Chapter 5 - The Lie Inside the Bloodline
Alessandro replayed the recording three times.
Vittorio Moretti was never Sophie’s father.
Each time the words sounded more dangerous.
Sophie looked at Étienne.
“You lied.”
“No.”
“You just told me Vittorio was my father.”
“Because Claire believed he was.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
“Then whose daughter am I?”
“I don’t know.”
Sophie laughed bitterly.
“Wonderful.”
Everything she learned seemed to erase the truth before it.
Diplomat.
Spy.
Dead.
Alive.
Father.
Not father.
Sister.
Not sister.
She looked at Alessandro.
He seemed almost disappointed.
The emotion surprised her.
“You wanted it to be true.”
He met her eyes.
“That you were my sister?”
“Yes.”
He glanced away.
“It would have explained something.”
“What?”
“Why your father risked everything for me.”
Étienne answered.
“That had nothing to do with blood.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“Then why?”
“Because you were nineteen.”
“That never stopped you from sacrificing others.”
Étienne absorbed the accusation.
“No.”
Alessandro stepped closer.
“You left men behind in Marseille.”
“I did.”
“You exposed informants.”
“I did.”
“But you saved me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Étienne looked at Sophie.
“Because Claire asked me to.”
Alessandro went still.
“My mother?”
“No.”
Sophie noticed something.
“You said Claire barely knew Alessandro.”
Étienne shook his head.
“I never said that.”
Alessandro looked confused.
“She knew me?”
“Better than you realized.”
“How?”
Étienne leaned against the table.
“Your father brought you to Paris several times.”
“I remember.”
“Claire watched you.”
“Why?”
“Because Vittorio worried his enemies would use you.”
Alessandro’s expression shifted.
“Claire was my protection?”
“For almost two years.”
Sophie stared at him.
“My mother protected you.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you say you barely knew her?”
“I didn’t.”
Alessandro corrected himself.
“I said I barely remembered her.”
Sophie realized the difference.
Alessandro’s childhood image of Claire was probably incomplete.
A woman in galleries.
A friend of his father.
Someone who appeared and disappeared.
Étienne continued.
“When Claire discovered the Circle, she decided Vittorio’s children should not pay for his choices.”
“Children?” Alessandro asked.
Étienne went silent.
Sophie noticed.
“So there was another child.”
Alessandro turned.
“What?”
Étienne opened another drawer.
He removed an old photograph.
Vittorio Moretti stood outside a villa.
Beside him was a young woman.
Not Claire.
A little boy held Vittorio’s hand.
Alessandro.
And behind them, partially hidden, stood a teenage girl.
Alessandro took the picture.
“Who is she?”
“Your sister.”
“I didn’t have a sister.”
“You did.”
“What happened?”
Étienne looked toward Sophie.
“She disappeared the year Sophie was born.”
The room fell silent.
Sophie understood first.
“No.”
Étienne nodded slowly.
“Her name was Isabella Moretti.”
Alessandro looked from the photograph to Sophie.
“No.”
“Isabella was seventeen.”
“That’s impossible.”
“She was sent away after becoming pregnant.”
Sophie felt the air leave her lungs.
“You think Isabella was my mother.”
“I think Evelyn believes it.”
Alessandro stared at Étienne with horror.
“That would make Sophie my niece.”
“Yes.”
Sophie pressed her hands against the table.
“Where is Isabella?”
“Nobody knows.”
“Dead?”
“Possibly.”
“Stop saying possibly!”
Her voice echoed.
“I have spent one night learning every person in my childhood may have lied to me. I need one answer that isn’t possibly.”
Étienne’s expression softened.
“I don’t have one.”
Sophie turned away.
Then a voice came through the cellar speaker.
“Perhaps I do.”
Everyone looked up.
Evelyn.
Her voice came from the restaurant system.
“Hello, Étienne.”
He froze.
“You should really update the wiring in this place.”
Alessandro signaled Matteo.
The bodyguard moved toward the stairs.
Evelyn continued.
“Don’t bother sending anyone upstairs. Camilla and I are already leaving.”
Alessandro stepped toward the microphone.
“Camilla works for you?”
“Camilla works for Camilla.”
A laugh.
“She simply appreciates profitable opportunities.”
Sophie approached the microphone.
“Why did you bring me here?”
Silence.
Then Evelyn’s voice changed.
“Sophie.”
The warmth from the coffee shop returned.
It made Sophie’s skin crawl.
“My poor girl.”
“Don’t.”
“I always wondered if you would inherit Claire’s stubbornness.”
“You killed her?”
Étienne stepped forward.
“Sophie—”
Evelyn answered first.
“No.”
Sophie gripped the microphone.
“Who did?”
“Ask Étienne.”
Everyone turned.
Étienne’s face became pale.
Sophie whispered, “What does she mean?”
Evelyn laughed softly.
“Oh, Étienne. Seventeen years hiding and you still can’t tell her.”
Sophie looked at him.
“Tell me what?”
Étienne’s eyes filled with grief.
“Claire was poisoned.”
“I know.”
“I found the poison.”
“You said that.”
“I also found the antidote.”
Sophie stopped.
“What?”
“It was experimental.”
Her heart began pounding.
“I don’t understand.”
“I gave it to her.”
“And?”
Étienne could barely speak.
“It killed her.”
Silence.
Sophie stared.
“No.”
“The poison was slow. She had days, maybe weeks.”
“You gave her something.”
“Yes.”
“And she died.”
“Yes.”
Sophie stepped backward.
Étienne moved toward her.
She raised a hand.
“Don’t touch me.”
Evelyn’s voice came through the speaker.
“Now you understand.”
“You manipulated him,” Alessandro said.
“I sent him the antidote.”
Étienne looked toward the speaker.
“You told me it would save her.”
“I told you what you wanted to hear.”
Sophie’s eyes filled.
“So you killed her.”
Evelyn laughed.
“Étienne gave the injection.”
“You poisoned her first!”
“Did I?”
Étienne froze.
Sophie looked at him.
“What?”
Evelyn continued.
“You still never found who placed the original poison, did you?”
“No.”
“Because you were looking outside your home.”
Sophie felt sick.
“Who was inside?”
Silence.
Then Evelyn said:
“Isabella.”
Alessandro’s face tightened.
“My sister?”
“She wasn’t missing.”
Étienne grabbed the microphone.
“Where is she?”
Evelyn’s voice became almost cheerful.
“Closer than you think.”
The restaurant lights suddenly went dark.
Emergency lights flickered.
Matteo shouted from the stairs.
“Boss!”
A crash echoed above.
Then footsteps.
Alessandro pulled Sophie behind him.
Étienne reached into a drawer.
Sophie saw a small metal key.
“What’s that?”
“The seventh lock.”
“You had it?”
“I had half.”
He handed it to her.
“You’re the other half.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your necklace.”
Sophie touched the small silver pendant she had worn since childhood.
A gift from Claire.
Étienne pointed.
“Open it.”
Sophie snapped the pendant apart.
Inside was a tiny piece of metal shaped like a crescent.
It fit perfectly against Étienne’s key.
A complete key.
Footsteps approached the cellar.
Alessandro looked toward the stairs.
“We need to move.”
Sophie inserted the key into the final hidden lock.
A panel clicked open.
Inside was not a ledger.
Not paper.
Not money.
A cassette tape.
Étienne stared.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Sophie picked it up.
On the label was one handwritten sentence.
FOR SOPHIE — WHEN EVERYONE HAS LIED.
Then another voice came from the cellar stairs.
A woman’s voice.
Older.
Shaking.
“Please don’t play that.”
Alessandro turned.
The woman stepping into the light had silver hair.
She was not Evelyn.
Sophie had never seen her before.
But Alessandro dropped the photograph of Isabella Moretti from his hand.
Because the woman standing in front of them was the same girl.
Forty years older.
Isabella Moretti looked directly at Sophie.
May you like
Tears filled her eyes.
“My daughter.”
