Chapter 4 - THE LETTER FROM THE DEAD
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I didn't sleep.
Neither did Dominic.
At 3:12 a.m., Marcus found something buried in the manor archives.
A letter.
Sealed.
Dated two days before the fire.
Addressed to me.
That was impossible.
I was an infant.
Yet my name was written clearly.
Sophia Elise Thorne.
My hands shook as I opened it.
My mother's handwriting filled the page.
My darling daughter,
If you ever read this, then the people I feared have failed to erase you.
I covered my mouth.
Dominic stood behind me.
My mother continued.
You were never supposed to know the truth about your father. I wanted you to have a normal life.
Victor is not your father.
I looked up.
Dominic closed his eyes.
The letter continued.
Your father is Marcus Sterling.
Dominic stared.
“Marcus?”
“The older son,” he whispered.
His voice sounded broken.
“My uncle.”
The letter explained everything.
My mother had been secretly married to Marcus Sterling before she married Dominic's father.
Marcus had been the true owner of the family's private fortune.
But he died in a suspicious boating accident.
My mother was already pregnant.
She hid the pregnancy.
Then she married Dominic's father to protect the child.
I was his biological daughter.
But the Sterling family could never publicly acknowledge me.
Because Marcus's enemies wanted his bloodline erased.
Then came the fire.
My mother had escaped with me.
But she didn't survive.
She entrusted me to Lucia Thorne.
My grandmother.
The entire identity I'd been given was a carefully constructed lie.
I was Elena Sophia Thorne.
But by blood, I was Sophia Sterling.
Dominic sat down.
“My whole life…”
He stared at the floor.
“I thought I was the last Sterling.”
I touched his hand.
“You're still my brother.”
He looked at me.
For the first time, his eyes softened.
“Yes.”
Then a noise came from the hallway.
A floorboard creaked.
Marcus disappeared through the doorway.
A second later, gunfire erupted.
Dominic pulled me behind the desk.
“Stay down!”
Two shots.
Then silence.
Marcus returned.
He was holding a black envelope.
“Someone breached the archives.”
“Who?”
“Unknown.”
He handed me the envelope.
Inside was a photograph of my mother.
Alive.
Taken yesterday.
My heart stopped.
“That can't be.”
Dominic stared.
“She's dead.”
Marcus shook his head.
“This photograph was taken at 11:48 a.m. yesterday.”
The back contained an address.
A remote house in Vermont.
Then one sentence:
Come alone, Sophia.
Dominic grabbed the photograph.
“No.”
“She might be alive.”
“It could be a trap.”
“I have to go.”
“You're not going alone.”
I shook my head.
“Then they won't show themselves.”
Dominic looked furious.
“I lost you once.”
“You didn't lose me.”
“I thought I did.”
Silence.
“I won't risk it again.”
Then Marcus interrupted.
“Boss.”
He pointed to another photograph.
Victor Vance.
Standing outside the same Vermont house.
Dominic's expression changed.
“So Cassandra wasn't the mastermind.”
“No,” Marcus said.
“She was only the messenger.”
I looked at the photo.
Victor Vance had been supposedly missing for twelve years.
Dead, according to official records.
Yet here he was.
Alive.
And apparently meeting my mother.
Then another photograph slipped from the envelope.
It showed a woman carrying a newborn.
My mother.
And the baby.
There was handwriting underneath.
The first child was Sophia.
The second child survived.
I stared at the words.
May you like
Dominic whispered:
“You have another sibling.”
