Chapter 4 – “The Truth Buried in Blood”
The doors opened.
And everyone in the mansion froze.
Not because someone had entered.
Because of who had entered.
Vincent Costa was a man who controlled fear.
He created it.
He carried it.
He weaponized it.
I had seen armed men lower their eyes when he walked into a room.
I had watched an entire underground auction fall silent because he had appeared.
But now?
Now Vincent Costa looked like a man who had seen a ghost.
The person standing at the entrance was impossible.
A woman.
Tall.
Elegant.
Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, untouched by the chaos around her.
She wore a long black coat.
No weapon.
No guards.
No fear.
She simply stood there as if she belonged.
As if this was her home.
Vincent's men raised their guns.
But nobody fired.
Nobody moved.
Because Vincent hadn't given the order.
His eyes were locked on her.
"Elena."
The name left his mouth like a curse.
The woman smiled faintly.
"Hello, Vincent."
My heart stopped.
Elena?
The same Elena who brought me food?
The same woman who acted like my only ally inside this prison?
I slowly turned.
The hallway suddenly felt colder.
Elena stood behind us.
The woman at the door looked exactly like her.
Except older.
Different.
More dangerous.
No.
Not Elena.
Her sister?
Mother?
Someone else?
My confusion must have shown because Vincent looked at me.
"Stay behind me."
I almost laughed.
Even now.
Even after everything.
His first instinct was still to protect me.
The woman at the door noticed.
And smiled.
"Still playing the hero?"
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"You died."
She tilted her head.
"No."
A pause.
"I survived."
The entire mansion held its breath.
I looked at Vincent.
"Who is she?"
He didn't answer.
The woman did.
"My name is Elena Voss."
The name meant nothing to me.
But it meant everything to Vincent.
Because his expression changed.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Pain.
"She was my brother's fiancée."
The words hit me.
Adrian Costa.
The man in the photograph.
The man my father supposedly betrayed.
The dead brother who started this entire war.
I looked at the woman.
"You were with Adrian?"
She smiled sadly.
"I was."
"Then why does Vincent think you killed him?"
The question hung in the air.
Everyone looked at her.
She looked back at Vincent.
"Because that's what he was told."
Vincent stepped forward.
"Don't."
Her expression hardened.
"You still don't want the truth."
"I know the truth."
"No."
Her voice sharpened.
"You know the story someone wrote for you."
The silence became unbearable.
I looked at Vincent.
For the first time, I wondered.
How much of his life was built on lies?
How much of mine?
They moved Elena Voss to the underground conference room.
Not a prison.
Not yet.
But definitely not freedom.
Vincent sat at the head of the table.
His men surrounded the room.
I sat across from him.
Because despite everything, I needed answers.
Elena looked at me.
"William's daughter."
I stiffened.
"You knew my father?"
She nodded.
"Better than anyone."
Vincent's expression darkened.
"Be careful."
She ignored him.
"Your father saved my life."
I stared.
"What?"
"He was the only person who tried to stop what was happening."
"What was happening?"
Elena looked at Vincent.
Then back at me.
"The destruction of the Costa family."
I frowned.
"By who?"
Nobody spoke.
Then Vincent said:
"Enough games."
Elena laughed quietly.
"Still protecting the monster who raised you?"
My eyes moved to Vincent.
"What does that mean?"
Vincent looked away.
That scared me.
Because Vincent Costa never looked away.
Not from anyone.
Not from anything.
Elena continued.
"Vincent was twenty-five when Adrian died."
"He believed William betrayed his family."
"But he never asked why William would risk everything to warn Adrian."
"Never asked why Adrian trusted William with his final message."
Vincent slammed his hand on the table.
"Stop."
The sound echoed.
But Elena didn't flinch.
"Because if he asks those questions, he has to admit something."
"What?"
She looked directly at him.
"That his own father may have ordered his brother's death."
The room went silent.
I felt the air leave my lungs.
Vincent's father.
The man who built the Costa empire.
The man who raised him.
Could he really have done that?
"No," Vincent whispered.
But it wasn't anger.
It was denial.
Elena softened.
"Vincent..."
"No."
His voice became stronger.
"You don't get to come back after ten years and destroy everything."
"I am not destroying anything."
She leaned forward.
"I am finally showing you what was already broken."
That night, Vincent disappeared.
No explanation.
No guards.
Nothing.
For a man who controlled everything, he looked strangely lost.
I found him in the old section of the mansion.
A place I had never seen.
A private room.
Filled with photographs.
Adrian.
Vincent.
Their parents.
A family before everything collapsed.
I stood in the doorway.
"You loved him."
Vincent didn't turn around.
"My brother?"
"Yes."
A long silence.
Then:
"He was the only person who believed I could be something different."
I stepped closer.
"And then he died."
"Yes."
"Because of my father?"
Vincent closed his eyes.
"I don't know anymore."
That answer shocked me.
Because Vincent Costa admitting uncertainty felt impossible.
"What happened that night?"
He stared at the photograph of Adrian.
"The official story?"
"Yes."
"William stole money."
"He betrayed us."
"He arranged a meeting with Adrian."
"Then Adrian was killed."
"And William disappeared."
I frowned.
"But you don't believe that anymore."
"No."
"Why?"
Vincent picked up another photograph.
A photograph of Adrian smiling.
"Because before Adrian died, he sent me a message."
"What did it say?"
Vincent looked at me.
"He said..."
His voice cracked slightly.
"Don't trust anyone with our name."
I froze.
"Our name?"
"Yes."
I thought about the warning left by my father.
Do not trust Vincent Costa.
But what if my father wasn't warning me about Vincent?
What if he was warning me about everyone around him?
The next morning, everything changed.
A package arrived.
No sender.
No fingerprints.
No explanation.
It was addressed to me.
Norah Hayes.
Vincent wanted it destroyed.
I refused.
"This is my life."
"It's also your death sentence."
"Then let me see why."
After a tense silence, he opened it.
Inside was a small flash drive.
And an old photograph.
The photograph showed three people.
My father.
Adrian Costa.
And Vincent.
All together.
But that wasn't what shocked me.
It was the writing on the back.
A date.
The same date Adrian died.
And one sentence.
"The three men who knew the truth were William Hayes, Adrian Costa, and Vincent Costa."
I looked at Vincent.
"What does this mean?"
He didn't answer.
Because he already knew.
The flash drive contained a video.
We watched.
The image was old.
Grainy.
But the voices were clear.
My father's voice.
William Hayes.
"I can't protect you forever, Adrian."
Adrian answered:
"I don't need protection."
A pause.
Then:
"I need proof."
My father's voice became lower.
"The proof is inside the Costa family."
A younger Vincent appeared on screen.
He looked different.
Less cold.
Less broken.
Adrian looked at him.
"If anything happens to me..."
Vincent interrupted.
"Nothing is going to happen."
Adrian smiled sadly.
"Brother."
The way he said it hurt.
"Promise me you will protect William's daughter."
The screen flickered.
I stopped breathing.
My father had known.
He had known I would be in danger.
Vincent had known.
Everyone had known except me.
The video continued.
Adrian looked directly into the camera.
"The person who betrayed us is not outside this family."
"He is inside."
Then the recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Finally, I whispered:
"Who was he talking about?"
Vincent stared at the black screen.
His face had lost all color.
Because he understood something I didn't.
"What?"
He slowly looked at me.
"The person who betrayed Adrian..."
A pause.
"The person who killed him..."
His voice dropped.
"It wasn't William."
My heart pounded.
"Then who?"
Vincent looked toward the mansion above us.
Toward the people who had served his family for years.
Toward the empire built on secrets.
Then he said:
"My father."
The room went silent.
And in that moment, everything changed.
Because Vincent Costa had spent ten years hunting the wrong enemy.
And I had spent twenty-three years believing the wrong story about my own father.
But the most terrifying truth was still waiting.
Because if Vincent's father was responsible for Adrian's death...
Then the man who built the Costa empire had a reason to keep William Hayes alive.
And that meant my father wasn't dead.
He was hiding.
Somewhere.
May you like
Waiting.
And someone had just found out that I knew.
