Chapter 4 - The Man Who Was Supposed To Be Dead
The little girl pointed behind me and whispered:
“That’s him.”
When I turned around, I saw the man standing in the rain holding an old photograph.
But the impossible part was not his face.
It was the fact that I had watched him die six years ago.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Not me.
Not Mateo.
Not the men who had arrived in the black vehicles.
Even the rain seemed quieter.
The man standing at the entrance of the alley looked older than I remembered.
His hair was grayer.
His face carried more scars.
His body looked heavier, like he had spent years carrying something nobody else could see.
But there was no mistake.
I knew that face.
I knew those eyes.
Because I had seen them for almost half of my life.
“Victor.”
The name left my mouth before I could stop it.
The man lowered his head slightly.
Not a greeting.
Not an apology.
Something closer to acceptance.
“You still remember me.”
My hand immediately moved toward my weapon.
Mateo stepped forward.
“Boss, stay behind me.”
I ignored him.
Because this was not an enemy standing in front of me.
This was someone worse.
Someone who had been family.
Victor Morelli.
My father’s closest friend.
My mentor.
The man who taught me how to survive in a world where trust was a luxury.
The man who stood beside me when my father died.
The man who held my shoulder and promised me:
“I’ll protect you like he would.”
Six years ago, Victor was killed during a warehouse attack.
At least, that was what everyone told me.
I attended the funeral.
I watched the coffin lowered into the ground.
I watched hundreds of people mourn a man I thought I would never see again.
But now he was standing in front of me.
Alive.
“Explain.”
My voice was cold.
Victor looked at Sophia.
The moment he saw her, his expression changed.
Not fear.
Pain.
“You found her.”
The words made my blood run cold.
“You knew about her?”
Victor looked back at me.
“I knew she existed.”
The alley suddenly felt smaller.
“You knew Elena had a daughter?”
“I knew Elena had a daughter.”
The way he said it bothered me.
Like he was choosing every word carefully.
Like there were things he refused to say.
I stepped closer.
“And you never told me.”
Victor looked away.
“That was the point.”
The anger came instantly.
“You’re telling me you knew I had a child and you stayed silent?”
“I was keeping her alive.”
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was unbelievable.
“You disappeared.”
Victor looked at the ground.
“Yes.”
“You let me bury you.”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe Elena abandoned me.”
His eyes lifted.
And for the first time, I saw something I never expected.
Guilt.
“She wanted you to hate her.”
I froze.
“What?”
Victor took a breath.
“Because hatred was safer than love.”
I stared at him.
“Stop talking in riddles.”
“I’m not.”
His voice became heavier.
“Your father knew this day would come.”
My expression changed.
“My father?”
Victor nodded.
“He knew the truth about Elena. He knew about Sophia. He knew someone inside your own circle was watching everything.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
Someone inside my circle.
Again.
Another person.
Another secret.
Another piece of my life that had been hidden.
“Who?”
Victor did not answer.
That alone told me enough.
He knew.
And he was afraid.
I looked at him carefully.
The same man who had walked into gunfire without hesitation.
The same man who never showed weakness.
Was afraid.
“Who betrayed me?”
Victor looked at Sophia.
Then at the locket.
Then back at me.
“Not who.”
He paused.
“Everyone.”
The answer made my anger disappear.
Not because I believed him.
Because I realized something.
This was bigger than Elena disappearing.
Bigger than Sophia.
Bigger than one person trying to hurt me.
Someone had spent years building a false reality around me.
And I had been living inside it.
I turned to Sophia.
“Your father.”
She looked up.
“What about him?”
“What was his name?”
Her fingers touched the locket.
“He told me never to say it unless I found you.”
“Why?”
She swallowed.
“Because if they heard his name, they would know you knew.”
The words were too mature.
Too careful.
A child should not know how to hide information.
Someone had trained her to survive.
And I hated that.
I hated whoever forced an eight-year-old to understand fear.
I looked at Victor.
“Where is Elena?”
His face changed.
“I don’t know.”
I stepped forward.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“After everything?”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised me.
Because Victor was not defending himself.
He was accepting my anger.
That meant something.
“You were protecting her.”
It was not a question.
Victor remained silent.
“You were protecting Elena.”
“Yes.”
“From who?”
Victor looked toward the street.
At the black cars.
At the men waiting.
Then he said quietly:
“From the same person who sent them tonight.”
A car engine suddenly started.
One of the vehicles at the end of the street moved.
Mateo immediately reacted.
“Boss.”
I raised my hand.
Everyone stopped.
The car window slowly lowered.
A man inside looked toward us.
Then he smiled.
Not a friendly smile.
A message.
He lifted his phone.
Seconds later, mine vibrated.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
One picture.
My blood went cold.
It was Elena.
Alive.
Sitting in a dark room.
Her hands tied.
And beside her stood a man.
A man whose face was partially hidden.
But I knew the suit.
I knew the ring.
I knew the symbol.
The same symbol carved into the locket.
Underneath the image was one sentence.
“Bring the girl back, or Elena disappears forever.”
Sophia saw my expression.
“Is my mom hurt?”
I locked the phone.
“No.”
It was a lie.
But I needed her to believe it.
Victor stepped closer.
“You can’t go after them.”
I looked at him.
“Try stopping me.”
“They want you angry.”
“Good.”
“They want you reckless.”
I stared at the photograph.
“They already took twelve years from me.”
My voice became quieter.
“They’re not taking another minute.”
Victor looked at me.
For a second, I saw the old mentor who trained me.
Then I saw something else.
A man who knew the truth.
A man who knew exactly how dangerous this was.
“You don’t understand what you’re walking into.”
“Then explain.”
Victor opened his mouth.
But stopped.
Because his eyes moved past me.
Toward Sophia.
His face changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
“What?”
I turned.
Victor was staring at the locket around Sophia’s neck.
“No.”
His voice was barely audible.
“What?”
He stepped backward.
“That locket…”
I grabbed his arm.
“Finish that sentence.”
Victor looked at me.
His face had lost all color.
“Alessandro.”
“What?”
“That locket was never Elena’s.”
The rain continued falling.
I released his arm slowly.
“What are you saying?”
Victor looked at Sophia.
Then at me.
“The woman you loved didn’t give you that locket.”
A cold feeling moved through my chest.
“Then who did?”
Victor whispered:
“Your mother.”
The alley went silent.
Because I had never known my mother was connected to Elena.
My mother died when I was a child.
At least, that was what I had been told.
Then Victor reached into his coat.
He pulled out an old envelope.
The paper was damaged.
The name written on the front was faded.
But I recognized the handwriting.
The same handwriting from the photograph.
The same handwriting from the letter.
He handed it to me.
“This was meant to be opened only if Sophia found you.”
I looked down.
My hands tightened around the envelope.
Because underneath my name were four words.
Words that made me realize my entire family history had been a lie.
May you like
“From your mother, Alessandro.”
And before I could open it, the lights in the alley suddenly went out.
