THE MAFIA KING'S ACCIDENTAL BRIDE

Chapter Three

The Truth He Buried

Elena didn't sleep.

She tried.

She turned off the lights, closed the curtains, and forced herself beneath the heavy blankets, but every time she closed her eyes, the same words appeared in her mind.

Ask Alessandro what happened to your father.

And then the second message.

Ask him why he was there the night Marco Moretti died.

She had read them so many times that she could almost hear the stranger's voice in her head.

At some point after three in the morning, Elena gave up pretending she would sleep.

She sat beside the window with her knees drawn against her chest, watching the gardens below.

The De Luca estate was silent.

Too silent.

There were guards stationed near the entrance, cameras covering nearly every corner, and security lights illuminating the grounds.

It should have made her feel safe.

Instead, she felt trapped.

Her father's death had always been a closed chapter in her life.

She had been seven years old when Marco Moretti died. She remembered very little about that night. Her mother had never spoken about it afterward. Whenever Elena asked questions, she was given the same simple explanation.

A car accident.

Her father was driving.

He didn't survive.

That was it.

No suspicious details. No enemies. No reason to question anything.

For years, Elena had accepted it.

Now she couldn't.

She picked up her phone again and stared at Alessandro's contact.

She didn't have his number.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

She was sitting inside a mafia boss's house, had been shot at because of him—or because of something connected to him—and had just discovered that he might know the truth about her father's death.

And she was considering whether to knock on his door.

Elena stood.

"Fine."

She slipped her feet into the slippers beside the bed and walked out.

The hallway was dimly lit.

She expected to find guards.

Instead, it was empty.

She walked toward the staircase, following the faint light coming from downstairs.

As she reached the bottom, she heard voices.

Alessandro.

And Isabella.

Elena stopped.

"I told you bringing her here was a mistake," Isabella said.

Alessandro's voice was low. "She was going to be killed."

"That isn't what I'm talking about."

Silence.

Then Isabella spoke again.

"She has her father's eyes."

Elena froze.

Her fingers tightened around the railing.

Alessandro didn't answer.

"After all these years," Isabella continued, "you really thought you could see her again and pretend nothing would happen?"

Again.

The word struck Elena harder than anything else.

See her again.

She had never met Alessandro before tonight.

At least, she didn't think she had.

Her heart began pounding.

Alessandro finally spoke.

"Keep your voice down."

"Why? Afraid she'll hear you?"

"Isabella."

"You were there, Alessandro."

Elena's breath caught.

"I know," he said.

There was something different in his voice now.

Not the controlled confidence she had heard all night.

Something darker.

Something tired.

"I know exactly where I was."

Elena stepped closer.

A floorboard creaked beneath her foot.

The voices stopped.

She didn't move.

A few seconds later, Alessandro appeared at the end of the corridor.

His eyes found hers immediately.

Neither of them spoke.

Then he looked past her toward the staircase.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough."

His jaw tightened.

Elena walked toward him.

"Was my father murdered?"

Alessandro said nothing.

"Answer me."

"Elena—"

"Was my father murdered?"

The silence was answer enough.

Her chest tightened.

She shook her head slowly.

"No."

Alessandro stepped closer.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

Her voice broke.

She hated it.

She had spent years believing her father's death was tragic but simple. She had built an entire life around that version of the story.

Now one conversation had shattered it.

"You knew him."

"Yes."

"You knew my father."

"Yes."

"How?"

Alessandro looked away for a moment.

"We worked together."

Elena stared at him.

"My father worked with you?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what exactly?"

He didn't answer.

She moved closer.

"You said you know a lot about me. You knew where I lived. You knew my apartment was being watched. Your aunt knew my name before you even introduced me."

Alessandro's expression hardened.

"Because your father was important."

"To you?"

His eyes met hers.

"Yes."

The answer was so quiet that it almost hurt more than a lie would have.

Elena swallowed.

"What happened to him?"

Alessandro looked at her for several seconds.

Then he said, "He was betrayed."

Her heart dropped.

"By who?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You were there."

His expression changed.

Elena's voice shook.

"The message said you were there the night he died."

"I was."

Everything inside her went still.

She had expected denial.

She had expected him to become angry.

She had expected another excuse.

She hadn't expected the truth.

"You were there," she whispered.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Alessandro looked toward the dark windows.

"It was fifteen years ago."

"I don't care."

"I know."

"Then tell me."

He remained silent.

Elena's frustration boiled over.

"You don't get to stand there and decide what I can handle. It's my father. My mother. My life."

At the mention of her mother, Alessandro's expression shifted.

Elena noticed.

"My mother knew you too?"

He didn't answer.

"Did she?"

"Yes."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"How much of my childhood was a lie?"

Alessandro stepped toward her.

"Not everything."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I can give you tonight."

She laughed bitterly.

"Tonight?"

"You've just been shot at. Someone is watching your apartment. A man was murdered because of something connected to my family, and you've discovered that I knew your parents."

He paused.

"You're not in a state to hear everything."

"Don't tell me what state I'm in."

"I watched your parents die."

Elena stopped breathing.

Alessandro's words hung between them.

There was no room for misunderstanding.

No room for pretending.

He had watched them die.

Her parents.

Both of them.

Elena stared at him.

"You were there when they died?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

His face became unreadable.

"There was an attack."

"Who attacked them?"

"I don't know."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to believe that I haven't found the person responsible."

"You were there!"

"I was seventeen."

The anger in his voice startled her.

Alessandro took a breath and lowered it again.

"I was seventeen when I walked into that house. I wasn't the man I am now. I didn't have the power I have now. I couldn't stop what happened."

Elena's eyes burned.

"You saw them die."

"Yes."

"And you left me?"

His expression broke for the first time.

Just slightly.

But Elena saw it.

"I didn't know you were alive."

She stared at him.

"What?"

"The attackers believed there were no survivors."

"My mother?"

Alessandro looked away.

"Your mother was already gone."

Elena's knees weakened.

She reached for the nearest table.

Alessandro moved toward her, but she immediately stepped back.

"Don't."

He stopped.

She wiped the tears from her face.

"You knew I survived."

"I found out later."

"When?"

"Years afterward."

"And you never looked for me?"

"I did."

She stared at him.

"Then why didn't you find me?"

"Because someone was looking for you too."

Elena's stomach turned.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Again."

"I know how it sounds."

"It sounds like you're hiding something."

"I am."

The bluntness of his answer silenced her.

Alessandro looked directly at her.

"Because some truths can get you killed before you're ready to know them."

Elena shook her head.

"I've already been shot at."

"I know."

"So I'm past ready."

He studied her face.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Alessandro reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object.

A photograph.

He held it toward her.

Elena hesitated before taking it.

The photograph was old, slightly faded around the edges.

Her breath caught.

There was her father.

Younger than she remembered.

Standing beside her mother.

And beside them was a teenage Alessandro.

Elena stared at the picture.

She had never seen it before.

But there was something else.

Something in the background.

A black car.

And a man standing beside it.

She looked closer.

Her heart stopped.

"I know him."

Alessandro's eyes narrowed.

"Who?"

"My father's old business partner."

She looked up.

"He was at my father's funeral."

Alessandro went completely still.

"That's impossible."

"Why?"

"Because he died the same night your parents did."

Elena's fingers tightened around the photograph.

The room suddenly felt colder.

Someone had lied to her.

Not once.

Not twice.

For fifteen years.

And now she knew one thing for certain.

Her parents' deaths had never been an accident.

They had been murdered.

And somehow, Alessandro De Luca had been there when it happened.

Before she could ask another question, the sound of a gunshot exploded from outside.

Elena screamed.

Alessandro grabbed her and pulled her against him.

Another shot shattered one of the downstairs windows.

His men rushed into the hallway.

"Boss!"

Alessandro pushed Elena behind him.

His entire expression had changed.

The man who had been quietly answering her questions was gone.

The mafia king had returned.

"Lock down the estate."

His men moved immediately.

Alessandro looked toward the broken window.

Then at Elena.

"Stay here."

She grabbed his arm.

"Alessandro."

He turned.

She held up the photograph.

"Someone wants me dead because of what happened to my parents, don't they?"

He didn't answer.

That was enough.

Elena's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Whoever killed my parents knows I'm alive."

Alessandro's eyes hardened.

"Yes."

Another gunshot echoed across the estate.

And somewhere beyond the gates, a car engine roared to life.

Alessandro reached for his weapon.

Then he looked at Elena with something dangerously close to fear in his eyes.

"They know you're here."