Chapter 4: What Elena Left Behind
I didn't sleep that night.
After Victor left, I sat with the children until the younger ones drifted off.
Daniel stayed awake longest, sitting on the edge of his bed with his arms crossed, watching the door.
"Do you trust him?" Daniel asked.
"I don't know yet."
"That man in the coat wanted us gone."
"I know."
"So why did Victor tell us to stay?"
I didn't have an answer.
I pulled the thin blanket over Mia's shoulders and sat down across from Daniel.
"Because something in that photograph stopped him," I said finally.
"Whatever Elena was to him — it mattered."
Daniel looked at the wall where the photograph had been.
Victor had set it on the shelf before he left.
It was still there.
"She never talked about him," Daniel said.
"Elena, I mean.
She talked about all of us.
She never talked about herself."
"I know."
"Do you think Noah is really—"
"I don't know," I said.
"And neither do you.
So don't say it out loud yet."
Daniel nodded slowly.
He lay down and turned toward the wall.
I stayed awake until the building was completely silent.
In the morning, I found an envelope that had been slid under the side door.
My name was written on the front in handwriting I didn't recognize.
Inside was a single folded page.
A letter, handwritten, dated eight months earlier.
The ink was slightly smeared at the edges, the way paper gets when someone's hands are unsteady.
*Olivia.
If you are reading this, I am already gone.
I left this with someone I trust, with instructions to deliver it if anything happened to me before I could tell you myself.*
*There are things about these children you do not know.
Things I should have told you sooner.
I was afraid of what it would set in motion.*
*Noah is not like the others.
His situation is different.
His father is alive.
He does not know about Noah.
I made that choice, and I have regretted it every day since.*
*His name is Victor Moretti.*
I sat down on the bottom step.
I read the line again.
Then I read the rest.
*I met Victor years ago, before his empire, before the name meant what it means now.
We were close for a short time.
When I realized I was expecting, I was frightened.
I knew what his family was.
I knew what they would do with a child they considered inconvenient.
So I disappeared.
I told no one.
I raised Noah alone, with the others, in this place.*
*I do not know if telling Victor is the right thing.
I only know that I cannot make that choice anymore.
You will have to.*
*Whatever you decide — protect them.
That is all I ever asked of you.*
*Elena.*
My hands were not steady when I folded the letter.
I put it back in the envelope.
I put the envelope in the bottom of my backpack, under the wallet and the keys.
I sat there for a long time.
Then the side door opened and Victor walked in.
He looked at me sitting on the step.
He looked at the backpack in my hands.
"You found it," he said.
I went still.
"You knew about the letter."
"Elena told me she had written one.
She told me she had left it for you." He came down the stairs slowly and sat on the step two above me, so we were nearly at the same level.
"She called me.
Three weeks before she passed.
It was the first time I had heard her voice in four years."
"What did she say?"
"She said she had done something she couldn't undo.
She said there was a child." He stopped.
"She said she was sorry."
"Did she tell you his name?"
"No.
She couldn't finish the call." His voice was even.
Carefully even.
"She passed six days later.
I didn't know where she was.
I didn't know about this building.
I spent four months trying to find out if what she said was real."
"And then you hired me."
He looked at me.
"You came through an agency," I said slowly.
"The same agency Elena used for her groceries.
The one that knew this address."
He didn't deny it.
"You hired me because you thought I would lead you here."
"I hired you," he said, "because the agency told me you were the one who had been collecting her orders after she passed.
And yes.
I thought you might know something."
I stood up.
"You used me."
"I needed to find them."
"You used a thirteen-year-old girl to find a child you didn't even know existed until three weeks before her mother d*ed." My voice came out harder than I expected.
"For four months I worked in your house and you never once told me why."
"Would you have told me the truth if I had asked directly?"
I didn't answer.
Because the answer was no, and we both knew it.
He stood as well.
"I'm not your enemy, Olivia."
"You haven't proven you're not Richard's either."
That landed.
I saw it in the way his expression tightened.
Before he could respond, Lucas appeared at the basement door above us, looking down.
May you like
"Olivia," Lucas said quietly.
"Someone's outside."
