Chapter 6 - What My Father Left Behind
My father had been dead for twelve years.
I had spent most of my life believing his death was the worst thing that had ever happened to our family.
I was wrong.
Victor took me to a private room.
Dmitri brought Daniel in.
The moment I saw my brother, I ran to him.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded.
“They didn't hurt me.”
I held him tightly.
Victor watched quietly.
Daniel looked over my shoulder.
“Is that him?”
I nodded.
“Victor Romano.”
Daniel whispered.
“The guy you punched?”
I almost laughed.
“Yes.”
Victor raised an eyebrow.
Daniel looked embarrassed.
“Sorry.”
For a moment, the tension disappeared.
Then Victor asked Daniel about the men.
Daniel described the car.
Black sedan.
Tinted windows.
No plates.
One man had a scar above his eyebrow.
Dmitri immediately wrote it down.
Then Victor turned to me.
“Your father.”
I stiffened.
“What about him?”
“Do you have anything he left behind?”
“A few boxes.”
“Where?”
“Our apartment.”
Victor nodded.
“We need to see them.”
We drove there under security escort.
My apartment had always felt small.
That night, it felt exposed.
My mother was asleep.
Daniel stayed beside her.
I took Victor into the storage room.
There were old photographs, bills, clothes and one wooden box.
I opened it.
My father had left behind a watch, several letters and a small notebook.
Victor picked up the notebook.
The first pages were ordinary.
Dates.
Names.
Expenses.
Then we reached a page near the middle.
Victor Romano.
I stared.
“What?”
Victor read the next line.
“Clara Whitmore.”
Then another.
“Leon Mercer.”
My hands trembled.
“My father knew them?”
Victor kept reading.
There was one sentence.
They are building a plan around the Romano company.
Victor looked at me.
“How old is this?”
“Twelve years.”
He turned another page.
A date.
Two weeks before my father died.
Then:
If anything happens to me, protect Lena. She has no idea what she carries.
I stared at the words.
“What do I carry?”
Victor looked at me.
“I don't know.”
We searched the box again.
Nothing.
Then Daniel called from the bedroom.
“Lena!”
We rushed out.
He held something in his hand.
A small metal key.
“I found this inside Mom's old sewing box.”
Victor took it.
A number was engraved on it.
Dmitri looked at Victor.
“There are old storage lockers at the Grandeur.”
Victor nodded.
“Locker 417.”
We returned to the hotel.
The basement had been cleared.
The locker was behind a row of old maintenance rooms.
Victor opened it.
Inside was a single envelope.
My name was written across it.
LENA.
I reached for it.
Victor stopped me.
“I'll open it.”
“No.”
I took it.
My hands shook.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph of my father standing beside a much younger Victor.
Behind them stood Clara.
And Leon.
On the back of the photograph, my father had written:
Victor doesn't know who betrayed him.
Then a second sentence.
And neither does Lena.
Victor stared at the photograph.
Suddenly the hotel alarm sounded.
Dmitri ran into the room.
“Victor!”
“What?”
“We have another problem.”
“What now?”
Dmitri looked at me.
“The security cameras just captured Clara entering the hotel.”
I stared at him.
“She disappeared.”
Dmitri shook his head.
“No.”
He pointed toward the monitor.
May you like
“She didn't come back.”
“She never left.”
