Chapter 3: FLASHBACK - Memories of Yesterday

Sebastian went to his office and closed the door behind him.

The silence there was different from the rest of the house—denser, heavier. He poured himself another whiskey, his third of the night, and sank into the leather armchair behind the desk.

Karen was safe in the guest room, and Peter didn’t know where she was. Everything was under control.

So why were his hands still shaking slightly?

He looked at his left wrist, where the tattoo was 385900 SM. remained like a permanent scar. No matter how many expensive watches he wore to hide it—it was still there. It always would be.

Saint Mary.

And then, without warning, the memory hit him.

Eighteen years ago. Saint Mary’s Orphanage.

Sebastian sat in the infirmary, holding an ice pack against his left eye. It hurt like hell, but he wouldn’t let anyone see it. He wouldn’t cry. He never cried.

Mrs. Malcolm stood beside him, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. She was strict, always had been, but there was kindness hidden in those tired eyes.

“Sebastian, your father is coming to pick you up today,” she said in a firm voice. 

His heart skipped a beat—fear and hope mixed in equal parts. Father. The word still sounded strange. He barely knew the man.

“And why did you get into a fight?” Mrs. Malcolm continued, “He won’t be happy.”

Sebastian lowered the ice pack, revealing the bruise already forming around his eye.

“They called my mother a prostitute.”

It had been in the refectory. Two older boys, laughing at him, saying his mother had sold her body, and that was why he was there. That no real father wanted him.

Sebastian had broken one of their noses.

Mrs. Malcolm sighed, but she didn’t scold him. Instead, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Your mother was a good woman, Sebastian. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Before he could reply, the infirmary door swung open.

Nurse Nancy rushed in, a bundle of pink blankets in her arms. She looked exhausted, her hair escaping from its bun, her eyes red.

“She’s here,” Nancy announced to Mrs. Malcolm.

Inside the blankets was a tiny baby. She couldn’t have been more than a few days old. Her eyes were closed, her fists clenched, completely oblivious to the world that had abandoned her.

Mrs. Malcolm approached, looking at the child with that expression Sebastian already knew—pity mixed with anger at what the world did to the innocent.

“Poor child,” she murmured.

“She’s richer than all of us,” Nurse Nancy said with a bitter laugh.

Mrs. Malcolm shot a warning glance that was ignored.

“We can’t judge anyone; we should just take the children in.”

Nancy was too indignant to remain silent.

“These rich men have children out of wedlock and then leave them here as if they were trash.” Her voice was laden with years of pent-up frustration. “Meanwhile, the family fortune remains untouched, waiting for heirs they really want.”

“Nancy, shut up.”

“She’s a Salvatore,” Nancy whispered. “That casino family... they say their blood runs thick with the money that—”

The older woman paled. “Don’t mention names!”

Nancy ignored the scolding, lowering her eyes to the baby in her arms and smiling tenderly. As she placed her on the stretcher, the blanket opened, revealing her thin little arms.

“What’s that on her arm?” Mrs. Malcom asked.

“A birthmark on her shoulder—a lucky star.”

Sebastian looked at the baby—so small, so helpless. She had no choice. None of them did. They were born in the wrong places, to the wrong people, and now they were here. Discarded.

“Salvatore,” he repeated softly, committing the name to memory without quite knowing why.

Mrs. Malcolm turned to him, her eyes hard.

“You didn’t hear anything here, understand, Sebastian? Nothing.”

He nodded slowly.

“I didn’t hear anything,” he replied.

“Sebastian, go wash your face and present yourself decently to your father. You’re going home today.”

Home. A strange word.

Sebastian stood up, casting one last glance at the baby wrapped in pink blankets. She had opened her eyes—large, dark, lost. And in the pink burrow, he saw the nurse writing with a pen.

A name: Karen.

Sebastian blinked, and the memory dissolved.

He was back in his office, in the silent mansion, with warm whiskey in his hand.

Salvatore.

The name echoed in his mind like a distant bell.

Eighteen years old. That baby would be eighteen now. And Karen... Karen was eighteen. She had left Saint Mary’s six months ago. She had a tattoo on her wrist.

“She’s richer than all of us.”

Sebastian stood up abruptly and dialed a number he knew by heart. Three rings. Four. He glanced at the clock—it was past midnight, but that had never been a problem before.

“Sterling, it must be important.” The voice on the other end sounded alert despite the hour. Richard Chen never slept when money was involved.

“I need information. Now... Salvatore Family Trust. I want to know everything.”

Pause. Sebastian could hear the creak of a chair, the sound of a computer being turned on.

“Alessandro Salvatore. Dead for... fifteen years. Suspicious car accident. His wife, Isabela Salvatore, died with him. They left behind a son—Pietro Salvatore, seven years old, who also died later, but there are rumors that he had another daughter.”

“I’ve heard those rumors,” he said, without emotion. “Where is she?”

“Presumed dead. The body was never found. There are records that Alessandro had an affair with a nurse, but nothing has been proven.”

Then Sebastian smiled with satisfaction.

“I think today is my lucky day; I found her.”

“Where?” the lawyer asked, surprised.

Sebastian set his glass down on the table, his gaze fixed on some distant point.

“She was running away from my brother, but she’s in my guest room now.”

The other man asked incredulously, “Are you sure?”

“Not yet. That’s why I need your help to confirm her identity.”

“And what do you intend to do, Sebastian?”

Sebastian laughed scornfully. His tone was calm, almost casual—and precisely because of that, more threatening.

“I’m going to marry her.”

The man let out a brief, disbelieving laugh. “I never imagined I’d hear that from you.”

Sebastian just smiled—a cold smile.

“I’ll marry her, and the Salvatores’ casinos will become mine by right. Then I’ll divorce her.”

“What if she doesn’t agree?”

“She’ll agree,” he replied calmly. “She’s dumb, naïve. And she believes the world can still be a good place.”

“I’ll spend the night gathering information, and tomorrow I’ll send you the full report.”