Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Gone
“Who disappeared?”
Arya asked.
Marcus looked pleased with himself.
Dante did not.
“Her name was Claire Mitchell.”
Arya’s breath stopped.
“My biological mother?”
Marcus nodded.
“She didn’t die.”
Dante stood.
“My mother’s letter says she did.”
“Your mother believed what she was told.”
Arya stared at Marcus.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
“My mother told me Claire died after giving birth.”
“Eleanor was told the same thing.”
Arya felt the room tilt.
“No.”
Marcus opened his briefcase again.
This time, he removed a recent photograph.
A woman in her late forties stood outside a small bookstore.
Blonde.
Thin.
Alive.
On the back was a date.
Three months earlier.
Arya looked at Eleanor.
Her adoptive mother had joined them in the library.
Eleanor’s hands began shaking.
“Claire.”
Arya turned.
“You recognize her?”
Eleanor pressed a hand over her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
“Mama.”
“I thought she was dead.”
Marcus leaned against the table.
“She wasn’t.”
Dante’s voice became dangerously calm.
“How do you have this photograph?”
“My investigators found her.”
“You knew?”
“For six months.”
Arya stared.
“Six months?”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe my mother was dead?”
Marcus shrugged.
“I wasn’t aware we had become close enough for personal updates.”
Dante stepped forward.
Arya touched his arm.
“Don’t.”
He stopped instantly.
Marcus noticed.
So did Arya.
She faced him.
“Where is she?”
“I can arrange a meeting.”
“Where?”
“There are conditions.”
“No.”
Marcus smiled.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not bargaining for information about my own mother.”
“You want what I know.”
“And you want something from me.”
“Smart girl.”
Dante spoke.
“Leave.”
Marcus ignored him.
“Arya owns, potentially, twenty-four percent of the holding company. I own sixteen. Dante controls fifty-one.”
Arya frowned.
“That’s ninety-one.”
“The remaining shares belong to minor family trusts.”
“What do you want?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Your voting rights.”
Dante laughed coldly.
“No.”
Marcus continued.
“In exchange, I give you Claire’s location.”
Arya’s anger sharpened.
“You think I’ll sign away millions to learn an address?”
“I think people do extraordinary things for family.”
Arya moved closer.
“So do I.”
Marcus smiled.
“Good.”
“But I learned something from Dante.”
Marcus’s smile faded slightly.
“What?”
“Family doesn’t mean letting people control you.”
Dante looked at her.
Arya continued.
“You’ll give me her location because if you don’t, we’ll find her ourselves.”
“Confidence is charming.”
“So is patience.”
She smiled.
“And you just made the mistake of confirming she’s alive.”
Marcus left without another word.
It took four days to find Claire.
Four days during which Arya barely slept.
Dante slept less.
He made calls.
Arya searched public records.
Eleanor remembered old friends.
Finally, Mrs. Callaway found something unexpected.
“Mr. Valentino?”
They were in the breakfast room.
“I may know the bookstore.”
Arya turned.
“How?”
Mrs. Callaway looked uncomfortable.
“I’ve been there.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
Dante stared.
“You knew Claire?”
“No.”
Mrs. Callaway swallowed.
“But your mother did.”
She explained.
After Isabella’s death, Mrs. Callaway had found several receipts for a bookstore in Vermont.
Same town.
Same street.
They drove there the next morning.
Dante offered to stay behind.
Arya refused.
“You’re coming.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
That made him smile.
The bookstore was small.
Quiet.
A bell rang when Arya opened the door.
A woman behind the counter looked up.
The world stopped.
Arya knew her.
Not personally.
But biologically.
It was in the shape of her eyes.
The curve of her chin.
The way she tilted her head.
The woman went pale.
“Arya.”
Hearing her name nearly broke her.
“You know who I am.”
Claire began crying.
“I’ve known since the day you were born.”
Arya stood frozen.
“Then why didn’t you come back?”
Claire covered her mouth.
Dante remained near the door.
Quiet.
Giving them space.
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Many times.”
“I’m twenty-five.”
“I know.”
“Twenty-five years.”
“I know.”
“Where were you?”
Claire’s shoulders shook.
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“The Valentinos.”
Dante stiffened.
Claire noticed him.
Her face drained of color.
“You brought him.”
“He helped me find you.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
Claire sat.
So did Arya.
The story came slowly.
Claire had fallen in love with Samuel Mitchell.
Arya’s biological father.
Samuel worked as an accountant for one of Vittorio Valentino’s companies.
He discovered money being diverted.
Not by Vittorio.
By Marcus.
Samuel threatened to expose it.
Soon afterward, he disappeared.
Claire was pregnant.
Terrified.
Isabella Valentino helped her.
Eleanor agreed to care for the baby temporarily.
Then Claire received a message.
Leave.
Disappear.
Or Arya would be in danger too.
Claire believed it.
She fled.
Isabella later convinced her that Arya was safe with Eleanor.
“But why didn’t you return when Isabella died?”
Claire cried harder.
“Because Marcus found me.”
Arya’s blood went cold.
“What did he say?”
“He said if I ever came near you, he would destroy Eleanor financially and take you into Valentino custody.”
Dante shook his head.
“He couldn’t have.”
“I was twenty-four. Alone. Your father was gone. I believed him.”
Arya’s anger collapsed into grief.
“You could have written.”
“I did.”
“Never got anything.”
“I sent letters every birthday.”
Eleanor’s voice cracked behind them.
Everyone turned.
She had insisted on coming.
Arya stood.
“You knew?”
“No.”
Eleanor stared at Claire.
“I never received anything.”
Claire walked toward her.
The two women looked at each other after twenty-five years.
Then they embraced.
Arya cried.
Dante looked away.
Hours later, Claire showed them copies of letters.
Birthday cards.
Photographs.
Attempts to contact Eleanor.
All returned.
Intercepted.
At the bottom of an old storage box sat one final envelope.
Claire handed it to Arya.
“This came from Isabella shortly before she died.”
Inside was a signed statement.
Isabella clearly declared Arya part of the protected family trust.
The twenty-four percent was hers.
But there was more.
Attached was a financial record showing Marcus had been stealing from Valentino companies for decades.
Dante stared at it.
“This can remove him from every family company.”
Claire nodded.
“That’s why he wanted my voting rights.”
Arya finally understood.
Marcus hadn’t offered to reveal Claire because he cared about the truth.
He wanted power.
Dante looked at Arya.
“What do you want to do?”
She placed a protective hand over her still-small pregnancy.
“End it.”
“The trust?”
“No.”
She looked at Claire.
“At Marcus’s control over all of us.”
They returned to New York with the evidence.
But when they reached the Valentino estate, something was wrong.
The front doors stood open.
Staff gathered in the entrance hall.
Mrs. Callaway looked terrified.
“What happened?” Dante demanded.
She handed him an envelope.
“It was left for Miss Mitchell.”
Arya opened it.
Inside was her original birth certificate.
And a single handwritten sentence.
You found Claire. Now ask Dante what happened to Samuel.
Arya looked up.
Dante’s face changed.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
She whispered, “You know something.”
“Arya—”
“You know what happened to my father.”
Dante said nothing.
May you like
And that silence frightened her more than any answer could have.
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