Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Knew The Secret
"I finally found her."
The voice came from the other side of the door.
I couldn't see the person standing there.
But Adrian could.
And whatever he saw made the color disappear from his face.
For the first time since I met him, Adrian Moretti looked afraid.
Not angry.
Not irritated.
Afraid.
His hand tightened around mine.
"Stay behind me," he whispered.
I stared at him.
"Who is it?"
He didn't answer.
That scared me more than anything.
Because Adrian always had an answer.
He always knew what to say.
He always knew how to control a room.
But now he was standing in front of me like he was trying to protect me from something he had spent his entire life running from.
The door opened slowly.
A woman stepped inside.
She looked to be in her late fifties.
Her dark hair was streaked with silver.
Her face carried years of exhaustion.
But her eyes were sharp.
Focused.
And the moment she looked at me, tears filled them.
"Nia."
My heart stopped.
Nobody said my name like that.
Not with surprise.
Not with pain.
Like they had been waiting years to say it.
I stepped back.
"Who are you?"
The woman looked at Adrian.
Then at the necklace around his hand.
Then back at me.
"My name is Clara Bennett."
The room went silent.
My last name.
Bennett.
The same name my mother gave me.
The same name I carried my entire life.
But I had never heard this woman's name before.
"You're related to me?"
My voice sounded smaller than I wanted.
Clara looked away.
"Yes."
Adrian stepped forward.
"Who are you really?"
The woman didn't flinch.
"I knew your father before you were born."
Adrian's expression hardened.
"Everyone says that."
"No."
Clara shook her head.
"Everyone tells you stories about your father."
She looked directly at him.
"I know the truth."
That sentence changed the entire room.
Because nobody spoke about Victor Moretti like that.
Not in his own house.
Not to his son's face.
Adrian moved closer.
"What truth?"
Clara looked at me.
And I knew.
Whatever she was about to say would change everything.
"Your father didn't find Nia's mother by accident."
My stomach tightened.
"What are you talking about?"
Clara walked slowly toward the desk.
She looked at the old photograph.
The one of my mother standing beside Victor.
"You were told your mother disappeared because she wanted to leave."
I felt my throat tighten.
"That's what I was told."
Clara closed her eyes.
"That was a lie."
The words hit me harder than I expected.
Because a part of me had always known.
People didn't disappear without leaving pieces behind.
They didn't vanish from the world while leaving behind unanswered questions.
They left scars.
And my mother had left many.
"Where was she?" I asked.
Clara looked at me.
"She was trying to protect you."
"From who?"
Nobody answered.
I looked at Adrian.
Then at Clara.
Then at the necklace in Adrian's hand.
"From the Morettis?"
Adrian immediately looked away.
And that told me enough.
I left the study before anyone could stop me.
I needed air.
I needed space.
I needed something that made sense.
But nothing made sense anymore.
The mansion I thought was just a workplace was connected to my mother.
The man I thought was just a cruel rich heir had memories of me from childhood.
And the family everyone feared knew more about my life than I did.
I walked down the hallway holding my injured arm.
The pain didn't matter anymore.
The questions hurt worse.
"Nia."
I stopped.
Adrian was behind me.
I didn't turn around.
"I need answers."
"I know."
"No."
I faced him.
"You don't know."
For once, he didn't argue.
"You found my mother's picture hidden in your father's office."
He nodded.
"You had my necklace."
Another nod.
"You remember me."
His jaw tightened.
"Yes."
"Then tell me."
He looked away.
"I don't remember everything."
"How convenient."
The words came out colder than I intended.
But I couldn't stop them.
"You spent your whole life believing everyone around you was lying. Do you understand what it feels like when suddenly you're the person being kept in the dark?"
Adrian looked at me.
And something in his expression changed.
Because he did understand.
Maybe more than anyone.
"When I was eight years old," he said quietly, "I saw my father arguing with a woman."
I stayed silent.
"He told me to go upstairs."
He looked toward the staircase.
"But I didn't."
His voice lowered.
"I watched."
I could see the memory hurting him.
"The woman was crying."
My fingers curled.
"What woman?"
He looked at me.
"Your mother."
The hallway felt colder.
"She was holding something."
"The necklace?"
"No."
A pause.
"She was holding a baby."
My breath caught.
"What?"
Adrian looked away.
"I don't know if it was you."
My heart raced.
"Then why do you think it was?"
"Because she looked at me."
His eyes met mine.
"And she said something."
"What?"
Adrian swallowed.
"She said, 'Please remember her.'"
I felt dizzy.
The world around me blurred.
"Remember who?"
Adrian didn't answer.
Because neither of us wanted to say it.
Me.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I sat on my apartment floor with my mother's old box open in front of me.
I searched through everything.
Every photograph.
Every note.
Every hidden piece of paper.
And then I found something I had never seen before.
A small envelope taped beneath the bottom of the box.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
The paper was old.
The ink was faded.
But the handwriting was clear.
My mother's handwriting.
Nia,
If you are reading this, then they finally found you.
I stopped breathing.
I read the next line.
I hoped you would never have to know the truth.
My eyes filled with tears.
The Moretti family will tell you they protected us.
They will tell you they had no choice.
Don't believe everything they say.
I turned the page.
The next sentence made my blood run cold.
Adrian is not the person you should fear.
I stared at the words.
Because that wasn't what I expected.
Not even close.
The person I had spent weeks avoiding.
The person everyone warned me about.
The person I thought was dangerous.
My mother was saying he wasn't the threat.
Then who was?
I kept reading.
There is someone inside that family who has been hiding the truth for years.
My hands trembled.
A sound came from outside my apartment.
I froze.
Someone was there.
I slowly stood.
The hallway light underneath my door moved.
A shadow passed.
I grabbed my phone.
The shadow stopped.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
I opened it.
My blood turned cold.
It was a picture.
A picture of Adrian and me in the mansion hallway.
Taken that morning.
And underneath it were six words:
"Ask Adrian what happened to your mother."
I stared at the screen.
Another message appeared.
This time only three words.
"Before he lies."
I didn't know how long I stood there.
I didn't know whether I was scared of the stranger outside.
Or scared that the message was true.
Then someone knocked.
Three slow knocks.
I stepped closer to the door.
"Who is it?"
Silence.
Then a familiar voice answered.
"Nia."
I froze.
Because it wasn't Adrian.
It was someone I thought was dead.
May you like
The door handle moved.
And the person outside whispered my mother's name.
