Chapter 9 - The Father Who Came Back From the Dead|
Nobody spoke.
For twenty-two years, Marius had believed his father was dead.
For fifteen years, I'd believed mine was dead.
Now Dimitri was telling us both men were alive.
I looked at Marius.
His face had gone completely white.
"That's impossible," he whispered.
Dimitri nodded.
"I know."
"Explain."
"The security cameras at the old villa recorded two men entering an hour ago. Facial recognition suggests they're Sergei Volkov and Alexei Orlov."
Marius stared.
"Facial recognition?"
"Preliminary. We haven't confirmed their identities."
I looked at him.
"Then they might not be who we think."
Dimitri nodded.
"Correct."
For a moment, I felt relief.
Then he added:
"But one of the men called the estate office and asked for Marius by name."
Marius closed his eyes.
"What did he say?"
Dimitri hesitated.
"He said, 'Tell my son I'm tired of pretending to be dead.'"
The air seemed to leave the room.
Marius gripped the back of a pew.
I reached toward him.
Then stopped.
He looked at me.
And this time, he reached for my hand.
I took it.
His fingers were cold.
"Elena," he whispered, "I don't know what happens next."
I squeezed his hand.
"Neither do I."
He looked toward the church doors.
"Then we'll find out."
We drove to the old villa outside Naples.
The property sat high above the coast, surrounded by olive trees and stone walls.
Marius hadn't visited in years.
He told me his father had bought it shortly before his death.
A place for family holidays.
A place that never became a home.
As we approached, I saw two cars parked near the entrance.
Dimitri's men remained outside.
Marius insisted the police be notified if there was any sign of danger.
For once, he wasn't trying to solve everything through force.
We entered the villa through the main doors.
The marble floor echoed beneath our footsteps.
Dust covered the furniture.
The air smelled of old wood and sea salt.
Then a voice spoke from the sitting room.
"Marius."
We stopped.
An older man stood beside the fireplace.
Silver hair.
Sharp blue eyes.
A familiar face.
Marius looked as though he'd been struck.
"Father?"
The man smiled.
"My son."
Marius didn't move.
For twenty-two years, he'd dreamed of hearing that voice again.
Now it seemed to frighten him.
"You're dead," Marius whispered.
Alexei Orlov sighed.
"Officially."
My stomach turned.
Then another man stepped into the room.
Tall.
Gray-haired.
A scar near his mouth.
My father.
Sergei Volkov.
I stopped breathing.
"Papa?"
His eyes filled with tears.
"My little star."
I wanted to run to him.
To throw myself into his arms.
To pretend I was eight years old again.
But I remembered his phone call.
His accusations.
My mother's letter.
And the terrible things everyone had told me.
So I stayed where I was.
"Why?" I whispered.
Sergei's face changed.
"Elena—"
"Why did you let me believe you were dead?"
He looked down.
"Because I had no choice."
I laughed bitterly.
"Everyone says that."
Alexei stepped forward.
"Children, there are things you don't understand."
Marius's expression hardened.
"I'm forty-one years old."
Alexei smiled faintly.
"And still my son."
Marius stepped toward him.
"You let me bury you."
Alexei's smile disappeared.
"You buried an empty coffin."
The words struck like a slap.
Marius stared.
"You knew?"
"Yes."
"For twenty-two years?"
Alexei nodded.
Marius's voice broke.
"I spent half my life trying to avenge you."
"I know."
"I became a monster because I thought someone murdered you!"
Alexei looked away.
"That was unfortunate."
Marius went completely still.
Unfortunate.
Twenty-two years of grief.
Violence.
Guilt.
And his father called it unfortunate.
I watched Marius's expression change.
Something inside him finally broke.
He stepped backward.
"You're not my father."
Alexei's eyes narrowed.
"Careful."
"No."
Marius shook his head.
"My father died when I was nineteen. The man standing in front of me is someone else."
Silence.
Sergei stepped forward.
"We didn't bring you here to fight."
I looked at him.
"Then why?"
He took a breath.
"Because the old agreement is about to collapse."
I frowned.
"What agreement?"
Sergei glanced at Alexei.
"The agreement that kept our families alive."
Marius's expression darkened.
"Explain."
Alexei walked toward a large wooden table.
He placed a folder on it.
Inside were photographs.
Contracts.
Bank records.
And a recording device.
I stared.
"The recording."
Sergei nodded.
"Yes."
Marius approached.
"What does it show?"
Alexei looked at him.
"The truth about the night I disappeared."
My heart raced.
Sergei pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then voices.
Alexei.
Sergei.
Viktor.
And a woman's voice.
My mother.
I froze.
She sounded younger.
Frightened.
"You can't do this," she said.
Alexei laughed.
"It's already done."
Then Sergei spoke.
"Elena isn't part of the agreement."
My blood ran cold.
My name.
Elena.
I looked at my father.
"What agreement?"
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
The recording continued.
Alexei's voice became clear.
"Then we marry the children when they're old enough. The families remain united. The assets stay protected."
My stomach dropped.
Marius turned slowly.
"What?"
Sergei's voice came through the recording.
"She's just a child."
Alexei answered.
"Then we wait."
The recording ended.
Silence filled the villa.
I stared at Marius.
He looked as horrified as I felt.
Our relationship.
Our meeting.
My employment.
Had all of it been arranged?
Alexei smiled.
"You see? The families were always meant to unite."
I stepped backward.
"No."
Sergei reached toward me.
"Elena—"
"No!"
My voice echoed through the room.
"You planned my life before I was old enough to understand it?"
Alexei frowned.
"It was a business arrangement."
I stared at him.
"I'm not a business arrangement."
Marius stepped beside me.
"Neither is she."
Alexei's expression hardened.
"You've become sentimental."
Marius looked at him.
"No. I've become someone who understands that people aren't property."
Then Alexei said something that made the room freeze.
"Careful, Marius. You have no idea what your precious Elena actually inherited."
I turned.
"What?"
Alexei smiled.
"Her mother left her something far more valuable than money."
My heart raced.
"Like what?"
May you like
Alexei looked directly at me.
"A recording that could put both of us in prison."
