Chapter 7: The Woman Who Owned The Shadows
Nobody reacted.
Not immediately.
Because the human mind rejects impossible things before accepting painful ones.
Alessandro’s mother had been dead for seven years.
A private funeral.
A closed coffin.
A grave.
Everyone knew.
Everyone except Victor.
“That’s impossible,” Alessandro said.
Victor did not move.
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“It is impossible only because that is what everyone was told.”
My skin turned cold.
“What are you saying?”
Victor looked at me.
“Mrs. Moretti is alive.”
The words felt unreal.
Like something from a nightmare.
Alessandro stared at him.
“You expect me to believe my mother faked her death?”
“I expect you to believe the evidence.”
Victor opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
He handed it to Alessandro.
I watched his face as he looked at it.
The color disappeared.
Because the woman in the picture…
Was unmistakable.
An older woman.
Elegant.
Standing outside a private villa.
Alive.
Alessandro took a step backward.
“No.”
Nobody had ever seen Alessandro Moretti shaken.
Not during business wars.
Not during threats.
Not during negotiations.
But now…
He looked like a son.
A son discovering the person he buried had been watching him from the shadows.
Victor continued.
“She never died.”
“Why?”
“Because she wanted people to believe she was gone.”
“Why?”
Victor looked at me.
“Because she was planning something bigger.”
A cold feeling moved through my chest.
“Bigger than a fake pregnancy?”
Victor nodded.
“Much bigger.”
He looked at Emma.
“And your daughter was the reason she became interested in Clara.”
I felt my body freeze.
“What does Emma have to do with this?”
Victor hesitated.
Then answered:
“Everything.”
The room went silent.
Alessandro immediately stepped in front of Emma.
“Explain.”
Victor looked at him.
“Your father left behind one final secret.”
“What secret?”
Victor pointed toward the envelope.
“There is another heir.”
Nobody spoke.
My eyes moved to Emma.
Then back to Victor.
“No.”
Victor nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
Alessandro’s expression hardened.
“Who?”
Victor looked at me.
And my heart stopped.
Because I already knew.
Before he even said it.
May you like
“The child of Thomas Hayes.”
The room disappeared.
