The Dance of the Scarred King

Part 3: The Daughter of a Dangerous Secret

Leandro didn’t speak for several seconds.

Then he asked, “Your father was Patrick Donnelly?”

I nodded.

“How do you know his name?”

He looked at the photograph again.

“Because Patrick was the last person to see Isabella alive.”

My knees almost gave way.

“That’s impossible. My father was an accountant. He never worked for you.”

“He wasn’t an accountant, Clare. Not originally.”

Leandro signaled his security chief.

“Get the car ready. We’re leaving.”

I shook my head.

“Wait. I need to understand what’s happening.”

He turned toward me.

“I won’t force you to come with me. But if Richard knows your identity, you’re in danger.”

“My identity? What does that mean?”

Leandro lowered his voice.

“Your father worked for my family before he disappeared from our business records. He was responsible for investigating financial transactions. Four years ago, he discovered that someone had transferred millions of dollars through accounts connected to Isabella’s disappearance.”

“And you think my father knew what happened to her?”

“I think he knew more than he told anyone.”

I remembered the locked drawer in my father’s study.

After his death, I had found a small brass key hidden inside his favorite book. But I had never discovered what it opened.

Suddenly, I wondered whether the two things were connected.

“Leandro, I have something at home.”

“What?”

“A key. My father left it behind with a note saying that if anyone ever asked about the winter accident, I should open the drawer and read everything inside.”

Leandro stared at me.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because I thought it was just another strange thing my father had written before he died.”

He took a slow breath.

“Where is it?”

“At my apartment.”

“Then we’ll go there.”

Forty minutes later, we arrived at my modest apartment.

Leandro’s black SUV was followed by two security vehicles.

I unlocked the door and led him inside.

He looked around quietly.

Unlike his enormous mansion, my apartment was small and filled with ordinary things: books, family photographs, a few plants, and an old wooden desk that had belonged to my father.

I opened the bottom drawer.

The brass key was still there.

My hands trembled as I inserted it into a hidden lock beneath the desk.

A small compartment clicked open.

Inside were three things.

An old photograph.

A sealed envelope.

And a hospital bracelet.

I picked up the photograph first.

It showed my father standing beside Isabella.

But there was something else.

A baby was sleeping in Isabella’s arms.

On the back, my father had written:

October 18. The child is alive. Richard must never find out.

I covered my mouth.

Leandro took the photograph from my trembling hands.

His face went completely pale.

“That’s my daughter.”

I looked at him.

“Your daughter?”

He nodded slowly.

“Isabella gave birth after the accident. Someone hid her from me.”

I opened the envelope.

The letter inside was written by my father.

Clare, if you’re reading this, then the people I feared have finally discovered who you are.

I need you to know that I didn’t simply work for the Vitali family. I helped Isabella escape because Richard ordered her death.

She survived the accident, but Richard wanted the child. He believed the baby was the only person who could inherit a hidden portion of the Vitali empire.

I helped Isabella disappear. I gave her a new identity and arranged for her to be protected.

But I couldn’t protect her forever.

My hands began shaking harder.

There was another paragraph.

The reason I chose you to keep this secret is that Isabella trusted me with something else. She asked me to protect the person who would eventually reunite her family.

I stopped reading.

Leandro looked at me.

“What is it?”

I turned the page.

The final sentence made my entire world collapse.

Clare, the baby Isabella gave birth to was not the only child she carried that night.

I stared at the words.

Leandro slowly raised his eyes.

“What does that mean?”

I could barely breathe.

“My father wrote that Isabella had twins.”

Before either of us could say another word, my phone rang.

An unknown number.

I answered.

A woman’s trembling voice came through.

“Clare? My name is Isabella Vitali.”

Leandro froze.

The woman continued.

“Your father promised me he would keep you safe. But I think Richard has found out where you live.”

A loud crash suddenly came from the hallway.

Leandro pulled me behind him.

His security chief shouted from outside.

“Sir! We have company!”

Then the woman on the phone whispered something that made Leandro’s face turn white.

“Leandro, darling, there’s something you need to know.”

A pause.

“One of our children has been living under your roof for four years.”

The call ended.

And before I could understand what she meant, someone knocked three times on my apartment door.

Leandro reached for his weapon.

A familiar voice spoke from the other side.

“Mr. Vitali, it’s Richard.”

Then he added calmly:

“Open the door. I believe it’s time we discussed your family.”

End of Part 3.