Chapter 2 - The Heir's Secret
Alessandro moved before I could breathe.
He pulled me behind him and pushed the bedroom door nearly closed.
"Stay here."
"What are you doing?"
"Claire."
The single word stopped me.
I had never heard his voice like that.
Not loud.
Not panicked.
Deadly calm.
He stepped into the hall.
I heard the apartment door open.
Then another man's voice.
"Your father wants a conversation."
"You broke into my home for a conversation?"
"I used a key."
"I never gave him one."
Silence.
I moved closer to the bedroom door.
Through the narrow opening, I saw a gray-haired man in a navy suit standing in Alessandro's living room.
He looked about fifty.
Polished.
Expressionless.
Alessandro stood between him and me.
"Leave," Alessandro said.
"Your father asked me to bring you to the house."
"I'm busy."
The man's gaze shifted toward the bedroom.
"Apparently."
Alessandro stepped sideways, blocking his view.
"Don't."
The man smiled.
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't need to."
That was when I understood.
This wasn't an employee.
This was someone Alessandro considered dangerous.
The stranger placed an envelope on the table.
"Marco said you'll want to read this before midnight."
Then he turned toward the door.
He paused.
"One more thing."
Alessandro said nothing.
"Your father knows about the waitress."
My blood went cold.
The man left.
Alessandro locked the door behind him.
For several seconds he didn't turn around.
I stepped into the living room.
"He knows about me."
Alessandro looked at the envelope.
"Apparently."
"How?"
"I intend to find out."
"What does that mean?"
He faced me.
"It means you're right."
"About what?"
"My world isn't safe for you."
The words should have relieved me.
Instead they hurt.
I folded my arms.
"So that's it?"
"No."
"You just said—"
"I said it isn't safe. I didn't say I'm letting anyone decide what happens to you."
I laughed once.
"That's exactly the kind of sentence that scares me."
His eyes softened.
"I know."
That stopped me.
Alessandro wasn't pretending anymore.
He wasn't telling me his family was misunderstood.
He wasn't asking me to trust him blindly.
He knew why I was frightened.
And for the first time, I realized he might be frightened too.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
He stared at it.
"What?"
He handed it to me.
The picture showed me leaving Rosie's three nights earlier.
Someone had taken it from across the street.
On the back, written in black ink, were six words.
SHE DOESN'T BELONG IN THIS FAMILY.
My stomach twisted.
"Your father sent this?"
"I don't know."
"The man said—"
"He said my father told me to read it. He didn't say my father created it."
"You're defending him?"
"No."
Alessandro's voice became harder.
"I'm telling you not to assume anything in my family is what it looks like."
I hated that answer.
Because it sounded like experience.
He called someone named Nico and ordered security posted downstairs.
Then he made another call.
"Sofia. Where are you?"
Pause.
"No, stay there. Don't leave until I call again."
He hung up.
"Your sister?"
"Yes."
"Is she in danger?"
"I don't know."
"Because of me?"
"No."
"You don't know that."
He looked at me.
"Claire, whoever took that photograph knew you mattered to me. That makes this my responsibility."
I almost laughed.
"Your responsibility?"
"Yes."
"I'm not one of your companies."
"I know."
"I'm not a problem for you to solve."
"I know."
"Then stop talking like I belong to you."
He crossed the room slowly.
"You don't belong to me."
His voice was quieter now.
"But I care about you. More than I should."
My breath caught.
Alessandro rarely said what he felt.
He showed it.
Coffee waiting when I finished work.
A mechanic suddenly appearing after my car wouldn't start.
Dinner delivered when I studied late.
But he never named the thing between us.
Now he did.
At the worst possible moment.
"I care about you too," I whispered.
His eyes closed briefly.
That seemed to hurt him more than rejection would have.
"Then tell me what you're hiding."
There it was.
The test.
The baby.
I looked away.
"I can't."
"Can't?"
"Not yet."
He studied me.
Then nodded.
"All right."
I blinked.
"That's it?"
"For tonight."
"You aren't going to pressure me?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if I want your trust, I can't demand it."
That was the moment I almost told him.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message.
He read it.
His face went still.
"What now?"
"My father wants me at the family house."
"Tonight?"
"Now."
"Are you going?"
"Yes."
I stared at the photograph again.
"Take me with you."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because the note was about you."
"Exactly."
"Claire."
"If your father already knows who I am, keeping me hidden won't change anything."
Alessandro looked ready to argue.
Then he stopped.
Perhaps he saw what I was really asking.
I needed to see his world.
Not the version he showed me.
The real one.
"Fine," he said.
Thirty minutes later, we drove through iron gates into an estate that looked less like a home than a private embassy.
Stone walls.
Security cameras.
Men in dark coats.
I wore my pink diner uniform because everything had happened too quickly for me to change.
I felt ridiculous.
Alessandro took my hand before we entered.
I nearly pulled away.
Then I let him hold it.
Inside, a woman about fifty-eight stood near the staircase.
Elegant.
Dark hair streaked with silver.
She looked at Alessandro first.
Then me.
Her eyes widened.
"Mother," he said.
So this was Elena Vitali.
She approached.
"You brought her here?"
"Yes."
"Does Marco know?"
"He knows enough."
Elena looked directly at me.
"Claire?"
I nodded.
Her expression changed strangely.
Not disapproval.
Fear.
She stepped closer.
"Has anyone contacted you?"
"No."
"Has anyone sent you anything?"
"A photograph."
Elena went pale.
"Show me."
Alessandro handed it over.
She turned it around.
When she saw the words, her hand trembled.
"You recognize this?" I asked.
She looked at her son.
"Alessandro, where is your father?"
"Study."
"No." She grabbed his wrist. "Don't go in there."
"Why?"
"Because this isn't Marco's handwriting."
Alessandro went still.
"Whose is it?"
Elena looked at me.
Then at my stomach.
The glance lasted half a second.
But I saw it.
And Alessandro saw it too.
His eyes snapped toward me.
I stepped backward.
Elena whispered, "Oh God."
Alessandro's voice dropped.
"Mother."
She shook her head.
"Not here."
"What do you know?"
Before she could answer, the study door opened.
Marco Vitali stepped into the hall.
He was taller than I expected.
Silver hair.
Dark suit.
The same eyes as Alessandro.
He looked at his son.
Then at me.
His expression revealed nothing.
"So," Marco said quietly. "Claire Bennett."
Alessandro moved in front of me.
Marco smiled faintly.
"Still protecting people before you know what they've brought into your house."
"What does that mean?"
Marco's gaze shifted to my apron.
To my hand.
Then directly to my stomach.
My blood froze.
"I think," Marco said, "Miss Bennett should tell you why she's really here."
I stopped breathing.
Alessandro slowly turned toward me.
And behind Marco, someone inside the study whispered my name.
May you like
A woman's voice.
A voice I recognized.
