Chapter 13: The Phone That Rang At 2:17

The storm refused to end.

Hours seemed to pass in fragments of rain, firelight, and unanswered questions.

Zara had stopped trying to make sense of the timeline. Wedding. Archive. Gunshots. Isabella. The river. The vineyard.

It felt less like one night and more like several lives stitched together badly.

Adrian eventually stood and disappeared into the small kitchen. She heard cupboards opening, water running, the muted clink of ceramic.

When he returned, he carried two mugs.

“Coffee,” he said.

Zara accepted one carefully.

It was strong, bitter, and unexpectedly good.

“You keep emergency coffee in abandoned properties too?”

“Now that,” Adrian said, sitting across from her, “is completely normal behavior.”

The faint smile that followed surprised both of them.

For a moment, the cottage almost felt safe.

Then the clock on the wall ticked to 2:17 a.m.

And Adrian’s phone rang.

Both of them froze.

The sound was unnaturally loud in the quiet room.

Adrian stared at the screen.

His expression changed instantly.

“What is it?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he stood and walked toward the window before accepting the call.

“Matteo?”

Static crackled through the speaker.

Then a voice came through, distorted by rain and a weak signal.

“Don’t speak. Just listen.”

Adrian went completely still.

Zara watched the color drain from his face.

“The estate is locked down. Luca is alive, but he’s been taken upstairs.”

A pause. More static.

“Valentina is looking for both of you.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

“And there’s something else.”

The line crackled so badly Zara could barely hear the next words.

“Daniel Vale called me twenty minutes ago.”

Zara shot to her feet.

“He’s alive?”

Adrian raised a hand, listening.

“He wouldn’t say where he was. He only said one sentence.”

The signal faded, then returned.

“Tell Zara not to trust the birth certificate.”

The call cut off.

Silence crashed into the cottage.

Zara stared at Adrian.

“What does that mean?”

He lowered the phone slowly.

“I don’t know.”

“But he called. He’s alive.”

Relief surged through her so suddenly that her knees weakened.

Alive.

Her father was alive.

Then the second part of the message caught up with her.

Don’t trust the birth certificate.

A cold knot formed in her stomach.

“Adrian… what if there are multiple birth certificates?”

He looked at her sharply.

“In wealthy families? That’s possible.”

“In criminal families?”

A humorless breath escaped him. “Also possible.”

Zara began pacing.

“My father never told me anything. Not about Isabella, not about the Morettis, not about being my guardian. And now he sends a warning instead of an explanation.”

She stopped beside the fire.

“What if he’s protecting me?”

Adrian was silent for a moment.

“What if he’s protecting himself?”

The possibility hit hard because she had already thought it.

She hated that he said it aloud.

Rain rattled the windows.

Adrian picked up the leather folder from the table and opened it again.

The hospital records, the photograph, and the copied documents lay inside.

He spread them carefully across the table.

“Come here.”

Zara hesitated, then sat beside him.

He pointed to the first document.

“Female infant discharged to guardian: Daniel Vale.”

Then the second.

“Infant male transferred at 02:14.”

And finally the photograph.

“Your father is present in the hospital corridor.”

Zara followed the sequence.

“Two babies. One guardian. One transfer.”

Adrian nodded.

“What if the records were switched?”

The words fell between them.

Zara stared at him.

“You think the transferred baby could have been me?”

“I think we don’t know which record belongs to which child.”

Her pulse quickened.

“And if the records were altered intentionally?”

“Then someone wanted the identities separated.”

The fire popped sharply, sending sparks up the chimney.

Zara looked down at the photograph again.

The blurred woman on the stretcher.

The lily charm.

The date.

A thought came to her suddenly.

“Why would my father reopen my file now?”

Adrian leaned back slightly.

“Because something changed.”

“What?”

He held her gaze.

“Your engagement.”

The room went very quiet.

Zara felt the truth of it before she fully understood it.

If her father had hidden her connection to the Morettis for twenty five years, then her marriage into that family would have been the one event capable of exposing everything.

“He tried to stop this,” she whispered.

Adrian said nothing.

She remembered the call before the wedding.

If anything feels wrong tonight, come home first. Promise me that.

Her chest tightened.

“He knew.”

“I think he suspected the marriage would force the past to surface.”

Zara looked at Adrian.

“And your mother arranged it anyway.”

His expression darkened.

“Yes.”

The certainty in that single word frightened her.

Not because he accused Valentina.

Because he believed it.

A sudden knock sounded at the cottage door.

Three slow knocks.

Not loud.

Not urgent.

Deliberate.

Both of them went still.

No one should have known where they were.

Adrian extinguished the lamp beside the sofa, leaving only the firelight.

The knock came again.

Three times.

Zara’s heart began to pound.

Adrian moved silently to the wall beside the door.

“Stay behind me.”

The storm outside had softened, making the silence even sharper.

Then a voice came through the wood.

Low. Familiar.

“Zara.”

Her breath caught.

It was her father.

Adrian looked at her, shock flashing across his face.

The voice came again, weaker this time.

“Open the door. Please.”

Zara took a step forward instinctively.

Adrian caught her arm.

Something in his grip made her stop.

He leaned close and whispered:

“Ask him what he used to call you when you were five.”

Zara stared at him.

“What?”

“If it’s really him, he’ll know.”

The silence outside stretched.

Rain dripped from the roof.

Zara swallowed hard and called through the door:

“What did you call me when I was five?”

For a second, there was no answer.

Then the voice replied softly:

“Little Sparrow.”

Tears stung her eyes.

That was the name.

No one else knew it.

She turned to Adrian, already reaching for the lock.

And that was when the voice outside added one more sentence.

A sentence that made Adrian go completely still.

“Don’t let my daughter see the mark on your shoulder.”