Chapter 4 - The Secret Hidden Before My Birth
"Your real mother is alive."
I read the message again.
And again.
But the words didn't change.
For my entire life, I had believed I knew the truth.
My mother had died when I was a child.
That was the story I was given.
That was the memory I carried.
That was the wound I had learned to live with.
But now, inside Cesare Bellante's private office, holding a phone that belonged to a stranger, everything I believed about myself started falling apart.
I looked at Cesare.
"Tell me this is a lie."
He didn't answer.
That was worse.
Because Cesare Bellante always had an answer.
He could intimidate powerful men without raising his voice.
He could negotiate impossible deals.
He could walk into a room full of enemies and make them afraid.
But now, standing in front of me, he looked like a man who had run out of ways to hide the truth.
"Cesare."
His eyes met mine.
"I don't know who sent that message."
"But you believe it."
His silence was enough.
I put the phone on the desk.
"How long have you known?"
His expression tightened.
"Elena..."
"How long?"
A few seconds passed.
Then he said the words I never wanted to hear.
"Since before I met you."
My chest tightened.
I laughed softly.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I didn't know what else to do.
"So my entire marriage was built on secrets."
"No."
"Then what was it built on?"
He stepped toward me.
"Protection."
I looked at him.
"That is what everyone says when they hide something."
The door opened behind us.
Sofia walked in.
She had heard enough.
"She's right."
Cesare looked at her.
"Sofia."
"No, Cesare."
Her voice was calm.
"But she deserves the truth."
I turned toward her.
"You knew?"
Sofia didn't look away.
"Yes."
The answer hurt more than I expected.
"You knew my mother was alive?"
Sofia hesitated.
"Not exactly."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Sofia walked closer.
"It means we never found her body."
The room became silent.
I stared at her.
"You told everyone she died."
"No."
Sofia looked at Cesare.
"Someone else did."
I felt a chill.
"Who?"
Neither of them answered.
Again.
That same silence.
That same invisible wall.
And suddenly, I was tired of standing outside it.
"I am done being protected."
Cesare looked at me.
"Elena."
"No."
My voice shook, but I continued.
"I spent my whole life believing I was abandoned. I believed my mother left me. I believed I was alone."
I pointed at the file.
"But all of you knew something."
Nobody spoke.
"You knew there was another story."
Cesare lowered his eyes.
And that was when I realized something.
He wasn't hiding the truth because he didn't trust me.
He was hiding it because he was afraid of what the truth would do to me.
But that didn't make it easier.
I needed answers.
Not protection.
Not promises.
Answers.
Sofia slowly opened the old file on the desk.
Inside were documents from years ago.
Hospital records.
Photographs.
Letters.
She pulled out one picture.
It showed my mother.
Young.
Smiling.
Alive.
Standing beside a woman I didn't recognize.
"Who is she?"
Sofia looked at the photograph.
"Your mother's closest friend."
"Why don't I know her?"
"Because she disappeared the same night your mother did."
My fingers tightened around the picture.
"Disappeared?"
Sofia nodded.
"Both of them knew something they shouldn't have known."
"About the Bellantes?"
"About the people behind the Bellantes."
I looked at Cesare.
"What does that mean?"
He walked toward the window.
"My family has enemies."
"Everyone knows that."
"No."
He turned back.
"You don't understand."
His expression became serious.
"There are people who don't want power."
"Then what do they want?"
Cesare looked at me.
"Control."
The answer made my skin crawl.
Sofia placed another document in front of me.
"This was found after your mother vanished."
I read the page.
It was a letter.
The handwriting was familiar.
My mother's.
My hands shook as I opened it.
The letter was short.
Only a few lines.
Cesare,
If anything happens to me, don't let them find Elena.
She cannot know who she really is.
Protect her until she is ready.
My breath stopped.
I looked up.
"Who am I?"
Nobody answered.
That question had followed me my entire life.
Who was my father?
Why did my mother disappear?
Why did Cesare know about me?
Why was someone watching me before I even knew him?
I looked at Cesare.
"You know."
He didn't deny it.
"You know who I am."
His eyes softened.
"I know what your mother wanted to protect you from."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
He stepped closer.
"But it's the truth I can give you right now."
I looked away.
I hated that part of me still trusted him.
Even after everything.
Even after all the secrets.
Because when Cesare looked at me, I didn't see someone trying to control me.
I saw someone terrified of losing me.
And that confused me more than anything.
Later that evening, I left the office alone.
I needed space.
The mansion felt different now.
Every hallway seemed to hold another secret.
Every person I passed looked away too quickly.
Everyone knew something.
Everyone except me.
I walked into the library.
It was the only room where nobody followed me.
At least I thought so.
I searched through old books.
Not because I expected to find answers.
Because I needed to feel like I was doing something.
Then I noticed something strange.
One bookshelf was slightly moved.
Only a few inches.
Almost impossible to notice.
I pushed it.
Nothing happened.
I pushed harder.
A hidden door opened behind it.
My heart started beating faster.
Inside was a small room.
No lights.
No windows.
Just an old wooden box sitting in the center.
My name was written on top.
ELENA.
I froze.
Someone had prepared this for me.
I opened the box slowly.
Inside was a necklace.
A childhood photograph.
And a small envelope.
The photograph showed me as a baby.
But I wasn't alone.
There was a woman holding me.
A woman whose face I had never seen before.
On the back of the photograph were four words.
"Your mother never left."
My hands started shaking.
Then I opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter.
But it wasn't from my mother.
It was from Cesare.
The date was fifteen years earlier.
Before I had ever met him.
Before I knew his name.
I read the first line.
"Elena, if you are reading this, it means I failed to keep my promise."
I stopped breathing.
Why would Cesare write a letter to me fifteen years ago?
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
Slow.
Heavy.
Someone entered the hidden room.
I turned around.
Cesare was standing in the doorway.
His face had lost all color.
Because he wasn't looking at me.
He was looking at the letter in my hand.
May you like
And he whispered:
"Who gave you that?"
