Chapter 3 - THE SECOND DAUGHTER
Anthony Moretti sat in the mansion's library with two guards behind him.
The suitcase rested on the table.
Inside were miniature cameras, recording devices, spare phones, memory cards, and a laptop.
Vincent entered alone.
Anthony smiled.
They were brothers, but no one meeting them for the first time would have guessed it.
Vincent had inherited their father's heavy dark features and intimidating stillness. Anthony resembled Isabella—handsome, polished, effortlessly charming.
He was also the family member people underestimated.
Vincent never had.
“You've been spying on my house,” Vincent said.
Anthony leaned back.
“Our house.”
“Not anymore.”
“You always did like ownership.”
Vincent opened the laptop.
Password protected.
“Give me the password.”
Anthony laughed.
“Go to hell.”
Vincent pulled out the chair opposite him and sat.
“I can have Daniel crack it.”
“Then why are you talking to me?”
“Because Mara is terrified of you.”
Anthony's smile disappeared.
There it was.
Vincent leaned forward.
“Did you hurt her?”
“No.”
“Did you grab her wrists?”
“No.”
“Did you delete the footage?”
Anthony looked toward the door.
Vincent slammed his palm against the table.
“Look at me.”
Anthony did.
For the first time, fear appeared in his eyes.
“I deleted it,” he said.
Vincent went very still.
“Why?”
“To protect her.”
“From whom?”
Anthony stared at him.
“Mother.”
Vincent almost laughed.
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is the only answer.”
Anthony stood, but the guards moved immediately.
He raised his hands.
“Ask Isabella what happened to Rose Harper.”
Vincent frowned.
“Who?”
“Our sister.”
The words didn't register.
Then they did.
Vincent's expression changed.
Anthony gave him a sad smile.
“See? That's the problem with this family. We bury people so completely that eventually even their names disappear.”
Vincent grabbed Anthony by the collar.
“I don't have a sister.”
“You did.”
Vincent shoved him backward.
Anthony hit the bookshelf.
“Rose was born three years before you,” he said. “Dad wasn't her father.”
Vincent released him.
“What?”
“Our mother was engaged before Salvatore.”
“That isn't possible.”
“Everything in this house is impossible until someone finally opens the right door.”
Anthony walked toward the laptop.
“Rose was six when Dad learned she wasn't biologically his.”
Vincent remembered no Rose.
No photographs.
No stories.
Nothing.
“What happened to her?”
Anthony's face changed.
“I don't know.”
Vincent stared at him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I was fifteen when I found her birth certificate hidden in Father's safe. I asked Mother once.”
“And?”
“She slapped me so hard she broke my lip.”
Vincent looked at the suitcase.
“So you've been investigating.”
“For twelve years.”
“Why spy on Mara?”
“Because six weeks ago, a woman named Mara Bennett applied to work here using a forged reference.”
Anthony looked toward the hallway.
“I recognized her mother's name.”
“Sarah.”
Anthony nodded.
“I thought she might know something about Rose.”
“And the missing footage?”
“She went into the cellar last night. I erased the recording before Mother saw it.”
Vincent studied him.
“What did Mara find?”
Anthony was silent.
Then the library door opened.
Mara entered with Daniel behind her.
She carried a brown envelope.
“I found this inside the wall behind the chair,” she said.
She placed it on the table.
Inside were handwritten letters.
Dozens of them.
All addressed to Isabella Moretti.
The first began:
Dear Mrs. Moretti,
Please let me take Rose and leave. I swear I will never tell anyone what your husband has done.
The signature read:
Sarah Bennett.
Vincent looked up.
“Sarah knew Rose?”
Mara nodded.
“They were together in the cellar.”
Anthony whispered, “Jesus.”
Mara pulled out another letter.
This one was newer.
Written only sixteen years ago.
Vincent recognized the handwriting immediately.
His father's.
Isabella,
You told the boys Rose died.
That lie belongs to you, not me.
If she ever comes back, you will deal with what you did.
Vincent read the sentence twice.
Then a third time.
Rose hadn't died as a child.
She had survived.
Anthony slowly sat down.
“So where is she?”
Nobody answered.
Then Daniel's radio came alive.
“Sir?”
Daniel picked it up.
“We have a woman at the front gate.”
“What woman?”
“She won't give her name.”
“Send her away.”
The guard hesitated.
“She says Vincent will want to see what she has.”
Vincent turned.
“What does she have?”
“A photograph of Mrs. Moretti.”
“Which Mrs. Moretti?”
The answer came softly.
“Your mother.”
A pause.
“And in the photograph, sir… she's standing beside Sarah Bennett.”
Vincent felt cold.
“When was it taken?”
May you like
The guard answered.
“Three days ago.”
