Chapter 2 - THE GIRL THE MAFIA BOSS THOUGHT WAS DEAD
Alexander Moretti was looking at me as though I'd risen from a grave.
"My father saved you?"
He nodded slowly.
"Eleven years ago."
Derek suddenly moved toward the door.
One of Alexander's security officers stopped him.
"Mr. Moretti hasn't dismissed you."
Derek turned pale.
I barely noticed.
My entire world had narrowed to Alexander's face.
"How did you know my father?"
Alexander pulled out the chair beside his desk.
"Would you like to sit?"
I nodded.
He waited until I was comfortable before continuing.
"Jonathan Carter worked as an accountant for one of my father's shipping companies."
That wasn't what I'd been told.
My father had supposedly worked for a small insurance firm.
Alexander continued.
"He discovered someone was using the business to hide illegal transactions."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"We never established the full extent of it."
He looked toward Derek.
"But Jonathan came to warn me that night. Someone had arranged an attack at a waterfront warehouse."
I stared.
"What happened?"
"Your father pulled me out before the building caught fire."
My chest ached.
I remembered the night Dad died.
Two police officers at our front door.
My mother collapsing into a chair.
The closed funeral.
The way everyone refused to explain what had happened.
Alexander's voice softened.
"Jonathan suffered serious injuries helping me escape. I was told he died in the hospital."
"He did."
"I know."
I swallowed.
"Then why did you think I was dead?"
He looked genuinely troubled.
"Someone provided documents showing your mother and daughter were killed in a highway accident six months later."
I shook my head.
"No. My mother died three years ago. I was with her."
Alexander stared at me.
Derek shifted nervously.
Then I remembered something.
After Dad's funeral, my mother had changed our names temporarily.
She told me it was for safety.
I'd never understood why.
Alexander slowly stood.
"Who told you your father's death was an accident?"
"Derek."
My husband's expression changed.
I'd met him three years after my mother died.
He'd claimed his family had known my father.
He'd helped me find old records.
And slowly, he'd convinced me that I owed his family something.
Alexander turned toward him.
"You knew who she was."
Derek swallowed.
"Mr. Moretti—"
"Answer."
"Yes."
"And you married her because of Jonathan Carter?"
Derek looked at me.
For the first time, I saw something beneath his anger.
Fear.
"Her father left something behind," he whispered.
Alexander's jaw tightened.
"What?"
"A ledger."
I stared at Derek.
I'd never heard of any ledger.
But Alexander had.
His face drained of color.
Then he reached for his phone.
"Marcus, secure the building. Nobody leaves until the police arrive."
Derek began protesting.
Alexander ignored him.
Then he looked at me.
"Emily, did your mother leave you anything before she died?"
I thought about the little wooden box beneath my bed.
My mother's wedding ring.
A photograph.
And a brass key.
"Yes."
Alexander stepped closer.
"What kind of key?"
I swallowed.
"A small brass one."
His expression changed.
"Does it have a number?"
I nodded.
"Seven."
Alexander looked stunned.
Then he whispered:
"Your father hid the evidence that could destroy my entire organization."
And suddenly, Derek shouted:
"She doesn't know what she's carrying!"
Alexander turned.
Derek's face was white.
May you like
Then he revealed the secret that made my blood run cold.
"Her mother didn't die naturally. My father ordered it."
