Chapter 6 - The Secret I Never Told My Daughter
Mia's father was dead.
That was what I had told her.
It was not exactly a lie.
But it wasn't the truth either.
His name was Michael.
At least, that was the name he gave me.
I met him nine years earlier in Boston.
I was twenty-seven.
Working at a hotel.
Trying to build a life with no connection to Chicago.
Michael arrived during a snowstorm.
He was charming.
Quiet.
Funny without trying.
He stayed three weeks.
We fell in love much faster than intelligent people should.
Then he disappeared.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
Two months later, I discovered I was pregnant.
Six months after that, I received a letter.
Michael was dead.
There was no funeral.
No body.
Only a lawyer and enough money to pay my rent for a year.
I never touched most of it.
Gabriel stared at me.
“What was his last name?”
“He said Carter.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“What?”
“Isabella.”
“What?”
“There was no Michael Carter.”
I felt sick.
“Then who was he?”
Gabriel reached into his pocket.
He removed an old photograph.
Three young men.
Alexander.
Nicholas.
And another Romano I recognized only from photographs inside the mansion.
Samuel Romano.
Alexander's cousin.
Samuel had disappeared nine years ago.
Officially, he died in a boating accident.
I stared at the picture.
“No.”
Gabriel didn't speak.
“No.”
Mia looked between us.
“Mom?”
I crouched.
“Go into the kitchen, sweetheart.”
“I want to stay.”
“Mia.”
Her face tightened.
“Everybody keeps talking about me like I'm not here.”
That hurt.
She was right.
I took her hand.
“The man I believed was your father used a different name.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Was he bad?”
“I swallowed.
“I don't know that either.”
Gabriel said quietly, “His real name was Samuel Romano.”
Mia looked at him.
“Like Mr. Romano?”
“Yes.”
“Were they family?”
“Cousins.”
Mia looked at me.
“Then Mr. Romano is my cousin?”
I almost laughed despite everything.
“Something like that.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“Not exactly.”
I glared at him.
“Enough.”
But he continued.
“Samuel wasn't Anthony's nephew.”
“What?”
“He was Anthony's son.”
The room tilted.
Gabriel explained.
Years before Alexander was born, Anthony had an affair.
Samuel was the child.
He was raised publicly as Anthony's nephew to avoid scandal.
Only four people knew.
Anthony.
Gabriel.
Eleanor Laurent.
And Vincent.
The four in the photograph.
That meant Samuel had been Alexander's half-brother.
And Mia...
Was Anthony Romano's granddaughter.
A direct Romano heir.
I understood immediately.
“The trust.”
Gabriel nodded.
“If Alexander and Nicholas die without children, control doesn't automatically pass to Vincent.”
“Because Mia exists.”
“Yes.”
“Does Vincent know?”
“He suspected.”
“How?”
“Samuel contacted Anthony's old lawyer before he died.”
I felt rage building.
“Samuel knew who he was?”
“Yes.”
“And he knew who I was?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Yes.”
I stood.
“He knew I was your daughter?”
“Yes.”
“He approached me deliberately?”
“I believe so.”
My entire relationship shattered in retrospect.
Every coincidence.
Every question about Chicago.
Every time Michael—Samuel—asked about my childhood.
“He used me.”
“I don't think so.”
“You don't know.”
“No.”
“You don't get to defend him.”
“I met him before he died.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He loved you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Men who love you don't disappear.”
Gabriel absorbed that.
He deserved it.
“Samuel disappeared because Vincent discovered your relationship.”
“Why would Vincent care?”
“Because a child between a Romano and a Moretti would unite bloodlines he spent decades keeping apart.”
I looked at Mia.
My daughter was sitting silently.
Too silently.
She finally asked:
“Did my dad know about me?”
I couldn't answer.
Gabriel could.
“Yes.”
Mia's eyes filled.
“He knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he come?”
Gabriel crouched.
“Because he was trying to.”
He handed her a small envelope.
Her name was written on it.
MIA.
“I've carried this for eight years.”
I stared at him.
“You had that?”
“Samuel gave it to me.”
“You had a letter from her father for eight years?”
“I couldn't risk contacting you.”
I slapped him.
The sound filled the room.
Gabriel didn't move.
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
“You stole eight years from her.”
“I know.”
Mia whispered, “Mom.”
I turned.
She was crying.
I immediately went to her.
“I'm sorry.”
She held the envelope.
“Can I read it?”
I nodded.
She opened it.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
My little girl,
If you're reading this, I failed to come home.
Your mother is the bravest person I ever knew.
I wanted to tell her everything.
I kept waiting until I could make the truth safe.
That was my mistake.
Never wait to tell people you love them.
Mia stopped.
Tears fell onto the paper.
She continued silently.
Then folded it.
“Did he die?”
Gabriel nodded.
“Vincent had him killed.”
That was the moment everything changed.
This wasn't about inheritance anymore.
It wasn't about Alexander.
It wasn't about old mafia wars.
Vincent Romano had murdered Mia's father.
My fear became something else.
Anger.
My phone rang.
Alexander.
I answered immediately.
“Isabella?”
“We know why Vincent wants Mia.”
Silence.
“You know?”
“Samuel was her father.”
Alexander didn't speak.
Then:
“What?”
I told him.
Everything.
When I finished, Alexander sounded different.
Samuel had been his half-brother.
Another family lie.
Another dead person.
“Mia is my niece.”
“Yes.”
Alexander exhaled.
“Is she safe?”
“For now.”
“Listen carefully. Vincent escaped the estate.”
“What about Victoria?”
“We have her.”
“And Eleanor?”
“Missing.”
“Alexander, Vincent knows where we are.”
“I know.”
“How?”
A pause.
“Because I told him.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He called me.”
“Why would you—”
“He said he had Eleanor.”
“So you gave him our location?”
“No.”
My anger stopped.
“Then what did you give him?”
“A different location.”
I understood.
A trap.
“Where?”
“The old St. Gabriel hospital.”
Gabriel heard.
His face changed.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
Gabriel grabbed the phone.
“Alexander, don't go there.”
“Why?”
“That's where Anthony died.”
Silence.
Then Alexander said:
“I know.”
The call ended.
I stared at Gabriel.
“He's going.”
Gabriel grabbed his coat.
“So are we.”
“No.”
“Vincent wants Mia because she's an heir. That means he won't stop.”
“You're not using my daughter as bait.”
“I would die before I did that.”
“Then what?”
Gabriel looked toward the dark windows.
“We end this tonight.”
Before I could answer, headlights appeared outside.
Three vehicles.
Then four.
Gabriel reached for his gun.
The guards moved into position.
A black SUV stopped near the house.
The rear door opened.
A woman stepped out.
Older.
Elegant.
Silver hair.
I recognized her from the photograph.
Eleanor Laurent.
Victoria's supposedly dead mother.
She raised both hands.
“I came alone.”
Gabriel stepped outside.
“Eleanor?”
She looked at him.
Then at me.
Then Mia.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, God.”
She walked toward my daughter.
“You look exactly like Samuel.”
I stepped between them.
“Why are you here?”
“Because Alexander is walking into a trap.”
“We know.”
“No.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“You don't.”
Her voice trembled.
“Vincent isn't the one waiting for him.”
Gabriel went still.
“Who is?”
Eleanor looked at him.
“The person who planned all of this before Vincent ever knew Alexander's inhaler was missing.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
May you like
Eleanor answered with three words.
“Alexander's own mother.”
