Part 4: The Confession in the Dark
“Drop the weapon, Alex,” a voice hissed from the shadows.
Fiona stepped out from behind a massive wine rack. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her designer trench coat stained with mud at the hem, and her face twisted into a mask of desperate fury. In her shaking right hand, she held a compact revolver aimed squarely at Alex’s chest.
Alex didn’t flinch. He didn’t even lower his gun; he simply shifted his stance, placing himself slightly more in front of Isabella.
“Fiona,” Alex said, his voice cold enough to freeze water. “You’re trespassing in your brother’s house with a loaded firearm. Have you lost your mind entirely?”
“You’re the one who lost everything, Alex,” Fiona laughed, a harsh, unstable sound. “You and your precious little wife, playing house while the empire crumbles around you. You think you own the world because Victor handed you the keys? He handed them to the wrong son.”
Isabella kept her eyes on Fiona, but her mind was racing back to the photograph on the table. The young woman with dark eyes. The name on the medical file. Daniel Romano-Alvarez.
Alvarez.
Teresa’s last name was Alvarez.
The pieces clicked together with terrifying clarity.
“Teresa isn’t a random employee,” Isabella said loudly, cutting through Fiona’s rant. “She’s connected to Daniel. That’s why Grace tortured her for months. Not to save money—to keep her quiet about the other child.”
Fiona’s face paled, her grip on the revolver trembling violently. “Shut up. Shut your mouth!”
“There’s a daughter, isn't there?” Isabella pressed, stepping half an inch out from behind Alex. “Daniel had a child. Or Teresa had a child with Victor? No—Teresa’s son, Mateo. He’s not just a nursing student. He’s an heir.”
“He’s nothing!” Fiona shrieked, her finger tightening on the trigger. “He’s a nobody! A peasant living in a rundown apartment! He has no right to the Romano name, to the trusts, to any of it!”
“Fiona, drop the gun,” Alex warned, his finger tightening on his own trigger. One twitch from Fiona meant a firefight in a confined space.
“I won’t!” Fiona cried, tears spilling over her mascara-stained cheeks. “Mother tried to hide it for thirty years! She paid Teresa off, she made her sign NDAs, she made her work as a servant in her own family’s home just to keep an eye on her! But the secret got out. The letter was sent. And when you two tried to play savior, you invited the wrecking ball right through your front door.”
“Who sent the letter?” Alex demanded.
Before Fiona could answer, a heavy thud echoed from the spiral staircase above.
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“Mr. Romano!” Marco’s voice boomed down the stairwell, accompanied by the sound of boots rushing toward the cellar. “Perimeter breach! Grace Romano is at the front gate with federal marshals!”
Fiona’s eyes widened in panic. “They’re here.”
