Chapter 12 - The Father Who Never Died
The photograph slipped from my fingers.
It landed face-up on the concrete floor.
Vincent Moretti stared back at me from twenty-eight years ago.
Alive.
Young.
Standing beside my mother.
Holding a hand against her shoulder as though he belonged there.
Dominic bent down and picked up the photograph.
His eyes moved across it once.
Then again.
“This is impossible.”
Victor said nothing.
Maria was crying.
I looked at her.
“You knew.”
She shook her head.
“I knew Vincent survived.”
“You told us he was dead.”
“I believed he was.”
“That’s not what you just said.”
Maria closed her eyes.
“I knew he survived the first attempt.”
My heart hammered.
“First attempt?”
She nodded.
“Michael wanted him dead.”
Dominic looked at the photograph.
“Then who was buried?”
Victor answered.
“Someone Michael had prepared.”
“A substitute.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the photograph.
My mother was smiling.
Not the tired smile I remembered from the final years of her life.
A real smile.
A young woman in love.
And Vincent was looking at her as if nothing in the world could touch them.
I whispered:
“My father was alive.”
Victor nodded.
“For many years.”
“Where is he?”
Nobody answered.
“Where is my father?”
Maria finally looked at me.
“He disappeared.”
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
The same year Dominic found me.
The same year I found him bleeding in that alley.
My breathing became shallow.
“Why?”
“Because he knew Michael had found Clara.”
Dominic turned sharply.
“Vincent knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't he come for her?”
Maria's eyes filled with tears.
“Because he believed coming near her would get her killed.”
I looked at Dominic.
“Then who was watching me?”
“Vincent.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“He watched you from a distance.”
“Why?”
“To make sure Michael never found you.”
I shook my head.
“Then why did Michael know where I was?”
Victor answered.
“Because someone betrayed Vincent.”
“Who?”
Victor didn't respond.
Dominic grabbed him by the collar.
“Who?”
Victor's eyes hardened.
“Your brother.”
Dominic froze.
“Luca?”
“No.”
Victor looked at me.
“Ethan.”
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
Victor continued.
“Ethan didn't know the entire truth. He was manipulated.”
“By whom?”
“The council.”
Dominic released him.
“Robert Kane.”
Victor nodded.
“They promised Ethan they could erase the debt.”
I stared at the floor.
“So the fifteen million…”
“Was bait.”
“For me.”
“Yes.”
Ethan had created the debt to bring Dominic toward me.
But the council had used Ethan for their own purpose.
A terrible realization settled over me.
“They wanted Dominic to marry me.”
Victor shook his head.
“No.”
“They wanted him close to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they needed your blood.”
I frowned.
“My blood?”
Victor pointed toward the old files.
“The three children were the key to an inheritance Michael and Vincent fought over.”
“What inheritance?”
“Not money.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Then what?”
“Control.”
“Of what?”
Victor took a breath.
“The Rossi and Moretti networks were never meant to remain separate.”
Maria whispered:
“They were built from the same foundation.”
I stared at her.
“My father and Michael were partners.”
“Once.”
“And the children?”
“They were supposed to unite the families.”
Dominic looked disgusted.
“You're saying they planned marriages between their children?”
“No.”
Maria shook her head.
“They planned ownership.”
I felt sick.
“They wanted to use us.”
“Yes.”
The basement door suddenly rattled.
Arthur raised his weapon.
“Someone's outside.”
Dominic immediately moved in front of me.
“Get Clara out.”
Arthur nodded.
Luca opened the emergency passage.
Ethan grabbed my hand.
“Come on.”
I pulled away.
“Don't touch me.”
His face crumpled.
“Clara…”
“You lied to me.”
“I know.”
“You sold my life.”
“I was trying to save it.”
“You don't get to say that anymore.”
He looked at Dominic.
“I made one mistake.”
Dominic's voice was cold.
“You made several.”
The door shook again.
This time harder.
Wood cracked.
Arthur fired through it.
The impact silenced whoever stood outside.
Then came a voice.
“Arthur.”
He froze.
Dominic looked at him.
“Who is that?”
Arthur's face had gone pale.
“I know that voice.”
The door opened.
A man stepped inside.
Gray hair.
Black coat.
A walking cane.
Dominic raised his weapon.
The man smiled.
“Put it down.”
Dominic stared.
“Robert Kane.”
The old man smiled.
“Hello, Dominic.”
Arthur aimed directly at him.
“You're under arrest.”
Robert laughed.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
“No.”
He looked toward me.
“For protecting the family.”
I felt cold.
“You're the one who manipulated Ethan.”
Robert looked at me.
“I gave him an opportunity.”
“You destroyed my life.”
“I saved it.”
I almost laughed.
“Everyone says that.”
Robert's smile disappeared.
“You don't understand what Vincent Moretti is.”
“Then tell me.”
“Your father is not the victim you think he is.”
Victor stepped forward.
“Don't listen to him.”
Robert turned.
“You're still alive?”
Victor's expression hardened.
“Unfortunately for you.”
Robert laughed.
“Michael should have killed you.”
“Michael failed.”
“Michael failed at many things.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“Where is he?”
Robert smiled.
“Closer than you think.”
The basement lights flickered.
Dominic turned.
A hidden monitor on the wall activated.
A live security feed appeared.
A man walked through an underground garage.
Black coat.
Silver hair.
Slow steps.
Dominic stopped breathing.
Michael Rossi.
Alive.
Walking toward the building.
Robert watched the screen.
“Your father wants Clara.”
Dominic's gun tightened in his hand.
“He'll never get her.”
Robert looked at me.
“That depends on whether you finally understand why Vincent abandoned her.”
My heart stopped.
“My father abandoned me?”
Robert nodded.
“He didn't disappear to protect you.”
“Then why?”
“He was afraid of you.”
The room went silent.
I shook my head.
“Why would my own father be afraid of me?”
Robert looked at the three old bracelets on the table.
“Because you weren't the daughter he expected.”
Dominic frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Robert smiled.
“Clara was born with a genetic condition.”
I stiffened.
“What condition?”
Robert looked at Victor.
Victor whispered:
“It's not a condition.”
“What?”
Victor stepped closer.
“It's a marker.”
“For what?”
“Your bloodline.”
Robert laughed.
“You still don't understand.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small envelope.
He handed it to me.
Inside was an old medical photograph.
A newborn.
My newborn face.
On the back was a handwritten note.
Subject A carries the Rossi-Moretti marker.
I stared at it.
“What is that?”
Robert's expression became serious.
“A genetic marker shared by only one documented family line.”
“Which one?”
“Both.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Rossi and Moretti.”
Robert shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Something older.”
A siren sounded outside.
Arthur checked the window.
“More vehicles.”
Robert smiled.
“They're here.”
“Who?”
He looked toward the basement entrance.
“Everyone who has been waiting for Clara to come home.”
The door exploded inward.
Men rushed through.
Gunfire erupted.
Dominic grabbed me and pulled me behind a concrete pillar.
Arthur fired back.
Luca dragged Helen toward the emergency exit.
Maria screamed.
Ethan tackled Robert to the floor.
The room became chaos.
I heard Dominic shouting my name.
Then someone grabbed me from behind.
A hand covered my mouth.
I fought.
The man dragged me toward the corridor.
I kicked backward.
He stumbled.
I turned.
And froze.
Vincent Moretti stood in front of me.
Not old.
Not dead.
Not the ghost I had imagined.
A man in his late fifties with dark hair streaked with silver and the same eyes I had seen in my own mirror for twenty-eight years.
He looked at me.
His lips trembled.
“Clara.”
I couldn't speak.
He stepped closer.
“I've searched for you every day.”
I stared at him.
“You're my father.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
Behind him, Dominic appeared with his weapon raised.
Vincent looked at him.
“Don't.”
Dominic stopped.
“You stayed away from her.”
“I had no choice.”
“You left her.”
“I protected her.”
“You let her believe she had no father.”
“I had to.”
Dominic's anger shook his voice.
“Why?”
Vincent looked at me.
“Because Michael wasn't hunting Clara.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then who?”
Vincent took a slow breath.
“The person hunting her was the one person I could never defeat.”
“Who?”
He looked past me.
At Maria.
Then at Robert.
Then at Victor.
Finally, his eyes returned to mine.
“Your twin.”
I stared at him.
“Isabella?”
Vincent shook his head.
“No.”
My heart stopped.
“Then who?”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Your twin died twenty-eight years ago.”
I couldn't breathe.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
His voice broke.
“Isabella was never the second child.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Then who was?”
Vincent looked at me.
“You were.”
The world seemed to disappear.
“What?”
“You were the child they thought was Isabella.”
Dominic stared.
Vincent continued.
“Your mother gave you the name Clara to hide you.”
“Then who is Isabella?”
Vincent looked toward Maria.
Maria began crying.
“The girl we called Isabella was actually…”
The lights went out.
A single gunshot echoed through the basement.
Maria's sentence stopped.
Then a woman's voice came from the darkness.
“Clara.”
I knew that voice.
It was the voice from the phone.
The voice that had haunted every secret.
The voice of the woman who claimed to be my twin.
And she whispered:
“I'm not Isabella.”
A pause.
May you like
Then:
“I'm your mother.”
