CHAPTER 4

I didn't sleep. The photograph remained on my bedside table until morning.

I must have looked at it a hundred times.

My father... Vincent...

Standing beside each other as if they had known one another for years?

But that wasn't what disturbed me most.

It was the date written on the back.

Nine years ago.

Nine years...

I was barely sixteen.

Vincent had been younger too, but even then there was something unmistakable about him.

That same cold stare.

That same presence.

I picked up the photograph again.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked my dad on the picture as if he could answer me.

A soft knock came from the door.

I quickly slipped the photograph beneath my pillow.

"Come in." Teresa entered.

"Good morning, Elara." she greeted.

"Morning." my eyes followed her as she placed a tray on the table.

"Mr. Moretti asked that you have breakfast in your room."

I looked at her. My brows furrowed.

"He's home?"

"No."

"Then why would he bother you to make me breakfast in bed?"

She just slightly smiled.

"Because he knows you don't eat when you're upset."

I felt my cheeks heat up.

"How does he know that?" I asked shyly.

Teresa's smile faded.

"Because Mr. Moretti notices everything." I looked at her and nodded my head.

Of course he did. I turned my sight at the breakfast she placed on the table.

"Teresa?" I called her.

"Yes?"

"Do you know how long Vincent has known my father?"

Her expression changed. shocked I guess.

Only slightly.

But I noticed.

"Do you know Teresa? can you at least tell me what's their connection is?"

She looked away.

"I don't know anything about business matters."

"That's not what I meant." she stayed quiet.

"Please Teresa?" She sighed like a sign of surrender.

"Yes they knew each other." she started,

"How long?"

"I don't know."

"Teresa." My voice pleaded her.

She looked at me.

"I've worked for the Moretti family for twenty-two years."

My stomach tightened.

"Then you must know something!"

"I know better than to speak about things Mr. Moretti doesn't want to be discussed." She turned to leave.

"Wait."

She stopped. "I saw a woman in the photograph. it's his mother, Wasn't it ?"

Teresa went completely still. Then she looked back at me.

"How did you—"

"I saw it in the library." I cut her off.

Her face softened. As if she remembered something nice about that woman.

"Yes."

"And the boy with her?"

"Mr. Moretti's younger brother." I swallowed.

"What happened to them?"

Teresa's eyes lowered.

"That's a story I don't have the right to tell."

Then she left. I stared at the closed door. Another secret.

Another unanswered question. I was beginning to hate this house—No, I really hate it to the point I wanna leave right now.

---

After I ate my breakfast, I went on my room's veranda. I looked at the beautiful Garden below me, To be honest, It's the only nice thing here in this place. I could breathe whenever I lay my eyes on those beautiful flowers and the fountain in the middle. It calms my mind.

but then another thought came across my brain. that's when I decide to call my father.

He answered on the fourth ring.

"Elara?"

"Papa." There was a long pause.

"Are you okay?" I laughed quietly.

"Do I sound okay?"

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want another apology."

"Do you need something, honey?" I pause before answering him.

"The truth." Silence...

I pulled the photograph in my robe's pocket.

"I found something." I added.

My father's breathing changed. I could smell his nervousness even from here.

"You've known Vincent Moretti even before Business."

"Elara—"

"How long is it, pa?" No answer.

"How long have you known him?" My father's voice became quiet.

"Years." My fingers tightened around the photograph.

"Almost ten years." he added.

My chest tightened.

"So this wasn't the first time you met him."

"No."

"And you never told me."

"I was trying to protect you."

"From what? from all your lies?"

He didn't answer.

"Papa."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that!"

My voice broke.

"You keep saying you're sorry, but you won't tell me what you did!"

"I didn't do what you think I did."

"Then tell me what happened." Another silence.

Finally, he said,

"Vincent's father and I were partners." I frowned.

"Partners?"

"In business."

"Moretti and Laurent?"

"Yes."

I looked at the photograph again.

"What happened?"

"Things went wrong."

"How?"

He hesitated.

"There was an incident."

"What incident?"

"I can't talk about it right now, sweetie."

My heart sank.

"Why?"

"Because if Vincent knows you asked me about it—"

I stopped breathing.

"What?"

My father's voice dropped.

"Elara, listen to me carefully."

"Papa..."

"Don't trust everything Vincent tells you."

I stared blankly into the distance.

"Why?"

"Because the Moretti's don't forgive." I swallowed.

"And Us?" He didn't answer.I understood. We had done something. Something serious.

"Papa..."

"I'm sorry." The call ended. I lowered my phone slowly.

My hands were shaking. For the first time, I wasn't wondering whether Vincent had a hidden reason for marrying me.

I was wondering whether my father had known this day would come.

---

That afternoon, I found Vincent in the library.

He was standing near the window, reading a file.

I stopped at the doorway. I was about to leave when he

He looked up and started talking.

"Are you avoiding me?"

"I didn't, I just don't want to disturb your business." I was about to turn around but what he said stopped me.

"How did you find out your father has known me for years?"

I walked inside.

"what's your connection with my father?"

His expression didn't change.

"answering a question with a question. clever." he smirked.

"Why keep it from me?"

"You didn't ask Elara."

"I asked you why you chose me." He closed the file. eyes on me.

"That's different."

"Is it? really?" I held up the photograph.

His eyes immediately went to it. I saw something dangerous crossed his face.

"Where did you get that?" his voice was low. and I don't know why it brings chill down my spines.

"It doesn't matter,Vincent. Why don't you just answer me."

"It matters to me."

"Why?" He walked toward me.

"Because that photograph was never supposed to leave this room." I stepped backward.

"who gave that damn photo to you?" His eyes narrowed.

"I don't know."

"say it, Elara. Or you will regret it." I felt my bones trembled. I didn't do anything but why do I feel scared when he acts like this.

"I-I just found it outside my bedroom." His jaw tightened.

"Did you saw anyone?"

"No."

"Good."

I frowned.

"Why?"

He took the photograph from my hand.

"Because whoever left this wanted you to start asking questions. And that's the biggest mistake he's ever made."

"But they were right." He looked at me.

"You shouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because some truths destroy people."

"But I'm already destroyed, Vincent."

The words came out before I could stop them.

His expression softened for a fraction of a second.

Then it was gone.

"My family is ruined." He said nothing.

"And my father won't tell me the truth."

Still nothing.

"And you..." I stepped closer. I looked up at him.

"You know everything." He looked down at me.

"Not everything, Elara."

I searched his face.

"Did my father hurt your family?" Silence.

That was all the answer I needed.

My stomach dropped.

"What did he do?" Vincent looked away.

"Not tonight."

I grabbed his sleeve.

"Don't walk away from me." He looked down at my hand.

I immediately released him.

He didn't move.

Then he said quietly,

"Your father made a choice."

"What choice?"

"A choice that costs my family everything."

I stared at him.

"Did someone die?" His eyes met mine.

"Yes."

My breath caught.

"Who?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he stepped closer.

Close enough that I could see the faint scar near his eyebrow.

"Your father isn't the only one keeping secrets, Elara."

I looked at him.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you should stop believing that you're innocent simply because you didn't know."

My brows furrowed.

"I didn't do anything."

"I know."

His answer came so quickly that I froze.

"You know?"

"Yes."

"Then why am I paying for it?"

His expression hardened.

"Because sometimes innocent people inherit the consequences of other people's choices."

I stared at him.

"Is that why you married me?"

He didn't answer.

"Vincent."

He walked past me.

my eyes followed his back.

"Was I part of your plan from the beginning?"

He stopped. For several seconds, his back remained toward me.

Then he said,

"The contract was written long before your family became bankrupt."

My blood ran cold.

"What?"

He finally looked at me.

"Your family's debt was only the opportunity."

My heart stopped.

"Then what was the plan?"

His eyes held mine.

"You." I dumbfounded.

He walked out. I stood frozen in the middle of the library.

And suddenly, everything I thought I knew about my marriage changed.

The debt wasn't the reason Vincent came for me.

It was the excuse.

But if that was true...

How long has Vincent Moretti been planning to make me his wife? And why me?