Chapter 6 - The Woman My Father Protected
The message stayed on the wall.
ASK YOUR MOTHER.
Three words.
Written in red.
A threat.
A warning.
Or a final instruction from someone who knew exactly how much my father had hidden from me.
I stared at it until my eyes hurt.
Then I looked at Noah.
He wasn't looking at the message.
He was looking at me.
"You knew."
My voice was quiet.
But everyone heard it.
Noah didn't pretend anymore.
Didn't avoid the question.
Didn't create another excuse.
"Yes."
The honesty hurt more than another lie would have.
I stepped away.
"You knew my mother was involved."
"Yes."
"You knew my father wasn't just a tailor."
"Yes."
"You knew there were secrets inside my shop."
"Yes."
Each answer felt like another door closing.
I looked around the ruined shop.
The broken glass.
The torn fabric.
My father's old furniture damaged by someone who wanted whatever he had hidden.
"This was my life."
Noah's expression changed.
"I know."
"No."
I shook my head.
"You don't."
I pointed at the destruction.
"You walk into places like this and leave. You have money. Security. People protecting you."
My voice cracked.
"I have this."
I looked at the old sewing machines.
"My father's hands built this place."
Noah remained silent.
Because he knew.
For the first time, he understood that this wasn't just a mystery to solve.
It was my entire life being torn apart.
Paulie moved near the broken window.
"Someone was watching the shop."
Noah didn't look away from me.
"Who?"
Paulie checked outside.
"Professional."
That single word changed the atmosphere.
Because professional meant this wasn't random.
This wasn't someone angry.
This was planned.
Noah picked up the damaged box.
"The flash drive wasn't the target."
I looked at him.
"What?"
He showed me the empty compartment.
"The drive was easy to take."
"Then what was the target?"
His eyes moved to the photograph.
The photograph that had disappeared.
"My father."
I frowned.
"The picture?"
Noah nodded.
"Someone wanted that picture."
"Why?"
He didn't answer.
Again.
I almost laughed.
"Of course."
I turned away.
"Another secret."
"Lyra."
"No."
I grabbed my coat.
"I'm going to my mother's house."
Noah immediately reacted.
"No."
I stopped.
There it was again.
That tone.
The one that made people obey.
Except I wasn't one of them.
"You don't tell me where I can go."
"Lyra, listen."
"No."
I faced him.
"You lost that privilege when you decided to know everything about my family except me."
His jaw tightened.
"I am trying to keep you alive."
"And I'm trying to understand why everyone thinks they have the right to control my life."
The words hit him.
I saw it.
For a second, the powerful Noah Moretti disappeared.
There was only a man who didn't know how to protect someone without controlling the situation.
"I never wanted you involved."
I looked at him.
"But I was always involved."
Silence.
A painful one.
Then Noah reached into his coat and pulled out a small card.
He placed it on the table.
An address.
"Your mother's old apartment."
I stared at him.
"You know where she lived?"
"Yes."
"You've been there?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
I noticed.
"You wanted to."
Noah looked away.
That was enough.
I took the card.
"I'm going alone."
"No."
I looked at him.
"You really don't understand the word no."
"I understand it."
"Then accept it."
His eyes darkened.
"Not when your life is at risk."
I stepped closer.
"Then what are you going to do?"
He didn't answer.
Because we both knew.
Noah Moretti didn't ask permission.
He protected.
Even when nobody wanted his protection.
I left before he could stop me.
My mother's apartment was twenty minutes away.
I had been there only once.
When I was eight.
I remembered almost nothing.
A hallway.
A blue door.
A woman who hugged me.
Then nothing.
My father never spoke about that place again.
The building looked abandoned.
The paint was peeling.
The lights in the hallway flickered.
I stood outside apartment 4B.
My hand hovered over the door.
I didn't know what I expected to find.
Answers.
Proof.
A connection to the woman who gave me life.
Instead, I found a locked door.
I knocked.
Nothing.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
I tried the handle.
It opened.
My heart dropped.
The apartment wasn't empty.
Someone had been here.
Recently.
The air smelled like old paper and dust.
But underneath it...
perfume.
A woman's perfume.
My mother's perfume.
I didn't know how I knew.
I just did.
I walked inside.
The furniture was covered with sheets.
The walls were bare.
But on the table near the window...
was a photograph.
I picked it up.
My hands froze.
It was my mother.
Holding me as a baby.
My father stood beside her.
And behind them...
was Noah.
Not Noah as he was now.
A teenager.
Seventeen.
Maybe eighteen.
Standing beside my family.
I dropped the photograph.
"No."
The sound came from behind me.
I turned.
Noah stood in the doorway.
My anger returned instantly.
"You followed me."
He didn't deny it.
"I told you I was coming."
"No."
His eyes moved to the photograph.
Then back to me.
"I told you I was trying to protect you."
I held up the picture.
"Why were you there?"
He said nothing.
"Why were you in my family photos?"
Still nothing.
The silence was unbearable.
Then Noah walked inside.
Slowly.
Like he was entering a place filled with memories he had spent years avoiding.
"My father brought me here."
"Why?"
"Because your mother saved my life."
I stared.
Again.
Another person who saved him.
Another secret my family carried.
"What happened?"
Noah looked around the apartment.
"When I was seventeen, I discovered what my father was doing."
"What he was really doing."
His voice became quieter.
"I tried to leave."
I listened.
"My father found out."
A pause.
"He sent people after me."
My chest tightened.
"And your mother?"
"She found me first."
The apartment felt colder.
"She hid me here."
"With my father?"
"No."
Noah looked at me.
"With your mother."
I looked at the photograph again.
My mother.
The woman I barely remembered.
The woman who apparently knew more about Noah Moretti than I ever did.
"Why didn't she tell me?"
Noah's expression softened.
"Because she wanted you to have a normal childhood."
I laughed bitterly.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
I looked at him.
"But nobody asked what I wanted."
Before he could answer, something moved in the hallway.
Both of us stopped.
Noah immediately became alert.
The old apartment changed in one second.
The man disappeared.
The protector returned.
He motioned for silence.
A sound came from outside.
A key turning.
My blood went cold.
Someone was opening the door.
Noah moved in front of me.
His hand reached inside his jacket.
The lock clicked.
The door slowly opened.
And a woman's voice whispered from the hallway.
"Lyra?"
Noah froze.
Because he recognized the voice.
May you like
Then he said the one name I never expected to hear.
"Isabella."
