Chapter 4 - The Doctor's Daughter
The person behind me lowered the gun.
"Elena."
I turned around.
It was the woman who had brought me into the mansion.
The one who knew every hallway.
Every security code.
Every secret.
She was holding the missing folder.
And inside it was my father's name.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The emergency lights painted the room in a dim red glow.
Massimo stared at her.
Not with surprise.
With betrayal.
"You."
The woman looked at him.
"I tried to stop this."
Massimo's voice became colder.
"No."
He looked at the folder in her hand.
"You tried to hide it."
I felt my heartbeat getting louder.
I didn't care about their history.
I didn't care about their power games.
I only cared about one thing.
My father.
"Give me the folder."
The woman looked at me.
Her expression softened.
That was the first time I saw her look like a normal person.
Not a guard.
Not a servant.
Not someone protecting secrets.
Just someone who felt guilty.
"Elena, listen to me."
"No."
My voice surprised even me.
"I have spent twelve years believing my father died without leaving anything behind."
I stepped forward.
"Now I find out his name is connected to a dead Mafia member and an attempted murder."
My hands shook.
"But everyone keeps telling me to wait."
I looked at Massimo.
"Everyone keeps deciding what I can handle."
Silence.
Then Massimo said quietly:
"You're right."
The answer caught me off guard.
He looked at the woman.
"Give it to her."
The woman hesitated.
Then she placed the folder on the table.
I opened it.
The first page was a medical report.
My father's name was written at the top.
Dr. Thomas Marlow.
My hands froze.
I knew that signature.
I had seen it thousands of times.
On old documents.
On my childhood drawings.
On the birthday cards he wrote before he died.
But underneath his name was something I had never seen.
"Consultant."
I kept reading.
My eyes moved across the page.
Patient: Luca Pascale.
My breathing stopped.
My father had treated Massimo's brother.
The man whose death started everything.
I looked at Massimo.
"You knew."
He didn't deny it.
"I knew your father was involved."
"Involved?"
My voice rose.
"He was a doctor."
Massimo looked down.
"Your father wasn't involved because of my world."
"Then why?"
He didn't answer.
The woman did.
"Because Luca trusted him."
I turned toward her.
"What does that mean?"
She looked at the documents.
"Your father discovered Luca had been poisoned."
The room went silent.
"What?"
Massimo's expression changed.
"Your father found evidence that someone inside the organization was slowly poisoning Luca."
My fingers tightened around the paper.
"But the official report said he died from heart failure."
"Because someone changed the report."
I stared at the pages.
My entire understanding of my father's death began collapsing.
"My father knew?"
Massimo nodded slowly.
"He knew someone was trying to cover it up."
"Then why didn't he tell anyone?"
Massimo looked away.
That answer hurt more than the others.
Because I already knew.
"He tried."
The woman's voice was quiet.
"He tried to expose the person responsible."
I looked at her.
"What happened?"
Nobody answered.
I already knew something terrible was coming.
"What happened to my father?"
Massimo's eyes met mine.
And for the first time, I saw genuine regret.
"Your father died three days after Luca."
The room felt colder.
"But the police said it was an accident."
"It wasn't."
The words came from Massimo.
Simple.
Certain.
My stomach dropped.
I grabbed the edge of the table.
"You knew my father was murdered?"
Massimo didn't respond.
That was enough.
"You hired me because of him."
His silence confirmed it.
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I didn't know what else to do.
"So this whole time..."
I looked around the mansion.
"The job. The money. The contract."
My eyes returned to him.
"It was never about rehabilitation."
Massimo looked at me.
"It was."
"Don't lie to me."
His expression changed.
A flash of pain crossed his face.
"I needed someone I could trust."
"You didn't know me."
"I knew enough."
"How?"
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
"How did you know enough about me?"
The question stayed between us.
Then the woman quietly said:
"Because he has been watching over you for years."
I looked at Massimo.
"What?"
His face hardened.
"Enough."
But it was too late.
I heard every word.
"Since my father died?"
No answer.
"Massimo."
His silence was becoming unbearable.
"Since when?"
Finally, he spoke.
"Since the night your father died."
I felt something break inside me.
Not sadness.
Not anger.
Something worse.
The feeling of realizing your entire life was built on a lie.
"Why?"
Massimo looked at me.
"Because your father saved my life."
I didn't understand.
"He saved you?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
His eyes lowered.
"Because the person who killed him was still looking for what he left behind."
I looked at the folder.
"What did he leave?"
Massimo stared at the papers.
Something in his expression changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
"Elena..."
A sound interrupted him.
A phone vibrating.
Everyone froze.
The woman looked toward the table.
"My phone isn't there."
The security system flashed.
Unknown device detected.
Massimo immediately looked at me.
"Where is your phone?"
I reached into my pocket.
My phone was gone.
I never noticed.
The screen suddenly lit up on the table.
A message appeared.
No number.
No contact.
Just three words.
"Your father lied."
I stared at it.
Then another message appeared.
"Ask Massimo what happened in Room 17."
The color disappeared from Massimo's face.
Because he knew exactly what Room 17 was.
The woman whispered:
"No..."
I looked at him.
"What is Room 17?"
He didn't answer.
The phone vibrated again.
A final message appeared.
This time with a photo attached.
My hands went cold as the image loaded.
It was my father.
Standing beside Massimo.
On the night he died.
But there was someone else in the picture.
Someone I recognized.
May you like
Someone who was still inside the mansion.
And when Massimo saw the face in the photo, he whispered one name...
