Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Was Supposed To Be Dead
The door moved.
A hand appeared around the edge.
For the first time in years, I felt something I hated more than fear.
Confusion.
I had built my entire life around knowing the truth before anyone else.
I knew who wanted me dead.
I knew who wanted my territory.
I knew which men smiled while planning my downfall.
But standing outside that apartment, staring at the woman inside, I knew nothing.
And that was more dangerous than any enemy I had ever faced.
The door opened another inch.
Beatrice stepped forward.
Her face changed when she saw me.
The color disappeared from her cheeks.
"Mr. Voss..."
Her voice was barely a whisper.
The woman behind her stood up slowly.
Even after twelve years, even after everyone told me she was gone, I knew exactly who she was.
My mother.
Elena Voss.
The woman whose funeral I watched from the back row.
The woman whose death certificate was signed by doctors my father trusted.
The woman whose name was never spoken inside my family without someone lowering their voice.
My mother looked at me like she had been waiting for this moment.
Not hoping.
Not surprised.
Waiting.
"Adrian," she whispered.
Hearing my name from her mouth felt impossible.
I didn't move.
I couldn't.
My mind searched for an explanation.
A trick.
A mistake.
Someone who looked like her.
Anything except the impossible truth standing in front of me.
"You died," I said.
The words came out colder than I expected.
My mother looked down.
"I know."
Behind me, the hallway felt smaller.
The walls felt closer.
Every instinct I had learned from years in my world told me to leave.
To call Lorenzo.
To bring my men.
To control the situation.
But my body refused to move.
Because the woman standing in front of me was not an enemy.
She was the person I had spent twelve years mourning.
Beatrice looked between us.
"I didn't want you to find out like this."
I turned toward her.
"You knew?"
She froze.
That was enough of an answer.
My jaw tightened.
"You knew my mother was alive?"
Beatrice lowered her eyes.
"Not at first."
"Then when?"
She didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
"When did you know?"
The fear on her face returned.
"Three years ago."
Three years.
The number hit harder than I expected.
Three years of lies.
Three years of someone living under my city without me knowing.
Three years of my own people hiding something from me.
My mother reached toward Beatrice.
"Don't blame her."
I looked back at Elena.
"Don't tell me what to do."
The room went silent.
I had spoken to powerful men that way.
Men twice my age.
Men with armies behind them.
But speaking to my mother felt different.
Because anger was easier than admitting what I was feeling.
I was hurt.
I was betrayed.
And worse than that...
I wanted to believe her.
My mother walked closer.
She looked older than the woman in the photograph.
Life had changed her.
The woman I remembered wore expensive dresses and stood beside my father at every event.
This woman wore a simple sweater.
Her hands were rough.
Her eyes carried years of fear.
"Your father told you I was dead because he wanted you protected."
I laughed once.
It wasn't amusement.
It was disbelief.
"My father?"
The same man who taught me never to trust anyone?
The same man who built an empire on secrets?
"He protected me by letting me believe my mother was buried?"
Elena looked away.
"He believed the people who came for me would come for you next."
I stared at her.
"Who?"
She didn't answer.
That bothered me more than anything.
Because I had learned something important.
People usually stayed silent for two reasons.
They were afraid.
Or they were protecting someone.
And I needed to know which one she was doing.
"Who tried to kill you?"
My mother looked toward the window.
The old apartment suddenly felt like a prison.
"They weren't trying to kill me."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Then what were they trying to do?"
Her voice became quieter.
"They wanted me erased."
The word stayed in the room.
Erased.
Not killed.
Not removed.
Erased.
Like I had never existed.
Like my family had rewritten history.
I looked at Beatrice.
"Who else knows?"
She hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
"Answer me."
She swallowed.
"Someone else knows."
"Who?"
Before she could speak, my phone vibrated.
The sound cut through the silence.
I looked at the screen.
A message.
From Lorenzo.
I opened it.
BOSS.
WHERE ARE YOU?
I typed back.
HOW DID YOU KNOW I LEFT?
The response came instantly.
I DON'T.
I stared at the message.
Something felt wrong.
Then another message appeared.
BOSS...
DON'T GO BACK TO THE MANSION.
I stopped breathing.
A second message arrived.
TOO LATE.
My eyes moved to Elena.
She was watching me.
Not the phone.
Me.
"You need to leave."
I looked at her.
"Why?"
Her expression changed.
For the first time since I found her, I saw real fear.
"Because they know."
The lights in the apartment flickered.
Beatrice stepped toward the window.
"What was that?"
Nobody answered.
I moved closer to the door.
My hand reached toward my weapon.
Years of survival took over.
The hallway outside was silent.
Too silent.
I opened the door slightly.
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No voices.
No movement.
But something was different.
The apartment building that had felt forgotten moments ago suddenly felt occupied.
Someone was there.
Watching.
Waiting.
My phone vibrated again.
This time, it wasn't Lorenzo.
Unknown number.
One message.
I looked at the screen.
My blood turned cold.
The message contained only six words.
"Ask your mother about your father."
I looked back at Elena.
She had seen my face.
She knew.
"Who sent that?" I asked.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she whispered something I never expected to hear.
"Adrian... your father wasn't the man you thought he was."
The floor creaked behind me.
Not from the hallway.
From inside the apartment.
Someone else was there.
Someone who had been hiding while I was talking.
May you like
I turned slowly toward the dark bedroom door.
The handle started to move.
