Chapter 5 - THE BROTHER WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEADThe blonde woman vanished before Adrian’s men reached the gate.
No car.
No footprints beyond the wet road.
No identification.
Just the photograph.
Adrian spent the next six hours turning the Moretti estate into a fortress.
Nobody entered.
Nobody left.
Claire hated it.
By midnight, she was standing at the window in her guest room watching armed men patrol the gardens.
Sophie slept beside her.
Claire had considered leaving immediately.
But every road out of the estate was being watched by Adrian’s security.
And somewhere beyond those gates was a person who apparently knew his sons had been vulnerable the previous night.
Until Adrian understood who was targeting him, Claire reluctantly accepted that remaining inside the mansion might actually be safer.
A knock came at one in the morning.
Claire opened the door.
Adrian stood there.
No jacket.
Sleeves rolled to his elbows.
He looked exhausted.
“I need to speak with you.”
Claire glanced at Sophie.
“Hallway.”
They stepped outside.
Adrian handed Claire the photograph.
She studied Elena.
Beautiful.
Laughing.
Standing outside what appeared to be a small café.
“What makes you believe this was taken after the fire?”
Adrian pointed toward the background.
A movie poster.
Claire recognized the title.
Released two years earlier.
Two years after Elena vanished.
Claire looked up.
“She was alive.”
“At least then.”
“Why would your brother know?”
Adrian leaned against the wall.
For the first time, he didn’t look powerful.
He looked tired.
“Luca and Elena were close.”
Claire said nothing.
“Not romantically.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You thought it.”
“I actually didn’t.”
“You have an expressive face.”
“You have a suspicious personality.”
He accepted that.
“Luca managed security for the family. The night Elena disappeared, he was responsible for the Lake George property.”
“And?”
“He claimed he never saw her.”
“You didn’t believe him.”
“No.”
“What happened to Luca?”
“Car bomb.”
Claire stared.
Adrian said it the way another man might say heart attack.
Matter-of-fact.
But grief lived beneath it.
“Who killed him?”
“We never proved it.”
“That seems to happen frequently in your family.”
His eyes sharpened.
Claire sighed.
“Sorry.”
“No. You’re right.”
She handed back the photograph.
“You should tell the boys.”
“No.”
“Adrian.”
“I will not give them hope based on one photograph from an unknown person.”
“They deserve—”
“They deserve stability.”
“And lying creates stability?”
“I’m not lying.”
“You’re withholding.”
“There’s a difference.”
“To adults.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’re their nanny.”
“And you keep saying that whenever I tell you something you don’t want to hear.”
He stepped closer.
“You have been here three days.”
“Long enough to know Noah thinks everyone abandons him, Caleb makes jokes whenever he’s frightened, and Miles thinks remembering his mother hurts you.”
Adrian went still.
Claire regretted the last sentence.
But she didn’t take it back.
“He told you that?”
“No.”
“Then how—”
“Children don’t always use words.”
Adrian looked toward the boys’ wing.
“They were babies when she disappeared.”
“They remember more than you think.”
His voice lowered.
“So do I.”
That stopped Claire.
Adrian looked down at the photograph.
“Elena hated the world I was born into.”
“The criminal world?”
He gave her a tired glance.
“You don’t give up.”
“No.”
“She wanted me out.”
“Were you willing?”
“I thought I was.”
“What changed?”
“My father died. Luca wasn’t ready. There were people depending on us.”
“People or business?”
“Both.”
Claire crossed her arms.
“And Elena?”
“She gave me an ultimatum.”
Claire knew what came next.
“You chose the business.”
Adrian’s silence answered.
“She left that night?”
“She said she was going to Lake George.”
“To clear her head?”
“Yes.”
“And then the fire.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked at him.
“Did you think she started it?”
“I thought someone killed her.”
“And now?”
Adrian stared at Elena’s smiling face.
“Now I wonder whether she wanted me to think she was dead.”
A tiny voice came from the bedroom.
“Mom?”
Claire spun.
Sophie was sitting upright.
“Sweetheart?”
“I heard something.”
Claire entered.
Then stopped.
The window was open.
She had locked it.
Adrian saw it too.
His weapon appeared so quickly Claire barely registered the movement.
“Take Sophie.”
A curtain shifted.
Adrian crossed the room.
Nobody.
Then Claire saw something resting on the windowsill.
An orange.
Fresh.
Perfect.
Miles’s words returned.
Our mom smelled like oranges.
Claire’s skin prickled.
Adrian picked it up.
A small piece of paper was pinned through the peel.
He unfolded it.
Claire watched his face.
“What does it say?”
Adrian handed it to her.
She never abandoned them. You did.
Claire looked toward the open window.
“Someone climbed up here?”
“Apparently.”
“Your security is terrible.”
Adrian almost laughed despite himself.
Then footsteps thundered in the hallway.
A guard appeared.
“Sir, we caught someone near the north wall.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Bring him downstairs.”
Claire grabbed his arm.
“No.”
He looked at her hand.
She released him.
“You’re staying here.”
“No, I mean don’t do whatever you’re thinking.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
“I’ve watched movies.”
“This isn’t a movie.”
“Exactly.”
He walked out.
Claire waited thirty seconds.
Then followed.
She left Sophie with Rosa and went downstairs.
The prisoner was young.
Maybe twenty-five.
Bruised face.
Hands tied behind a chair.
Adrian stood before him.
“Who sent you?”
The man spat blood.
“Go to hell.”
Adrian didn’t react.
Claire remained at the doorway.
The young man noticed her.
Then smiled.
“That her?”
Adrian froze.
Claire’s stomach dropped.
“The nanny?”
Nobody moved.
The prisoner laughed.
“Boss said you’d keep her.”
Adrian grabbed him by the collar.
“What boss?”
The man smiled wider.
“The one who knows exactly how this ends.”
“Name.”
“You already know.”
Adrian’s grip tightened.
The prisoner looked directly at Claire.
“He said Number Seven changes everything.”
Claire felt cold.
“How does he know what the boys call me?”
The prisoner’s smile disappeared.
Then he looked toward the ceiling.
And bit down.
Adrian shouted.
Too late.
The man convulsed.
Poison.
Security rushed forward.
Claire stumbled backward.
Within seconds it was over.
The prisoner slumped in the chair.
Dead.
Claire stared.
Adrian swore under his breath.
Then one of his guards noticed something tattooed behind the dead man’s ear.
A small symbol.
A crown split by a vertical line.
Adrian’s face drained.
“What?” Claire whispered.
He didn’t answer.
“Adrian.”
He finally looked at her.
“That mark belonged to my brother’s crew.”
“Luca?”
“Yes.”
“But Luca is dead.”
Adrian stared at the tattoo.
“That’s what I was told.”
The next morning, Adrian ordered Luca Moretti’s grave opened.
And inside the coffin, they found no body.
Only a burned photograph of Adrian, Elena, and the triplets.
May you like
Across Adrian’s face someone had carved one word.
LIAR.
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