Chapter 4 - The Truth Hidden Behind My Name
The door opened slowly.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
For a few seconds, the only sound inside the room was the rain outside and the quiet breathing of everyone standing there.
I stared at the entrance.
Waiting.
Terrified.
Because deep inside, I already knew.
The person standing on the other side of that door was connected to everything.
My missing memories.
My father's death.
My mother's disappearance.
The name I was never supposed to know.
Then the door opened completely.
A man stepped inside.
He was older.
Around sixty.
His hair was silver, but his posture was strong.
He wore a dark coat and carried himself with the confidence of someone who had never needed permission to enter any room.
My mother immediately became pale.
"No..."
The man looked at her.
Then at Vincent.
And finally...
At me.
His eyes stopped on my face.
For a moment, he looked almost emotional.
Almost relieved.
"Clara."
I hated how everyone said my name like they were remembering someone I wasn't.
I stepped back.
"Who are you?"
The man smiled slightly.
A cold smile.
"The question is not who I am."
He looked around the room.
"The question is why they kept you away from me."
Vincent moved forward.
"You shouldn't be here."
The man's expression changed.
"And you should have protected her better."
The tension between them was immediate.
They weren't strangers.
They had history.
Dangerous history.
I looked at Vincent.
"You know him."
Vincent didn't answer.
That was enough.
I turned toward my mother.
"Everyone keeps secrets from me."
My voice shook.
"Everyone knows who I am except me."
My mother looked heartbroken.
"Clara, please..."
"No."
I wiped my eyes.
"I spent eight years thinking I was nobody."
The room became silent.
"I worked at a diner. I struggled to pay rent. I thought my biggest problem was making enough money to survive."
I looked at Vincent.
"But apparently my whole life was a lie."
Nobody disagreed.
That hurt the most.
Because silence was confirmation.
The older man walked closer.
"My name is Richard Vale."
The name meant nothing to me.
But Vincent reacted.
His jaw tightened.
I noticed.
"Why does Vincent know you?"
Richard smiled.
"Because Vincent and I used to work together."
"Work together doing what?"
Nobody answered.
Then my mother whispered:
"Protecting your father."
I turned toward her.
"My father?"
Richard looked at the photograph still sitting on the table.
"Your father discovered something he was never supposed to find."
"What?"
Richard didn't respond.
Instead, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a small envelope.
He placed it on the table.
"This belonged to him."
I stared at it.
There was a name written on the front.
My name.
Not Clara.
The other name.
The name I had never heard before.
My hands became cold.
"What does that say?"
My mother closed her eyes.
Vincent looked away.
Richard answered.
"Elena."
I froze.
"Elena?"
He nodded.
"That was your real name."
The room felt like it was spinning.
A name.
One word.
But somehow it felt heavier than everything else.
I touched the envelope.
"Why did my father change it?"
Richard looked at me.
"Because someone wanted Elena Vale dead."
My breathing stopped.
"Someone wanted me dead?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
Richard's face became serious.
"The same person who started the fire."
A thousand thoughts crossed my mind.
"But the police said it was an accident."
Richard laughed quietly.
"The police were told what they needed to believe."
Vincent stepped closer.
"Richard."
But he ignored him.
"You deserve the truth."
My mother looked afraid.
"Not all of it."
Richard turned toward her.
"After eight years, she deserves everything."
The argument between them confused me.
"What are you hiding?"
Nobody answered.
I grabbed the envelope.
"If this is my life, I decide when I learn the truth."
I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
The handwriting was familiar.
I didn't know why.
But the moment I saw it, my heart reacted.
Like my body remembered something my mind couldn't.
I read the first line.
My dear Elena, if you are reading this, then they failed to erase you.
My hands started shaking.
The letter continued.
Do not trust anyone who tells you the fire was an accident.
I looked up.
Everyone was watching me.
The next sentence made my blood run cold.
The person who betrayed our family is someone you loved.
I stopped reading.
Someone I loved?
My mother?
Vincent?
Richard?
Someone from my past?
I couldn't breathe.
"Who?"
My voice was barely a whisper.
"Who betrayed us?"
Richard looked at my mother.
And my mother looked away.
That was when I understood.
She knew.
My own mother knew.
"What aren't you telling me?"
She stepped closer.
"I was trying to protect you."
"From what?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"From the truth about your father."
I stared at her.
"My father was the victim."
"No."
The word came out quietly.
But it destroyed everything.
My mother shook her head.
"Your father wasn't only a victim."
I waited.
She looked at the letter in my hand.
"He was investigating people inside his own organization."
"What organization?"
Nobody spoke.
Then Vincent finally answered.
"The Moretti family."
I turned toward him.
"You?"
His expression was painful.
"Your father was my friend."
"And you never told me?"
"I couldn't."
"Why?"
Vincent looked at the floor.
"Because the person who ordered your father's death..."
He paused.
"...was someone close to him."
The room went silent again.
My entire life felt like a puzzle where every piece was being replaced.
I looked at Richard.
"You know who did it."
He didn't deny it.
"Yes."
"Tell me."
Richard looked toward the window.
"It's not that simple."
"Why?"
"Because if I say the name..."
He stopped.
And for the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.
"Then that person will know you're alive."
A cold feeling moved through my body.
Before I could respond, Vincent's phone suddenly rang.
Everyone froze.
He looked at the screen.
His face changed instantly.
"What is it?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
He showed the phone to Richard.
A message appeared.
One sentence.
I found Elena.
My mother covered her mouth.
Richard stepped back.
"No..."
Vincent looked toward the door.
Then toward me.
"Clara, we have to leave."
I didn't move.
"Why?"
Vincent's voice became serious.
"Because whoever sent that message is already inside the building."
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Coming closer.
Then a voice whispered my real name.
"Elena..."
May you like
The hallway light turned on.
And the person standing there was the one person I never expected to see again...
