Chapter 9 - The Secret My Mother BuriedI wanted to hate him.
It would have been easier.
The man standing in front of me had my eyes, my face, my blood.
But there was something different behind his expression.
Something colder.
Something that made every instinct inside me scream.
“Don’t listen to him.”
My father’s voice cut through the room.
Luca looked at him.
“You always were loyal to the wrong person.”
My father stepped forward.
“You don’t know anything about him.”
Luca smiled.
“I know more than you.”
“Then say it.”
Luca looked around the basement.
At the files.
At the photographs.
At the evidence of everything this family had hidden.
“You want the truth?”
Nobody answered.
He continued anyway.
“Our mother had three children.”
My grandfather closed his eyes.
“And she had one fear.”
Luca looked at me.
“That one of us would become exactly like him.”
He pointed toward Alessandro.
My grandfather said nothing.
Because for the first time, he looked ashamed.
I stared at Luca.
“You said she was protecting me from you.”
“Yes.”
“Explain.”
Luca walked toward the table.
He picked up the folder marked SUBJECT C.
“When we were born, Alessandro believed he could create the perfect heir.”
He opened the folder.
“Your father was emotional.”
He looked at my father.
“Marco was physically resilient.”
Then his eyes moved to me.
“And you…”
He paused.
“You were unpredictable.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you were the only one he couldn’t measure.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It did to him.”
Luca turned the pages.
“Alessandro believed everything could be controlled. Intelligence. Strength. Loyalty. Fear.”
His fingers tapped the reports.
“But he couldn’t understand one thing.”
“What?”
“Choice.”
The word echoed.
“He thought people were machines.”
Luca looked at me.
“But our mother believed something else.”
“What?”
“That the child who had the greatest ability to choose would be the most dangerous.”
I felt a chill.
“Because I could become like him?”
Luca nodded.
“Or worse.”
The room went silent.
My father shook his head.
“No.”
Luca looked at him.
“You don’t know what she saw.”
“Neither do you.”
“I was there.”
My father froze.
Luca continued.
“She came to see me.”
“When?”
“After she discovered what Alessandro had done.”
I looked at him.
“What did she do?”
“She begged me to help her.”
My heart tightened.
“Help her with what?”
“To stop him.”
I stared.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
Luca’s expression softened.
“Because she was afraid.”
“Of Alessandro?”
He shook his head.
“Of you.”
The words hurt more than they should have.
“Me?”
“She believed you had inherited his mind.”
I laughed quietly.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
Luca stepped closer.
“How many times have you manipulated people to get what you wanted?”
I said nothing.
“How many times have you hidden your anger because you knew exactly how people would react if they saw it?”
My jaw tightened.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I watched you.”
The room felt colder.
“For years.”
I looked at my father.
“You knew?”
He looked away.
That was enough.
“You knew he was watching me?”
“I suspected.”
“You suspected?”
My voice rose.
“My entire life, someone was watching me, and you suspected?”
My father closed his eyes.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“That word doesn’t mean anything anymore.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“Raffaele.”
I looked at her.
She had tears in her eyes.
Not because of fear.
Because she understood.
She had spent three years being told her reality wasn't real.
Now I was experiencing the same thing.
Luca looked at her.
“You’re Evelyn.”
She stiffened.
“How do you know me?”
“Because I know everything about this family.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He looked away.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology surprised everyone.
Even him.
Evelyn narrowed her eyes.
“Why?”
“Because you suffered because of them.”
He looked at Alessandro.
“Because of him.”
My grandfather finally spoke.
“Enough.”
Everyone turned.
His voice had returned.
Cold.
Controlled.
The man who had ruled this family for decades.
“You are all acting as if I am the only villain.”
Nobody moved.
Alessandro looked at me.
“Ask them what happened after your mother died.”
My stomach tightened.
“My mother died when I was eight.”
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
“Ask your father.”
I looked at him.
My father’s face changed.
“What?”
“Ask him.”
I turned.
“Dad?”
He didn’t answer.
“Tell me.”
He looked broken.
“I didn’t want you to know.”
I felt something inside me crack.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“Your mother didn’t die naturally.”
The room went silent.
“What are you saying?”
“She was killed.”
Evelyn covered her mouth.
Anna whispered:
“Oh my God.”
I stared.
“By who?”
Nobody answered.
My eyes moved to Alessandro.
Then Luca.
Then my father.
“Who?”
My father looked at the floor.
“She found the files.”
My blood ran cold.
“She found out about us?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She confronted your grandfather.”
Alessandro laughed.
A bitter laugh.
“She was always dramatic.”
My father looked at him with hatred.
“You killed her.”
“I removed a problem.”
The words were so calm that everyone froze.
The officer immediately stepped forward.
“Did you just admit—”
Alessandro ignored him.
I couldn’t hear anything else.
My mother.
The woman who tucked me into bed.
The woman who kissed my forehead.
The woman who told me monsters weren’t real.
Killed.
Because she knew the truth.
I looked at Luca.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
His expression changed.
Because the question hurt him too.
“Because I tried.”
“What?”
“I tried many times.”
“When?”
“When you were young.”
I frowned.
“I don’t remember.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
My grandfather smiled faintly.
“He erased those memories.”
The room went still.
“What?”
Alessandro looked almost proud.
“You were too curious.”
My hands shook.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing permanent.”
Luca’s face turned dark.
“He removed pieces of your childhood.”
My father looked sick.
“You promised me you wouldn’t.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“You begged me.”
My father went silent.
I stared at him.
“You knew?”
He whispered:
“Yes.”
The pain was worse than anger.
Because anger was simple.
Pain was not.
My father had lied.
Bianca had lied.
Everyone had lied.
But the worst part was that they had all believed they were doing the right thing.
I turned away.
I needed air.
I walked toward the basement exit.
Then I stopped.
Because I saw something on the wall.
A photograph.
Old.
Hidden behind a shelf.
I pulled it down.
Three children.
A hospital room.
My mother.
And behind them—
A fourth person.
A man.
Young.
Standing beside my mother.
My father looked at the picture.
And his face changed.
“Who is that?”
Nobody answered.
I looked closer.
The man looked familiar.
Not because I knew him.
Because I had seen him before.
In the family portraits.
In old videos.
In the background of memories.
“Who is he?”
My grandfather whispered:
“No.”
Luca stepped closer.
His face went pale.
“That’s impossible.”
“Who?”
Luca looked at the picture.
Then at me.
“That’s our father.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
“My biological father.”
“That’s impossible.”
Luca shook his head slowly.
“No.”
He pointed at the man.
“The man you thought was Alessandro…”
Everyone looked at my grandfather.
Luca finished:
“He wasn’t our grandfather.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman’s voice came through.
An old recording.
A voice I knew.
My mother.
“Raffaele…”
My hands began to shake.
“If you are hearing this, it means they failed to keep the truth hidden.”
I couldn’t speak.
The recording continued.
“I need you to know one thing.”
A pause.
Then:
“I didn’t choose you because you were the strongest.”
My eyes filled.
“I chose you because you were the only one who still had a chance to forgive.”
The room disappeared.
Then my mother said the final words.
“The man who raised you is not your father.”
A pause.
“And the man you just met is not your brother.”
Everyone froze.
The recording ended.
But one final sound remained.
A second voice.
A man whispering in the background.
A voice I recognized.
Alessandro.
Except he sounded younger.
And terrified.
The recording had captured him saying:
“Run, Elena.”
My mother’s name.
“Before he finds out what he really is.”
The phone slipped from my hand.
Because suddenly the question was no longer who was lying.
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It was this:
What was my mother trying to protect the world from?