Chapter 4 - Shadows of the Past
The revelation hit the damp warehouse like a physical impact. The hum of the distant ocean waves faded as Lorenzo stared at Dr. Evelyn Vance, his mind racing through years of hidden memories.
Clara—the gentle, quiet woman who had brightened the darkest corners of his life. The woman who had stitched his shirts, read him poetry in the library late at night, and smiled despite the cruel insults hurled at her by Victoria and Marcus. He had always believed she was a poor orphan with no family, just as Victoria had claimed.
"You knew?" Lorenzo asked, his voice low and dangerous, looking back at his uncle Dominic.
"I suspected," Dominic replied calmly, resting both hands on his silver-tipped cane. "Twenty years ago, Victoria orchestrated the collapse of Vance Pharmaceuticals to acquire their research patents on stem cell therapies. Clara’s father died in prison because of forged documents. Clara came into this mansion seeking justice, but she found you instead."
Victoria sneered from the floor, wiping blood from her cheek. "She was a spy! A traitor in my house! I knew who she was the moment she stepped through the front door! I let her stay because it amused me to watch a Vance scrub my floors!"
Lorenzo walked over slowly. Each step echoed against the concrete floor like a death knell. He stopped inches from Victoria, kneeling down until his eyes were level with hers.
"You knew," Lorenzo whispered. "You knew who she was, and you still made her beg for scraps. You made her sleep in the cold servant quarters while she was pregnant with my child."
"She deserved worse!" Victoria spat, her eyes wild with aristocratic arrogance. "And that child carries her treacherous blood! I should have disposed of her the day she was born!"
SLAP!
The sound crackled through the warehouse.
It wasn't Lorenzo who struck her. It was Dr. Evelyn Vance.
Evelyn stood over Victoria, her hand still raised, her body shaking with decades of suppressed rage. "That 'child' is the only pure thing left in this wretched family, Victoria. And you will answer for every drop of blood you stole from her."
Marcus grunted, trying to fight off the security guard holding him down. "Uncle Dominic! You can't side with them! They’re outsiders! If Julian dies, the Bellandi main branch loses its primary legal heir!"
Dominic didn't even look at Marcus. He raised his cane and struck Marcus across the chest, knocking the wind out of him. "Silence, you pathetic parasite. You are not an heir. You are a leech who hasn't earned a single dollar in your miserable life."
Dominic turned back to Lorenzo. "Lorenzo, the city isn't safe for her tonight. Victoria has paid off the chief of police, and Marcus has mercenaries patrolling the highway exits. But I have a private airstrip three miles south. My jet is prepped for Switzerland. Take your daughter, take Dr. Vance, and get out of the country."
Lorenzo looked at Dominic skeptically. "Why are you helping me, Dominic? Nothing in this family comes without a price."
Dominic smiled faintly, a bitter expression. "Your father was my brother, Lorenzo. I watched Victoria destroy him with her greed until he died of a broken heart. I couldn't save your father. I couldn't save Clara. Let me save your daughter."
Lorenzo looked at Isabella. The little girl was fast asleep in Dr. Vance’s arms now, exhausted from the antidote running through her veins. Her small pale face looked so fragile, yet so peaceful away from Victoria’s presence.
"All right," Lorenzo said. "We go to Switzerland."
"Good," Dominic said. He handed Lorenzo a heavy black leather folder. "Inside are the keys to the Vance family estate in Zurich, along with the master decryption key for the Vance Pharmaceutical archives. Everything Victoria stole from Clara’s family is backed up on an encrypted server in that estate. Use it. Tear her world down."
Lorenzo took the folder, his grip tightening around it. "I won't just tear it down. I will erase the Bellandi name from history."
"I count on it," Dominic murmured.
Dominic waved his hand, and his security team dragged Victoria and Marcus toward a black armored sedan. Victoria screamed hysterically, cursing Lorenzo and calling him a traitor, while Marcus begged his uncle for mercy. Their voices faded into the torrential rain as the car sped away into the night.
Lorenzo turned to Dr. Vance. "Let's go. We have a flight to catch."
They hurried out of the warehouse to a sleek black SUV prepared by Dominic’s men. Lorenzo took Isabella into his arms, wrapping her tightly in a warm woolen blanket, while Evelyn climbed into the front passenger seat.
As the SUV accelerated toward the private airstrip, the night seemed to quiet down. But as Lorenzo looked out the window at the distant city skyline, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
It was an automated security alert from his private estate in London—the home he had spent three years building for Isabella.
The live camera feed showed dark figures moving through the master bedroom, setting fire to Clara’s belongings, burning her journals, her pictures, and the wooden music box Lorenzo had left in his hurry.
On the screen, a message flashed from an anonymous burner number:
"You took our donor. We burn your memories. See you in Zurich, Lorenzo."
May you like
Lorenzo’s face hardened into solid granite. He closed the app, looking down at his sleeping daughter.
"They think this is over," Lorenzo whispered into the dark car. "They have no idea what's coming."
