The Truth About My Mother

Chapter Eighteen

The doors slammed shut behind us.

Darkness swallowed the entire house.

I heard Damien move.

His hand tightened around mine, pulling me behind him.

"Stay close."

My mother's voice came from somewhere ahead.

"Still protecting her."

Damien's voice was cold.

"Still threatening her."

A soft laugh echoed through the darkness.

"I'm not threatening my daughter."

"You brought her here."

"I asked her to come."

"You knew what would happen."

There was a pause.

Then my mother's voice softened.

"I knew she would come because she deserves the truth."

A small light flickered on.

Then another.

Candles.

Dozens of them.

They illuminated the enormous room around us.

My mother stood in the center.

She looked exactly like the photographs.

Only older.

There were faint lines around her eyes, and her hair was longer than I remembered.

But she was unmistakably her.

My mother.

Alive.

I stared at her.

"You left me."

Her face crumpled.

"I know."

"You let me think you were dead."

"I know."

"You watched me grow up."

"From a distance."

"You knew when I graduated."

She nodded.

"You knew when Dad got sick."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Yes."

"You knew I was working at the club."

Her expression changed.

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you come back?"

She took a step toward me.

"Because every time I thought about coming home, someone reminded me what would happen if I did."

"Who?"

She looked at Damien.

"His family."

Damien's expression hardened.

"My family?"

"Your father."

"My father is dead."

"His shadow isn't."

She looked at me again.

"For years, I believed I could protect you by staying away."

I laughed bitterly.

"Protect me?"

"I was wrong."

"You were."

The words came out sharper than I'd intended.

My mother flinched.

I hated seeing it.

But I couldn't stop.

"Do you know what it was like?"

"I can imagine."

"No."

I shook my head.

"You can't."

Tears blurred my vision.

"I thought you were dead."

"I know."

"I missed you."

Her lips trembled.

"I missed you every day."

"Then why didn't you come home?"

"Because I was afraid they'd use you to get to me."

"They already did."

She closed her eyes.

"I know."

"Because of your secrets."

"Yes."

"Because of the ledger."

"Yes."

"And because of Damien."

She looked at him.

"Especially because of Damien."

He stepped forward.

"What did I do?"

My mother studied him.

"Nothing."

"Then why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you."

"Your eyes say otherwise."

She sighed.

"I don't hate the man you are."

She paused.

"I hate the man you were raised to become."

Damien's jaw tightened.

"My father."

"Yes."

"What did he do to you?"

My mother looked at me.

"He killed the woman I was."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"Your mother died twenty years ago."

She touched her chest.

"The woman standing here survived."

I didn't understand.

She continued.

"Marcello De Luca destroyed everything I believed in."

"What happened?"

She looked at Damien.

"Your father wanted control of the Black Circle."

Damien's expression changed.

"He wasn't the leader?"

"No."

"He wanted to be."

She nodded.

"Adrian Vasile controlled everything."

"The man in the photograph."

"Yes."

"Then why did my father work for him?"

"Because everyone did."

My mother walked toward a table.

She picked up a glass of water.

"Your father was an accountant. I was a financial analyst. We thought we were working for a legitimate company."

She gave a bitter smile.

"By the time we understood what we'd become part of, it was too late."

Damien listened silently.

"What did you discover?"

"The ledger."

"What's so important about it?"

"Everything."

She looked at me.

"The ledger doesn't only record money."

"I know."

"It records who betrayed whom."

She paused.

"And who ordered the killings."

My stomach dropped.

"Names?"

"Names."

She set the glass down.

"Your father's name is in it."

I looked toward Damien.

He didn't move.

"My father's?"

"Yes."

"What did he do?"

My mother looked at him.

"Marcello ordered your mother's death."

Damien's face went completely blank.

"Why?"

"Because I was going to expose him."

"What about Antonio?"

"He tried to stop him."

My mother's voice cracked.

"Your father was willing to die for me."

I swallowed.

"And you?"

"I survived."

She looked away.

"Someone helped me escape."

"Who?"

"Adrian."

Damien stiffened.

"The Black Circle leader?"

She nodded.

"Why would he help you?"

"Because he wanted something."

"The ledger."

"Yes."

My mother looked at me.

"I had copied part of it before I ran."

"Where is it?"

She smiled sadly.

"With you."

I frowned.

"What?"

She pointed toward my chest.

"Not physically."

She walked closer.

"The key your father gave you doesn't open a locker."

I reached into my pocket.

"Then what does it open?"

"A box."

"Where?"

She looked toward the staircase.

"Your old bedroom."

I froze.

"My bedroom?"

"You lived here."

I stared at the house.

"No."

"You were born here."

My heart raced.

"You said the De Lucas wanted me."

"Your father brought you here once."

"Why?"

"Because he thought Marcello would protect you."

Damien's expression hardened.

"My father knew she existed."

"He knew everything."

"Why didn't he kill her?"

My mother looked at him.

"Because he couldn't."

"Why?"

"Because your mother wasn't his weakness."

She looked at me.

"You were."

Silence.

Damien's eyes darkened.

"That's why he wanted her."

My mother nodded.

"That's why I ran."

I looked at Damien.

"You've been protecting me from people who wanted to use me."

"Yes."

"And your father was one of them."

"Yes."

I swallowed.

"Why did you agree to marry me?"

He looked at me.

"Because I knew what would happen if I didn't."

My mother interrupted.

"No."

Damien turned.

She shook her head.

"That's not the only reason."

He stared at her.

"You don't know my reasons."

"I know you."

"You knew me when I was a child."

"I knew your father."

"That's different."

"No."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You're becoming more like him than you realize."

Damien's expression hardened.

"Don't."

"You have his anger."

"I said don't."

"His instincts."

"Enough."

"And his obsession with control."

The room became silent.

I stepped between them.

"Stop."

They both looked at me.

I turned toward Damien.

"She's right about one thing."

His eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"You don't have to control everything."

He looked at me for several seconds.

Then looked away.

My mother watched us.

Something in her expression softened.

"You love him."

I froze.

"What?"

She smiled sadly.

"I can see it."

"I don't."

My mother looked at Damien.

He didn't deny it either.

That scared me.

She sighed.

"That's what I was afraid of."

I frowned.

"Why?"

"Because loving a De Luca is dangerous."

Damien's voice was quiet.

"Not if it's me."

My mother looked at him.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I do."

"Then you know what happens to anyone who gets close to us."

"I know."

"And you still want her?"

He looked at me.

"Yes."

My heart stopped.

My mother closed her eyes.

"Then God help you both."

I couldn't breathe.

Damien stepped closer.

"Where is the box?"

She looked at him.

"Upstairs."

We started toward the staircase.

Then my mother stopped me.

"Lena."

I turned.

"Yes?"

She reached into her pocket.

She pulled out an old photograph.

She handed it to me.

I looked down.

It was a photograph of me as a baby.

My mother was holding me.

My father stood beside her.

And behind them—

Marcello De Luca.

My breath caught.

He was smiling.

His hand rested on my father's shoulder.

And in his other hand was something I recognized.

A small silver key.

The same symbol was engraved into it.

A circle.

Cut through the middle.

The Black Circle.

I looked at my mother.

"What is this?"

Her face became pale.

"The day you were born."

"Why was Marcello here?"

She looked at Damien.

"Because he was the first person to hold you."

Damien stared at the photograph.

His face went rigid.

My mother continued.

"And before he left..."

She swallowed.

"He made your father promise that one day you would belong to his family."

I felt sick.

"What?"

My mother nodded.

"That's why your marriage to Damien isn't a coincidence."

Damien stared at her.

"What are you saying?"

She looked directly at him.

"Your father arranged this twenty years ago."

Silence.

My heart stopped.

"No."

My mother nodded.

"Before you were born, Marcello decided that one day Lena would become a De Luca."

I looked at Damien.

He looked as stunned as I felt.

"But why?"

My mother whispered:

"Because your father wasn't the only one who knew about the ledger."

She turned toward the staircase.

"Someone else knew."

"Who?"

She looked at Damien.

"Your father."

Damien's eyes narrowed.

"And he didn't want the ledger."

My mother took a breath.

"He wanted what was written on the final page."

"What?"

"The name of the person who truly controlled the Black Circle."

I stared at her.

"Who?"

My mother looked toward the dark hallway upstairs.

"That's what's inside the box."

A sudden sound came from above us.

A floorboard creaked.

We all froze.

Damien immediately drew his gun.

"Someone's here."

My mother looked frightened for the first time.

"That's impossible."

Another creak.

Then footsteps.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Coming down the hallway above us.

Damien moved in front of me.

My mother reached for something beneath her jacket.

I stared at her.

"Mom?"

She pulled out a gun.

My heart stopped.

"You carry a gun?"

She gave me a sad smile.

"I've been surviving for nineteen years."

The footsteps stopped.

Then a man's voice echoed through the house.

"Elena."

My mother went pale.

Damien raised his weapon.

"Who is that?"

She whispered one name.

"Adrian."

The man stepped into view at the top of the staircase.

Silver hair.

Expensive black suit.

Cold eyes.

The same man from the photograph.

The man who was supposed to have died twenty years ago.

He smiled.

"Hello, Elena."

Then his gaze moved to me.

"And hello, little Lena."

Damien stepped forward.

"Stay away from her."

Adrian smiled.

"I was wondering when you would finally discover the truth about your family."

He descended one step.

Then another.

"Your father spent twenty years trying to hide it."

His eyes settled on me.

"But he never understood one thing."

"What?"

Adrian smiled.

"The ledger was never the prize."

He looked at Damien.

"You were."

Damien's expression hardened.

"Me?"

Adrian nodded.

"Your father didn't want Lena to marry you because she was leverage."

He took another step.

"He wanted her to marry you because, together, you two possess something neither of you even knows you have."

My heart pounded.

"What?"

Adrian's smile widened.

"The key."

I touched the pocket where it rested.

"The key doesn't open the box."

He looked directly at me.

"It opens the truth."

Then every light in the house came on at once.

And behind Adrian stood six armed men.