Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF A FAMILY SECRET
Celeste’s two men blocked the platform exits. She approached slowly, her
heels clicking against the concrete.
“I had hoped you would stay buried,” she told Isabella. “You were always
terrible at following instructions.”
Dante stood between them. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”
Celeste’s gaze moved to Sofia. “And there she is. The lost heiress. Rosa
should have kept her promise and stayed silent.”
Sofia’s hands were cold, but she forced herself to speak. “You tried to
kill me.”
“I arranged for a warning. The soup was not supposed to be fatal.”
“You put something in my food.”
“I wanted you frightened enough to leave the estate. You were restoring
that portrait, asking questions, and looking at things that were not
yours to understand.”
Dante’s expression became terrifyingly calm. “Who poisoned the soup?”
Celeste glanced at one of the men. He looked away.
“You’ll never prove anything,” she said. “The staff will deny seeing me.
The cameras can be edited. Your investigator has no authority here. And
your mother has spent eighteen years hiding under false names.”
“Not anymore,” Isabella replied.
She reached into her coat and removed a small recorder. “I have your
conversation with Vittorio from the night of the fire. I kept it all
these years.”
Celeste’s smile faltered.
“You recorded him?” Dante asked.
“I knew he would deny everything. He confessed that he planned to
destroy the greenhouse and the documents inside it. He said he wanted
Alessandra gone because she threatened the inheritance. He never
admitted he meant to kill me, but he told you enough tonight.”
Celeste laughed once, a brittle sound. “You have a recording from a dead
man. It proves nothing.”
“Perhaps,” Isabella said. “But I also have the original trust documents,
the account ledger, and the names of the men who were paid to help you.”
Dante’s phone vibrated. Marcus had sent a message: Police units
approaching. Stay where you are.
Celeste saw the screen. Her expression sharpened. “You called the
police?”
“I called someone who still believes evidence matters,” Dante said.
She turned toward her men. “Get the recorder.”
One of them lunged. Dante intercepted him, and the two crashed against a
bench. The second man grabbed Sofia’s arm. She twisted free, striking
his wrist with the metal handle of her handbag. He cursed and stumbled.
Isabella shouted for them to run, but Celeste had already pulled a small
pistol from her coat.
“Enough!”
The station fell silent.
Celeste pointed the gun at Dante. “You should have stayed a grieving
boy. You were easier to control that way.”
Dante raised his hands, but did not move away from Sofia. “You’re going
to prison.”
“No. I’m going to finish what your father started.”
A siren wailed beyond the station doors. Celeste’s attention flickered
for a fraction of a second. Isabella seized the moment, knocking the gun
sideways. It fired into the ceiling. Dante tackled Celeste, and the
weapon skittered beneath a bench.
The two hired men fled toward the tracks, but officers entered from the
street and caught them. Celeste fought until a female officer forced her
hands behind her back and cuffed her.
As she was led away, Celeste looked directly at Sofia.
“You think you’ve won because you know your name. You still don’t know
who your father was.”
Sofia felt the words strike deep.
“Vittorio wasn’t my father?” she asked Isabella after Celeste had been
taken away.
Isabella shook her head. “No. Your biological father was my brother,
Adrian. He died before you were born. Vittorio wanted you hidden because
your claim to the trust would have exposed the way he stole from
Adrian’s estate.”
Dante looked at Sofia. “Then the inheritance belongs to you.”
“I don’t care about the money.”
“I know. That’s why you may be the only person who can decide what
happens to it.”
Police took Isabella to a secure location for her statement. Sofia and
Dante followed in a separate car. Neither spoke for several miles.
Finally, Sofia said, “I don’t know how to be Alessandra.”
“You don’t have to become someone else overnight.”
“What if I’m only the person everyone wanted me to be? The lost
daughter, the heir, the evidence?”
Dante glanced at her. “You’re also the woman who challenged me in a
hospital bed, who noticed a detail everyone else missed, and who refuses
to let fear make her cruel. Those things belong to you. No one can take
them.”
She wanted to believe him. But Celeste’s last words had opened a new
door, and Sofia could feel another secret waiting behind it.
At the safe house, Isabella asked to speak with her alone.
May you like
“There’s something else,” she said. “Adrian did not die in a car
accident.”
