Chapter two

THE WOMAN WHO SHOULD BE DEAD

“Amelie, your mother is alive. And she’s the reason I agreed to marry you.”

For several seconds, I forgot how to breathe.

Rain hammered against my bedroom windows as I stared at Gio Locatelli, waiting for him to take back those words.

He didn’t.

“My mother is dead.”

“That’s what you were told.”

“I buried her.”

“No. You buried an empty coffin.”

My stomach twisted.

Suddenly, I remembered the funeral. The white flowers, my black dress and my father’s hand gripping my shoulder when I begged to see her face.

You don’t need that memory, sweetheart.

Eight years later, those words sounded less like comfort and more like a warning.

“Why would he lie to me?”

“Because your mother needed to disappear.”

“From whom?”

Gio’s jaw tightened.

“Ask your father.”

I threw a cushion at him.

“Stop treating my life like some bloody secret! You appear in my house, tell me my dead mother is alive, and expect me to remain calm?”

“I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“Then perhaps you should start telling me the truth!”

He stepped closer.

“Listen carefully. Whoever contacted you knows things they shouldn’t. Don’t reply to their messages, and don’t assume they’re trying to help you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

For the first time, his expression softened.

“Because your mother trusted me with the one thing she couldn’t afford to lose.”

“Which is?”

“You.”

He left before I could ask another question.

I locked the door behind him and checked my phone.

One message.

UNKNOWN: Did he tell you why she left?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

ME: Who are you?

The reply came immediately.

UNKNOWN: Someone who remembers the night your mother begged your father to let you go.

Before I could respond, the conversation disappeared.

Every message. Every photograph. Gone.

Someone was watching my phone.

And suddenly, Gio wasn’t the only person I had reasons to fear.

At 6:45 the following morning, I entered my father’s study without knocking.

Daniel Pearce looked up from his coffee.

“Amelie. You’re awake early.”

“Where is my mother?”

His cup stopped halfway to his mouth.

That was enough.

“You knew,” I whispered.

“Sit down.”

“No. I’ve spent eight years sitting quietly while everyone lied to me.”

He placed the cup on his desk.

“Your mother made a decision.”

“To abandon her daughter?”

“To protect you.”

I laughed, but tears were already gathering in my eyes.

“You let me mourn a woman who was alive. I visited her grave, Dad. I cried over her coffin. Did you ever feel guilty?”

His expression cracked.

“Every single day.”

“Then tell me where she is.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

He walked towards the window.

“The Locatellis have enemies, Amelie. Enemies powerful enough to destroy everything we own.”

“And what does that have to do with Mum?”

“Everything.”

I grabbed the edge of his desk.

“Why must I marry Gio?”

“Because when the war begins, his family will be the only thing standing between you and the people coming for you.”

“What war?”

He turned.

“The one your mother disappeared to prevent.”

My blood ran cold.

Before I could demand another explanation, he added something that hurt even more.

“The wedding is no longer optional.”

I stared at him.

“Then you can marry Gio yourself.”

I walked out before he could answer.

Margaret was in the kitchen arranging breakfast when I found her.

“Did you know my mother was alive?”

The tray slipped slightly in her hands.

That was my answer.

“How long?”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Since the night she left.”

I felt something inside me break.

“You watched me cry at her funeral.”

“I’m sorry, child.”

“You watched me visit her grave for eight years!”

Margaret reached into her apron and produced a small silver key.

“Your mother left this for you. She told me to give it to you when the truth began to surface.”

“What does it open?”

“Her study.”

My mother’s study had remained locked since her funeral.

I took the key.

For the first time that morning, Margaret looked genuinely frightened.

“Whatever you find in there, remember that your mother loved you.”

I swallowed.

“Then why did she leave me?”

Margaret lowered her eyes.

She had no answer.

The smell of lavender greeted me as I unlocked the study.

Everything remained untouched. Her books, her favourite armchair and the photographs on the mantelpiece.

I stopped before one showing her holding me as a baby.

For a moment, I wanted to crawl into that photograph and never come out.

Instead, I searched the desk.

The bottom drawer opened with the silver key.

Inside were several documents, a leather notebook and an old photograph.

My mother stood beside my father in a garden. Between them was a little girl in a white dress.

Me.

But standing behind them was another man.

Gio’s father.

I recognised him from the Locatelli family portraits.

I opened the notebook.

Most pages contained names and dates. Then I found an entry written three days before my mother’s supposed death.

If anything happens to me, Daniel must never let Amelie marry the Locatellis.

My heart began pounding.

“Where did you find that?”

I spun around.

Gio stood in the doorway.

His eyes settled on the notebook.

“Put it down, Amelie.”

“No. Start explaining.”

He entered slowly.

“Your mother knew something about my father.”

“What?”

“My father was murdered.”

I stared at him.

“He died years ago.”

“His death was made to look natural. It wasn’t.”

“Who killed him?”

“That’s what I’ve spent years trying to discover.”

I held up the photograph.

“Why were our parents together?”

Gio looked at it for a long moment.

“Because our families were connected long before we were born.”

“And my mother wanted to keep us apart.”

“Yes.”

I slipped the notebook into my handbag.

“I’m finding her.”

“You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

“Neither do you, apparently.”

His phone vibrated.

He checked the screen.

The colour drained from his face.

“What happened?”

He turned the phone towards me.

A photograph showed the entrance to our estate.

Beside the gates stood a woman in a red coat.

Her face was hidden beneath a hood.

But I recognised the silver bracelet on her wrist.

My mother had worn it every day of my childhood.

The photograph had been taken less than ten minutes earlier.

A message appeared beneath it.

SHE KNOWS YOU HAVE THE NOTEBOOK.

Then another.

IF YOU WANT YOUR MOTHER BACK, COME ALONE.

My breathing became uneven.

A final message arrived.

ASK YOUR HUSBAND-TO-BE WHY HE WAS THE LAST PERSON YOUR MOTHER TRIED TO KILL.

I slowly raised my eyes towards Gio.

He wasn’t looking at the photograph anymore.

He was looking at me.

“Amelie,” he said quietly, “whatever you do, don’t go near that woman.”

“Why?”

His jaw tightened.

“Because the last time your mother held a gun, she was pointing it at me.”

I stepped backwards.

Before I could speak, a gunshot exploded outside.

Gio pulled me against his chest and reached for his weapon.

Then a woman’s voice came through the security intercom.

“Tell my daughter I’m home.”

I stopped breathing.

It was my mother.

But the next words she spoke changed everything.

“And Gio, darling, I hope you haven’t fallen in love with her.”

A pause.

“Because if you have, I’ll have to kill you before the wedding.”

END OF CHAPTER TWO