Chapter 3 - The Truth Hidden in the Recording
The video screen flickered.
My father’s face remained frozen on the monitor.
"Your mother was never the person you thought she was."
The words stayed in the air.
Heavy.
Impossible.
I stared at the screen, waiting for something to change.
Waiting for someone to tell me this was a trick.
A setup.
A lie.
But the man on the screen was my father.
The same tired eyes.
The same scar above his eyebrow.
The same voice that used to wake me up before school.
Dante stood beside me, completely still.
For the first time, the most powerful man in the room looked powerless.
"You knew about this."
His voice was low.
I looked at him.
"No."
"Don’t lie to me."
"I didn’t know this existed."
He studied my face.
Searching.
Trying to find the truth.
Then he looked back at the screen.
The recording continued.
My father leaned closer to the camera.
"Elena, if you are seeing this, you need to understand something."
The room became silent.
Even Dante’s guards stopped moving.
"My death was not an accident."
My chest tightened.
I already knew that.
At least, I thought I knew.
Everyone had told me my father died because he got involved with dangerous people.
Everyone told me he made mistakes.
Everyone told me there was nothing anyone could do.
But hearing him say it himself changed everything.
"I was betrayed by someone I trusted."
The video paused for a second.
Then my father looked directly into the camera.
"I was betrayed by someone inside our family."
I stopped breathing.
Dante looked at me.
Not because he suspected me.
Because he knew what that meant.
Family.
Not blood.
Not always.
The people closest to you.
The ones who knew where to hurt you.
My father continued.
"Dante Moretti was supposed to protect this information."
Dante’s face hardened.
"Stop."
I looked at him.
"What?"
He stepped closer to the screen.
"Turn it off."
Nobody moved.
The guards looked confused.
Because Dante Moretti didn’t ask.
He commanded.
But this time, he wasn’t giving orders.
He was afraid.
The video continued.
"Dante, if you failed, it means they found a way to reach you too."
Dante’s jaw tightened.
My father knew.
He knew something was coming.
He knew Dante would watch this.
He knew I would be there.
The question was why.
Why leave this message?
Why hide it for ten years?
Why wait until now?
Then my father said something that made my entire body freeze.
"Elena, the woman who raised you was not your mother."
The room went silent.
I laughed.
A small, broken sound.
Because sometimes your mind rejects the truth before your heart does.
"No."
Dante looked at me.
"Elena."
"No."
I stepped away from the screen.
"No, he’s wrong."
But my voice didn’t sound convincing.
Because deep inside, there had always been questions.
Small ones.
Things I ignored.
The way my mother never talked about my birth.
The old photographs missing from our house.
The documents I found hidden in a drawer after she died.
Things I told myself didn’t matter.
Because I wanted a normal life.
I wanted my family to be real.
Dante moved toward me.
"You didn’t know."
I looked at him.
"Don’t."
His expression softened.
"I believe you."
That made me angry.
More than if he had accused me.
"You believe me?"
"Yes."
"After everything?"
He looked confused.
"After you lied about knowing me?"
"I didn’t lie."
"You hid."
I looked away.
Because he was right.
I had hidden.
But so had he.
"You disappeared."
His expression changed.
"Elena..."
"No."
My voice shook.
"You don’t get to say my name like you were there."
The words hit him.
Good.
He deserved them.
For ten years, I carried questions that had no answers.
Ten years wondering why everyone disappeared.
My father.
My old life.
The people who promised to protect me.
And now the man standing in front of me wanted to act like he was the only one who suffered.
The screen continued playing.
My father’s voice returned.
"If you are with Dante right now, listen carefully."
Both of us turned.
"Do not trust anyone around him."
Dante immediately looked at his guards.
The room changed.
Everyone became a suspect.
"Someone close to Dante helped destroy our family."
One of the guards stepped back.
Another reached for his phone.
Dante noticed.
"Put it down."
The man froze.
Dante stared at him.
"Now."
The guard slowly lowered his hand.
My father continued.
"The person who betrayed us has been waiting for the right moment."
The video became distorted.
Static filled the screen.
Then my father said one final thing.
"Elena, the truth about your birth is hidden where it all started."
The screen went black.
Nobody spoke.
For several seconds, nobody even moved.
Then Dante walked toward the monitor.
He touched the screen.
Like somehow he could bring the message back.
"He knew."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"He knew someone would come after you."
I crossed my arms.
"Or maybe he knew you would."
Dante looked at me.
The accusation hurt him.
I saw it.
But I didn’t take it back.
"You think I had something to do with his death?"
"No."
His answer came immediately.
Too quickly.
"I think someone wanted us to believe you were dead."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Dante looked toward the dark screen.
"It means whoever did this didn’t just want your father gone."
He looked at me.
"They wanted you erased."
A cold feeling moved through me.
Because suddenly everything made sense.
The fake records.
The missing documents.
The people who told me to leave.
The years spent hiding under a different name.
Someone had worked very hard to make sure Elena Valenti disappeared.
And they almost succeeded.
Dante’s phone rang again.
This time, he answered immediately.
"What?"
The voice on the other end sounded urgent.
His expression changed.
"What hospital?"
My heart dropped.
"What happened?"
Dante ended the call.
One of his men approached.
"Boss?"
Dante looked at me.
"It’s my oldest informant."
"And?"
"He found the original file."
For the first time that night, Dante looked uncertain.
"Where?"
He hesitated.
"At your old house."
I froze.
My old house.
The place where my father died.
The place I hadn’t returned to in ten years.
"That’s impossible."
Dante looked at me.
"Why?"
"Because it burned down."
Silence.
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
"What?"
I swallowed.
"The night my father died."
I remembered the flames.
The smoke.
The neighbors screaming.
The police telling us nothing could be saved.
Dante slowly turned toward his men.
"Find out who owns that property now."
A guard immediately left.
But before he reached the door, every light in the club turned off.
The room went completely dark.
I heard movement.
A chair scraping.
A sharp breath.
Then a voice came from somewhere behind us.
"Still protecting her after all these years, Dante?"
Dante instantly pulled a weapon.
I turned toward the sound.
Because I knew that voice.
I had heard it once before.
Ten years ago.
On the night my life ended.
A man stepped into the emergency lights.
Older.
Different.
But impossible to forget.
Dante whispered one name.
The name I never expected to hear again.
"Marco..."
The man smiled.
And raised a folder containing my father’s missing file...
May you like
The folder opened.
And the first page had my real name written on it.
