yes.”
“Serena trusted you.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you were only hiding things to protect me?”
Rafael looked at me.
“No.”
The answer surprised me.
“I was hiding things because I was afraid.”
Afraid.
The word sounded strange coming from him.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
His eyes met mine.
“Of becoming the same kind of person who destroyed your family.”
Nobody spoke.
Vincent looked annoyed.
Because Rafael had finally said something he didn’t want him to say.
“You always were too emotional, Rafael.”
The room changed.
Rafael looked at him.
“I’m not like you.”
Vincent smiled.
“You’re right.”
A pause.
“That’s why you’ll lose.”
Before anyone could react, the lights went out.
Again.
But this time, it was different.
The darkness came with movement.
A door slammed.
Someone shouted.
A gunshot echoed.
I felt Rafael grab my hand.
“Down.”
We dropped behind the table.
Guards rushed inside.
The house became chaos.
Vincent disappeared.
Of course he did.
People like him never stayed when things became dangerous.
When the lights returned, Rafael immediately searched the room.
Then he stopped.
My blood froze.
“What?”
He looked at the table.
The folder was gone.
But something else remained.
A small envelope.
My name was written on it.
Clara.
I picked it up.
Rafael stopped me.
“Wait.”
“What?”
His expression was serious.
“This might be a trap.”
I looked at the envelope.
“Everything is a trap.”
That was the truth.
Every door.
Every secret.
Every person.
But I opened it anyway.
Inside was a letter.
Not from Vincent.
Not from my father.
From Serena.
My hands shook.
Clara,
If you are reading this, then Vincent found you.
I stopped.
Rafael looked at the letter.
I continued.
That means he told you part of the truth.
Not all of it.
My heart raced.
Because of course.
There was always more.
Serena’s handwriting became messier.
The reason Dad chose you was not because you were weaker than me.
It was because you were the only person he could never control.
I looked up.
Rafael watched me silently.
The letter continued.
You were always the strongest person in our family.
You just never knew it.
My eyes filled.
Then came the final paragraph.
Clara, there is one person who knows why Dad was truly afraid of you.
Someone who has been protecting the secret since the beginning.
Someone who has been watching over you your entire life.
My breathing stopped.
I turned the page.
Nothing.
The letter ended there.
A sound came from outside.
A car door closing.
Everyone turned.
A guard looked through the window.
His face changed.
“Boss.”
Rafael looked over.
“What?”
The guard stepped back.
“There is someone outside.”
“Who?”
The guard swallowed.
Then whispered:
“The person who raised Clara.”
I froze.
Because my father was already dead silent inside the house.
And the person standing outside was not Edward Bennett.
The front door slowly opened.
And a woman stepped inside.
A woman I had only seen in one photograph.
My mother’s old picture.
The woman who was supposed to be gone.
She looked directly at me.
May you like
And said:
“Clara, we need to talk about the night you were born.”
