Chapter 5 - The Box My Father Left Behind
The old apartment door was already open.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not the dust.
Not the abandoned furniture.
Not the fact that a place I thought had been empty for eight years looked like someone had walked out only yesterday.
The door was open.
Waiting.
Roman stood beside me in the dark hallway, his expression unreadable.
But I noticed something.
His hand was clenched.
The same man who could walk into a room full of powerful people without showing fear was standing in front of my father’s old apartment looking like he was preparing for a war.
“Someone was here,” I whispered.
Roman nodded.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
He looked at the door.
“Because I locked it three years ago.”
I turned toward him.
“You had access to my father’s apartment?”
His silence answered before his words did.
“Yes.”
The anger came faster than the fear.
“You kept this place?”
“I protected it.”
“You kept secrets.”
Roman looked at me.
“Yes.”
I hated how easily he admitted it.
No excuses.
No pretending.
Just the truth.
And somehow that made it harder.
“You knew where my father’s things were.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about the box.”
His eyes moved away.
For a second.
Only a second.
But I saw it.
“You knew.”
Roman didn’t answer.
I stepped closer.
“Roman.”
His jaw tightened.
“I knew your father left something.”
“But you didn’t tell me.”
“I was trying to keep you away from it.”
I laughed quietly.
A painful laugh.
“Do you hear yourself?”
He didn’t respond.
“You keep saying you’re protecting me.”
I looked at the apartment.
“But every time you protect me, you hide something from me.”
Roman looked like he wanted to say something.
But he stopped.
Because he knew I was right.
That was the first time I realized something about Roman Rossi.
He wasn’t afraid of danger.
He wasn’t afraid of enemies.
He wasn’t afraid of losing power.
But he was afraid of telling me the truth.
And I didn’t know why.
We entered the apartment slowly.
Everything inside felt frozen in time.
My father’s old leather chair was still near the window.
The bookshelf still had the same crooked row of books I remembered from childhood.
Even the small wooden table near the kitchen remained exactly where it had always been.
I walked forward.
My fingers touched the surface.
Dust covered everything.
But beneath the dust were memories.
My father helping me with homework.
My father making terrible pancakes every Sunday morning.
My father laughing so loudly that our neighbors complained.
For years, I had only remembered his death.
The hospital.
The funeral.
The empty chair at our dinner table.
I forgot there had been a time when he was alive.
When he was just my dad.
“Your father loved this place.”
Roman’s voice came from behind me.
I looked at him.
“You knew him well.”
Roman looked around.
“I did.”
“How?”
He was silent.
Again.
I was beginning to hate that silence.
“He saved my life.”
I froze.
“What?”
Roman looked at the old chair.
“Before I became who I am now, I made mistakes.”
“That’s hard to imagine.”
His eyes moved toward me.
“You should believe it.”
I looked away.
Roman Rossi was a man everyone feared.
But standing in my father’s apartment, he looked different.
Older.
Tired.
Like someone who had spent years carrying a memory he couldn’t put down.
“My father saved you?”
“Yes.”
“From what?”
Roman didn’t answer immediately.
“From becoming exactly what people expected me to become.”
I studied him.
That wasn’t the answer I expected.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your father saw something in me before anyone else did.”
I didn’t know why that hurt.
Maybe because I realized my father had trusted this man.
Maybe because I realized Roman wasn’t just a stranger who entered my life.
He was a piece of my father’s story.
A piece I never knew existed.
“Where is the box?”
Roman looked toward the hallway.
“Your mother had it.”
I followed his gaze.
“How do you know?”
“Because your father told me.”
My heart stopped.
“He spoke to you before he died?”
Roman nodded.
“When?”
“The night before.”
I stepped back.
“The night before?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
His eyes met mine.
“No.”
The honesty made my chest tighten.
“Why?”
Roman looked down.
“Because your father asked me not to.”
I stared.
“My father asked you to hide things from me?”
“No.”
Roman stepped closer.
“He asked me to keep you alive.”
The room became silent.
“What does that mean?”
Before he answered, we heard something.
A sound.
From the bedroom.
A floorboard moving.
Roman immediately turned.
The change was instant.
The businessman disappeared.
The man who had survived dangerous situations appeared.
“Stay behind me.”
I hated that I listened.
But I did.
Roman moved toward the hallway.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He opened the bedroom door.
Empty.
Only an old closet.
Then he noticed something.
The closet floor.
A small gap.
He knelt down and moved the wooden panel.
Inside was a hidden compartment.
My breath caught.
There was a small black box.
My father’s box.
Roman stared at it.
But he didn’t touch it.
“Why aren’t you opening it?”
He looked at me.
“Because it’s yours.”
I walked closer.
My hands trembled as I reached for it.
The box was smaller than I expected.
Old.
Worn.
Like it had been carried many times.
There was no lock.
Only a piece of paper attached to the top.
My name was written on it.
Not printed.
Written.
In my father’s handwriting.
For Sadi. When you are ready.
I couldn’t breathe.
I touched the words.
My father’s handwriting.
Something I thought I would never see again.
I opened the box.
Inside were three things.
A small flash drive.
A photograph.
And an envelope.
The photograph was the first thing I picked up.
My hands shook.
It showed my father.
Roman.
And another person.
A woman.
I didn’t recognize her.
But she was holding something.
A baby.
I looked closer.
On the back of the photograph were six words.
She was never supposed to disappear.
My stomach dropped.
“Who is she?”
Roman looked at the picture.
And his face changed.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
“You know her.”
He didn’t answer.
“Roman.”
His eyes stayed on the photograph.
“She was the reason your father started investigating everything.”
“Who is she?”
He finally looked at me.
And before he could answer, the apartment lights suddenly turned on.
Someone was standing in the doorway.
My mother.
I dropped the photograph.
“Mom?”
She looked at the box.
Then at Roman.
Then at me.
Her face was pale.
“You found it.”
The words made my blood run cold.
Because she didn’t look surprised.
She looked afraid.
“You knew this was here?”
She didn’t answer.
“Mom.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I was hoping you would never open that box.”
I stepped toward her.
“What is inside?”
My mother looked at Roman.
And whispered:
“He promised me he would never tell you.”
Roman’s expression hardened.
“Linda.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“It’s time.”
My heart started racing.
“Time for what?”
My mother looked at me.
Then at the envelope inside the box.
“The truth about your father.”
I reached for the envelope.
But before my fingers touched it, my mother said:
“Sadi…”
I stopped.
“What?”
Her voice broke.
“The woman in that picture…”
May you like
She looked at me.
“She’s your real mother.”
