Chapter 4 - Whispers in the Shadows
By the end of my second week at the Rossi estate, the physical pain had dulled into a constant, manageable ache.
The estate was a fortress. High stone walls, security cameras, and dozen silent, armed men guarded the perimeter. Yet inside, Isabella treated me like a long-lost daughter. She spent hours sitting by my bed, bringing me homemade soups, stitching needlepoint, and telling me stories of Dominic’s childhood.
"He was always quiet," Isabella told me one evening, setting a teacup on my nightstand. "After his father was assassinated ten years ago, Dominic took the throne at twenty-two. He stopped smiling. He carried the weight of hundreds of families on his back. I thought his heart had turned to stone, Clara... until the night you took those bullets."
"He only married me to protect me, Isabella," I said softly, looking at the gold band on my finger. "It’s a business transaction."
Isabella smiled gently, taking my hand. "My son does not bring business transactions into his private wing, my dear. Dominic has never let a woman stay in this house. Not ever."
Her words echoed in my head long after she left the room.
That night, unable to sleep, I wrapped a cashmere robe over my nightgown and stepped out into the quiet hallway. The mansion was silent. My feet carried me down the carpeted grand staircase toward the ground floor.
As I passed Dominic’s private library, I saw a sliver of warm light spilling through the cracked oak door.
I was about to knock when I heard voices inside.
"We checked the old records again, Boss," Enzo’s voice said, low and tense. "It’s confirmed. Ellen Vance isn't just a diner waitress who moved to Cleveland twenty years ago. Her birth name was Ellen Costa. She was Victor Costa’s younger sister—the one who disappeared from New York in 1998 after the syndicate split."
I froze. The blood drained from my face. My breath caught in my throat.
My mother... Ellen Costa? Victor Costa’s sister?
"Does Clara know?" Enzo asked.
"No," Dominic’s deep voice replied, sharp as steel. "And she can never find out from us. If Clara realizes she is Victor Costa’s biological niece, she will realize why her father was murdered twenty years ago."
"Boss, if Costa finds out Clara is Ellen’s daughter, he won't just try to kill her—he’ll claim her legal share of the Costa family maritime trust. Under the old charter, Clara is the sole rightful heir to the Brooklyn shipping terminals. That’s why Costa tried to wipe out the catering crew that night. He didn't just want your mother dead; he saw Clara’s name on the event roster and realized Ellen’s daughter was back in Manhattan!"
I pushed the door open. The heavy wood swung wide, creaking loudly in the quiet house.
Both men spun around. Enzo’s hand moved instinctively toward his holster, while Dominic stood up from his massive mahogany desk, his dark eyes widening in rare shock.
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I stood in the doorway, my body trembling, my hand gripping my cashmere robe tightly over my bandaged ribs.
"You knew," I whispered, tears burning the back of my eyes as I stared at Dominic. "You didn't steady my champagne tray at the hotel because I was clumsy. You already knew who I was before the first shot was fired."
