Chapter 6 - Secrets Revealed
The morning after the shooting, the atmosphere in the mansion was suffocatingly tense. Giovanni had left before sunrise with Marco to "clean up the mess," leaving a double security detail around the house.
I sat at the kitchen island, staring into my coffee cup, the memory of his kiss still burning on my lips. I was terrified, yet desperately in love with a man who lived in the shadows.
"Mommy? Why are there so many men with suits outside?" Lily asked, walking into the kitchen, holding her teddy bear.
"They're just making sure the house stays safe, sweetie," I said, putting on a brave smile. "Go get your backpack. The driver will take you to school in a few minutes."
Once Lily left, my phone rang. It was an unknown number.
"Jessica," a cold, familiar voice said. Francesca.
My blood ran cold. "What do you want?"
"I want to offer you a way out of the grave Giovanni is digging for you," Francesca said smoothly. "Meet me at the cafe on 4th Street in one hour. Come alone, or I will ensure your little daughter’s school receives a very disturbing anonymous tip about the kind of 'criminal environment' she is being raised in."
"Don't you dare threaten my daughter," I hissed, my knuckles turning white around the phone.
"Then meet me. One hour, Jessica. Let's see how much your fake husband really told you."
Against my better judgment, I didn't tell Marco. I slipped out through the service entrance while the guards were rotating shifts, taking a taxi to the designated cafe. My heart was in my throat, but I couldn't let Francesca target Lily.
The cafe was quiet. Francesca sat in a corner booth, dressed in an immaculate cream trench coat, sipping tea. Two large men stood near the exit, eyeing me as I walked in.
I sat down opposite her. "Speak fast. I don't have time for your games."
Francesca smiled, a cruel, satisfied smirk. She slid a thick manila folder across the table toward me. "Giovanni thinks he’s so clever. He told you he married you to avoid a business alliance, didn't he? He told you it was all a fake contract to protect his power."
"It is a contract," I said, keeping my face expressionless.
"Oh, my dear child. You really are naive," Francesca mocked. "Open the folder."
With trembling fingers, I opened it. Inside were medical records, old police reports, and a document dated exactly five years ago. My eyes scanned the text, and my breath caught in my throat.
It was a custody filing for a child—a child named Lily Hale. But the petitioner's name at the bottom wasn't Tyler Brooks. It was a shell corporation owned entirely by Fierro Logistics.
"What is this?" I whispered, my world spinning.
"Five years ago, your pathetic ex-husband Tyler owed a massive gambling debt to one of Giovanni’s loan sharks," Francesca explained, leaning forward, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Giovanni was going to have him eliminated. But Tyler offered him a deal instead. He told Giovanni he could sell him information about a brilliant young medical student—you—who was pregnant with a child who could be used as a future bargaining chip against your wealthy extended family. Giovanni paid off Tyler's debt, bought the rights to your daughter's future custody, and kept tabs on you for five years."
The room felt like it was tilting.
"No... no, that's a lie," I stammered, tears blurring my vision.
"Is it?" Francesca laughed coldly. "Why do you think Giovanni knew your name, your age, your daughter's name, and exactly where you worked the second he met you at that wedding? It wasn't a coincidence, Jessica. He didn't pick you out of a crowd to be a fake wife. He brought you into his house because he already owned the rights to your daughter. He used you to secure his position, and once the six months are up, he will use that legal paperwork to take Lily away from you permanently, ensuring the Fierro line has a legitimate heir."
The betrayal hit me like a physical blow to the chest. The Lego castles. The private school. The tender kisses. It was all a calculated, five-year plan to steal my daughter.
"You're lying," I choked out, slamming the folder shut.
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"Am I? Ask him yourself," Francesca said, standing up and smoothing her coat. "Or better yet, take your daughter and run before he realizes you know the truth. Because in a war with Giovanni Fierro, no one survives."
I grabbed the folder, stood up on shaking legs, and stumbled out of the cafe into the pouring rain, my heart shattered into a million pieces.
