Chapter 34: You're Too Late

Elena Vitiello POV

"You're too late."

The words blurred in front of my eyes.

My hands shook as I picked up the photograph.

My mother.

Alive.

Smiling.

Real.

The image couldn't have been more than a few days old.

Twenty years.

Twenty years of grief.

Twenty years of believing she was gone.

And she had been here.

In this house.

Breathing the same air.

Walking these floors.

Living a life I knew nothing about.

"When was this taken?" I whispered.

One of the agents examined the photo.

"Five days ago."

My stomach dropped.

Five days.

We had missed her by days.

"Damn it."

The curse came from Dante.

A rare loss of composure.

"Boss."

Marco pointed toward the laptop.

"There's more."

The screen displayed a security camera feed.

Paused.

Waiting.

"Play it."

The analyst clicked the file.

The video began immediately.

The timestamp showed forty-eight hours earlier.

The front door opened.

And there she was.

My mother.

Older.

Greyer.

But unmistakably her.

I couldn't breathe.

Couldn't look away.

Couldn't stop the tears.

"Mom..."

She moved through the room carrying groceries.

Completely unaware she was being recorded.

Completely normal.

Completely alive.

Then another figure appeared.

The room instantly became silent.

Lorenzo.

My mother's smile vanished immediately.

She looked terrified.

The video had no audio.

But her reaction said everything.

"Can you enhance it?" Dante asked.

"Trying."

The technician worked rapidly.

Within seconds the audio crackled to life.

"...twenty years," my mother was saying.

"Twenty years and you're still ruining lives."

Lorenzo smiled.

"I prefer shaping destinies."

"You're a monster."

"Perhaps."

"What do you want?"

"Your daughter."

The room froze.

"No."

"Yes."

"Leave Elena alone."

"Unfortunately, I can't do that anymore."

"She has the drive."

"Then take the drive."

"It's not the drive I'm interested in."

The smile on Lorenzo's face made my skin crawl.

"It's the leverage."

My mother stepped forward.

"You stay away from her."

"Or what?"

"I'll kill you myself."

Even through the screen...

I could see the fire in her eyes.

I understood immediately where my stubbornness came from.

"I missed you," I whispered.

Nobody heard.

Nobody was supposed to.

The video continued.

"You won't reach her in time," Lorenzo said.

"Watch me."

"No."

His smile widened.

"Watch her."

Then Lorenzo handed my mother something.

A folder.

A thick brown folder.

"What's that?" she demanded.

"The truth."

"I don't want anything from you."

"Your daughter will."

The video abruptly ended.

Silence consumed the room.

"Where is the folder?" Marco asked.

"Good question."

Everyone immediately started searching the house.

Drawers.

Closets.

Basement.

Attic.

Every inch.

An hour passed.

Nothing.

Two hours.

Nothing.

Then...

"Boss!"

Marco's voice echoed from upstairs.

"Found something."

We rushed toward the second floor.

A loose floorboard sat beside an old bed.

Hidden underneath...

The folder.

"Careful," Dante said.

"Why?"

"Because Lorenzo never gives gifts."

"Only traps."

The folder opened slowly.

Inside were photographs.

Documents.

Letters.

Records.

Decades of records.

"What am I looking at?" I asked.

Nobody answered immediately.

Because everyone was reading.

Then Dante went pale.

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"Dante."

"This isn't possible."

I grabbed the first document.

Read the header.

And immediately understood why.

Birth Records.

Confidential.

My eyes moved lower.

Then lower.

Then stopped.

The room tilted.

The paper nearly slipped from my hands.

"What is it?" Marco asked.

Nobody answered.

Because I couldn't.

Couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think.

Couldn't process what I was reading.

"Elena?"

The words felt distant.

Like they were coming from underwater.

Because the document claimed something impossible.

Something absurd.

Something life-changing.

According to the file...

The man who raised me wasn't my biological father.

And the name listed under biological father made my blood run cold.

Lorenzo Moretti.

The room exploded into chaos.

"That's fake," Marco immediately said.

"It has to be."

"Maybe," an agent replied.

"Maybe not."

"No."

Dante looked ready to kill someone.

"This is exactly what he wanted."

"To divide us."

"To confuse us."

"To destabilize everything."

"Then why include supporting records?" the analyst asked.

"DNA reports."

"Medical files."

"Hospital records."

Nobody had an answer.

Because there were too many documents.

Too many details.

Too much evidence.

And for the first time since finding the drive...

I began to understand Lorenzo's real weapon.

It wasn't money.

It wasn't power.

It wasn't violence.

It was information.

The ability to destroy a person's entire understanding of themselves.

One truth at a time.

Then suddenly an agent's radio crackled.

"We have movement."

"What kind of movement?" Dante asked.

"Vehicle approaching."

"One vehicle."

"No weapons detected."

"Driver requesting immediate contact with Elena Vitiello."

The room froze.

"Who is it?" I asked.

Several seconds passed.

Then the agent answered.

"Female."

"Mid-fifties."

"Claims to be your mother."