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Chapter Seventeen

I couldn't move.

My mother's face existed only in fragments inside my memory.

A smile.

A perfume I could no longer remember.

A soft voice singing while she cooked.

The warmth of her arms around me.

Then the funeral.

The black dress my father had made me wear.

The flowers.

The photograph beside the coffin.

Except there had never been a body.

I'd been too young to understand why.

My father had told me the hospital couldn't let me see her.

He had told me the accident had been terrible.

He had told me she was gone.

For nineteen years, I'd believed him.

Now a man who had just tried to kill us was standing in front of me, smiling as though he'd handed me a gift.

"She's alive," I whispered.

Marcus didn't answer.

I stepped closer.

"Where is she?"

Damien immediately caught my wrist.

"Lena."

I pulled away.

"Where is my mother?"

Marcus smiled.

"That's the question, isn't it?"

"Tell me."

"She wants you to come to her."

"Where?"

"Home."

I shook my head.

"That's not a place."

"It is to her."

"Where?"

Marcus glanced at Damien.

"She told me you wouldn't come alone."

Damien's expression hardened.

"She's right."

Marcus laughed.

"She knew you would protect her."

I froze.

"She knows about him?"

"She knows everything."

Damien stepped forward.

"What does she want?"

Marcus looked at him.

"The same thing everyone wants."

"The ledger?"

"The truth."

I frowned.

"Then why did she take my father?"

"She didn't take him."

"Then where is he?"

"He went willingly."

"No."

"He did."

Marcus's smile faded.

"Your father has been waiting twenty years for this."

I stared at him.

"Waiting for what?"

"To see her again."

My heart shattered.

My father had known.

All these years, he'd known she was alive.

He'd mourned her in front of me.

He'd let me believe she was dead.

And perhaps he'd been seeing her in secret.

I turned toward Damien.

"My father lied."

He nodded.

"I know."

"He knew."

"Yes."

"Everyone knew."

"No."

I looked at him.

"Did you?"

He shook his head.

"No."

"Your father?"

"I don't know."

Marcus laughed.

"Marcello knew."

Damien's face became cold.

"When?"

"From the beginning."

I watched Damien's expression.

Something inside him seemed to crack.

His father had known my mother was alive.

His father had known about the ledger.

His father had known about me.

And Damien had been kept in the dark.

Again.

"Where is she?" Damien asked.

Marcus looked at him.

"She gave me coordinates."

"Give them to me."

"No."

Damien raised his weapon.

Marcus didn't flinch.

"Kill me."

I stared at him.

"What?"

"Go ahead."

He smiled.

"If you kill me, you'll never find them."

Damien's eyes narrowed.

"You're bluffing."

"No."

Marcus reached slowly into his pocket.

Damien immediately raised his weapon.

"Slowly."

Marcus pulled out a small envelope.

He held it between two fingers.

"She told me to give this to Lena."

I looked at it.

My name was written across the front.

In handwriting I recognized.

My mother's.

I stopped breathing.

"How do you have that?"

"She gave it to me."

Damien took the envelope.

Marcus immediately laughed.

"She said it had to be opened by her daughter."

Damien looked at me.

I nodded.

He handed it to me.

My hands shook as I opened it.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

I unfolded it.

The first words destroyed the last piece of certainty I had.

My little Lena,

I pressed the paper against my chest.

My eyes filled with tears.

My mother had written to me.

Not a memory.

Not a photograph.

A letter.

Now.

For me.

I read.

If you're reading this, then everything I feared has happened. Your father finally told you the truth.

I looked at Marcus.

Then Damien.

I continued.

I'm sorry.

Two words.

So simple.

So painful.

I know you have spent your entire life believing I abandoned you. I didn't.

A sob escaped my throat.

Damien stepped closer.

I kept reading.

I stayed away because the people who wanted me dead were watching you. Every time I wanted to come back, I was reminded that your life depended on my absence.

My vision blurred.

Your father chose to protect you by letting you hate a dead woman rather than become the daughter of a living target.

I wiped my tears.

I don't know if that was the right choice. I only know that I made mine.

I swallowed.

There is something you must understand about Damien De Luca.

My eyes lifted.

Damien was watching me.

I read the next line.

He is not his father.

My heart stopped.

The room became silent.

I continued.

But he has spent his entire life believing he has to become him.

Damien's jaw tightened.

I looked at him.

He looked away.

Don't punish him for the sins of a man he never chose to become.

My fingers trembled.

Then came the sentence that made my stomach twist.

And don't trust him blindly either.

I stared at the words.

He has secrets. You will discover them. Some will hurt you. Some may save you. But you must decide for yourself who he is.

I looked at Damien again.

He didn't ask what it said.

He simply waited.

I continued.

The ledger isn't what they think it is.

My heart began racing.

It doesn't only contain payments. It contains names. Births. Deaths. Agreements. Betrayals. And one secret that could destroy the Black Circle forever.

I turned the page.

There was only one final sentence.

Come to the house where you were born. Come before midnight. Come with Damien.

My breath caught.

At the bottom was an address.

I recognized the name immediately.

"That's impossible."

Damien looked at me.

"What?"

I handed him the letter.

He read it.

His expression changed.

"What's wrong?"

He looked at me.

"You were born there?"

I nodded.

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"My father told me once."

I stared at the address.

"The old De Luca estate."

Marcus smiled.

"Exactly."

Damien looked at him.

"You knew."

"I know everything she wants you to know."

"Who else is there?"

Marcus shrugged.

"Maybe your mother."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe someone else."

Damien's expression hardened.

"You're coming with us."

Marcus laughed.

"No."

"You don't have a choice."

"I do."

He suddenly pulled something from his sleeve.

A small blade.

Before Damien could react, Marcus drove it toward his own neck.

I screamed.

Damien grabbed his wrist.

The blade dropped.

Victor rushed forward and restrained him.

"Take him."

Marcus fought against them.

"You don't understand!"

Damien looked at him.

"What?"

"She isn't waiting for you."

Damien went still.

Marcus smiled.

"She's waiting for Lena."

I felt cold.

"What does that mean?"

Marcus looked at me.

"Your mother doesn't want Damien."

He paused.

"She wants her daughter."

Damien's expression became unreadable.

"Take him."

Victor dragged Marcus away.

The door slammed behind them.

Silence.

I looked at Damien.

"Do you think he's telling the truth?"

"I don't know."

"Are we going?"

He looked at the letter.

Then at me.

"Yes."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

"But you will."

"Yes."

"Why?"

He stepped closer.

"Because I'm not letting you walk into that house alone."

I smiled faintly.

"You know my mother specifically asked you to come."

"I noticed."

"Maybe she wants to meet you."

His expression darkened.

"Maybe."

"Are you afraid?"

He looked at me.

"Yes."

The honesty surprised me.

"Of her?"

"No."

"Then what?"

He looked toward the window.

"I'm afraid of what I'll find."

I understood.

His entire life had been built around his father's legacy.

If his father had lied about everything...

What did that make Damien?

I reached for his hand.

He looked down.

Then at me.

"You're sure?"

I nodded.

"Yes."

His fingers closed around mine.

"I don't know what happens after tonight."

"Neither do I."

"But whatever we find..."

He squeezed my hand.

"We face it together."

I nodded.

The drive to the old De Luca estate was silent.

Rain began falling against the windows.

The city disappeared behind us.

Eventually, even the streetlights became scarce.

The estate sat deep inside a forest.

The gates were open.

That was the first thing that frightened me.

Damien noticed too.

"They're expecting us."

"Should we turn around?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because whoever opened those gates wants us inside."

I looked at him.

"That's not reassuring."

"It's not supposed to be."

The car stopped in front of the house.

I stared at it.

Something inside me felt strangely familiar.

The stone walls.

The tall windows.

The iron balconies.

I had never been here.

Yet I knew it.

A strange sensation moved through me.

Like remembering a dream.

I stepped out.

Damien immediately came around the vehicle.

He took my hand.

We walked toward the front door.

It opened before we reached it.

Nobody stood there.

Damien stopped.

"Lena."

"What?"

"Stay behind me."

We entered.

The hallway was dark.

Dust covered the furniture.

But there were fresh flowers on the table.

Someone was living here.

Or had been here recently.

A grandfather clock ticked in the distance.

Then a woman's voice came from upstairs.

Soft.

Familiar.

My heart stopped.

"Lena."

I couldn't breathe.

Damien's hand tightened around mine.

The voice came again.

"My little girl."

I looked up.

A woman appeared at the top of the staircase.

Dark hair.

Pale skin.

The same eyes.

The same smile.

My mother's eyes.

My mother's smile.

My knees nearly gave out.

"No..."

The woman began walking down the stairs.

Tears filled her eyes.

"Lena."

I couldn't move.

She reached the bottom.

She stood a few feet away.

Nineteen years of grief collided with one impossible moment.

"Mom?"

Her lips trembled.

"Yes."

I started crying.

She opened her arms.

I wanted to run to her.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to ask why.

Instead, I stood frozen.

Then she whispered:

"I've waited nineteen years for you."

I took one step forward.

Then stopped.

Because something was wrong.

My mother's eyes moved past me.

Toward Damien.

And the warmth disappeared.

Her expression became cold.

"Leave him."

Damien stepped forward.

"No."

My mother looked at him.

"Then you're going to learn why your father was afraid of me."

The doors behind us slammed shut.

And every light in the house went out.