lI couldn't stop staring at Samuel's lifeless body.
Only minutes ago, he had been standing in front of me, promising answers about my father's death. Now, he lay motionless on the marble floor, his blood spreading beneath him.
Six years of questions, and the only person who could answer them was gone.
"Elena, look at me."
Adrian's voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I turned toward him, barely noticing the glass scattered around us.
"Who killed him?" I whispered.
"We'll find out."
"That's what everyone says!" My voice cracked. "My father died, and nobody told me the truth. Now this man comes here to explain everything, and someone kills him before he can finish!"
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"I won't let the same thing happen to you."
I laughed bitterly. "You can't promise that."
"Watch me."
Before I could respond, Marco approached us.
"Boss, the attackers have retreated. We've secured the perimeter."
"Find out how they got past our security," Adrian ordered. "And I want every camera recording from the last twenty-four hours."
"Understood."
Marco glanced at Samuel's body before lowering his voice.
"We also recovered something from the entrance."
He handed Adrian a small black envelope.
Adrian opened it and removed a photograph.
The moment he saw it, his expression changed.
"What is it?" I asked.
He hesitated before showing me.
The photograph depicted my father standing beside a black car. A younger Adrian's father stood next to him, while Victor Hale watched them from behind.
On the back, someone had written a single sentence.
ONE OF YOU KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED THAT NIGHT.
My stomach twisted.
"What night?"
Adrian stared at the photograph.
"The night my father died."
I looked at him in disbelief.
"You think our fathers' deaths are connected?"
"I don't think so, Elena. I know so."
He turned toward Marco.
"Get the car ready. We're going to the bank."
I immediately stood.
"I'm coming with you."
"No."
"Adrian—"
"It's too dangerous."
"Someone just tried to kill me in your house! Don't tell me it's dangerous as though I haven't noticed!"
His eyes narrowed.
"This isn't a game."
"Neither is my father's death!"
For a moment, we stared at each other.
Then Adrian exhaled sharply.
"Stay close to me. Don't touch anything unless I tell you to, and if I say run, you run."
I lifted my chin.
"Fine."
"And Elena?"
"What now?"
"Don't shoot anyone this time."
I glared at him.
"I make no promises."
Despite everything, the corner of his mouth lifted.
The bank's private vault was located beneath an old building in the city center. Although the main branch had closed years ago, the underground facility remained operational under a different name.
Adrian brought four armed men with us.
I suspected he would have brought twenty if I'd allowed him.
An employee examined the brass key before leading us through a secured corridor.
"Box 317," she explained. "It hasn't been accessed in six years."
My heart pounded as she unlocked the vault.
Inside lay a small metal container.
I opened it with trembling hands.
There were several documents, a photograph, and a sealed letter bearing my father's handwriting.
I recognized it immediately.
My eyes burned.
"Elena?" Adrian murmured.
I unfolded the letter.
My dearest Elena,
If you're reading this, something has happened to me, and the truth has finally begun to surface.
I'm sorry I kept so much from you. Everything I did was meant to protect you, but I fear my silence may have put you in greater danger.
The money was never the real secret. It was the names behind the transactions, the people who believed themselves untouchable.
One of them is someone you have every reason to trust.
Do not trust the Moretti family blindly. Not even the son who believes he knows the truth.
My hands went cold.
Slowly, I lowered the letter.
Adrian was watching me.
"What does it say?"
I couldn't answer.
He reached for the paper, but I pulled it against my chest.
"Let me read it," he said.
"Your father is mentioned in it."
His expression hardened.
"Elena, I'm trying to protect you."
"And I'm trying to understand why my father warned me about your family!"
Silence filled the vault.
For the first time, Adrian looked genuinely wounded.
Then his expression became unreadable.
"Show me the letter."
I hesitated before handing it over.
He read the words in silence.
When he reached the final sentence, his fingers tightened around the paper.
"My father would never have betrayed yours."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I knew him."
"You knew the man he wanted you to see."
Adrian looked at me sharply.
Before he could respond, Marco entered the room.
"Boss, we have a problem."
Adrian folded the letter.
"What now?"
Marco held up his phone.
"We traced the message sent after the shooting. It came from a number registered to a private account."
"And?"
Marco hesitated.
"The account belongs to someone inside the Moretti organization."
My heart sank.
Adrian's face turned cold.
"Who?"
Marco looked directly at him.
"Lucian Moretti."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
I remembered Lucian's smile, his easy charm, and the way he had welcomed me into the estate.
Then I remembered Samuel's final warning.
Don't trust...
I looked at Adrian.
His expression was frighteningly calm.
"Call my brother," he ordered.
Marco nodded and stepped outside.
I gripped the letter.
"Adrian, what if your brother knows who killed my father?"
Adrian looked at the photograph of our fathers.
"Then he'll tell us the truth."
"And if he refuses?"
His dark eyes met mine.
"Then I'll make sure he has nowhere left to hide."
My phone suddenly vibrated.
An unknown number.
A single message appeared on the screen.
YOUR FATHER DIDN'T DIE BECAUSE HE KNEW TOO MUCH. HE DIED BECAUSE HE LOVED YOU TOO MUCH.
Another message followed.
ASK ADRIAN WHAT HAPPENED THE NIGHT YOUR FATHER DIED.
I slowly raised my eyes toward him.
"Adrian?"
He looked at me.
"What happened the night my father died?"
For the first time, he didn't answer immediately.
And in that terrible silence, I realized something.
The truth wasn't hiding somewhere in the past.
It was standing right in front of me.
And the man I was beginning to trust might know far more about my father's death than he had ever admitted.