Chapter 6 - The Man Who Wanted Me Back
“Yes.”
Nobody breathed.
Lorenzo grabbed the intercom.
“Where are you?”
“Where I’ve been for seven years.”
“Where?”
“Inside.”
The speakers died.
Security searched the estate.
Nothing.
Then my mother called.
She was home.
Safe.
The photograph had been taken by someone following her, but nobody approached.
Ethan wanted panic.
He got it.
Just not the result he expected.
Lorenzo wanted to send me away.
I refused.
Again.
“If I leave now, whoever is doing this wins.”
“If you stay, you could die.”
“If I go, my mother could.”
He had no answer.
That afternoon Ethan appeared at the front gate.
Alone.
Unarmed.
Or so he claimed.
Lorenzo wanted him removed.
I wanted answers.
We met in the glass conservatory with Marco nearby.
Ethan looked exactly as I remembered.
Perfect hair.
Perfect coat.
Perfect expression of concern.
“Amelia.”
“Don’t.”
His eyes flicked toward Lorenzo.
“You have no idea who he is.”
“Funny. You said the same thing about every friend I had.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That sentence.”
He frowned.
“You always say it right before telling me what I’m allowed to do.”
Lorenzo stood silently behind me.
Ethan noticed.
“You think he’s better?”
“This isn’t about him.”
“It became about him the second you came here.”
I almost laughed.
“No, Ethan. This became about my father the second I found your signature in his ledger.”
His face changed.
Tiny.
But enough.
“You knew him.”
Ethan denied it.
Then I placed the ledger photocopy on the table.
His signature.
His mother’s company.
Payments.
Dates.
Ethan looked trapped.
Finally he whispered, “Your father wasn’t innocent.”
“Explain.”
“He moved money.”
“For whom?”
Ethan looked toward Lorenzo.
“For the Ducas.”
Lorenzo’s voice remained calm.
“Which Duca?”
Ethan smiled.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?”
Then he said something unexpected.
“My mother didn’t kill Thomas.”
“Who did?”
“She never told me.”
“But she knew?”
“Yes.”
“Is she alive?”
Ethan hesitated.
That hesitation answered everything.
Margaret Cole had supposedly died four years earlier.
Cancer.
No funeral.
Private cremation.
I suddenly remembered how strange Ethan had been that week.
He disappeared for days.
When he returned, he refused to discuss her.
“She’s alive,” I said.
Ethan looked at me.
“Amelia—”
“She’s alive.”
Then a bullet shattered the conservatory window.
Lorenzo hit me before the sound registered.
We went down together.
Marco drew his weapon.
Guards moved outside.
Ethan screamed.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
The bullet had struck him.
Not me.
Lorenzo covered my body with his.
Glass rained around us.
Another shot never came.
The shooter disappeared.
Ethan survived.
Barely.
At the hospital, he finally broke.
“My mother runs Crown.”
The room went silent.
“She’s been running it since Carlo died.”
“Where is she?” Lorenzo demanded.
Ethan shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Then he looked at me.
“But she knows you have the ledger.”
His phone vibrated on the hospital table.
A message appeared.
MOTHER.
Lorenzo looked at Ethan.
May you like
Ethan looked at me.
Then the phone began ringing...
