Chapter 11 - The Ghost of the Past
Hannah stared at the photograph until her eyes burned, her mind completely rejecting what she was seeing.
The man standing next to Vincent Moretti under the Italian sun was undoubtedly her father, Arthur.
He looked healthier and wealthier than she had ever seen him in her entire life.
The crushing medical debt, the tiny Queens apartment, the agonizing tears she shed over his grave—it had all been a meticulously crafted lie.
Her hands began to shake violently, but she quickly slipped the photo into her pocket before Dominic could turn around.
Dominic walked back to the sofa, his sharp eyes immediately noticing the sudden paleness of her skin.
He asked her if she was feeling alright, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Hannah forced a smile, blaming her sudden anxiety on a lingering nightmare from the warehouse.
She could not tell him the truth yet, terrified of what he would do if he knew her bloodline was tied to his greatest enemy.
Later that night, long after the girls and Dominic had fallen asleep, Hannah crept into his private home office.
She booted up his highly secure computer, relying on the password she had seen him type a dozen times.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she searched for flight manifests and death certificates matching her father’s name.
What she found made her blood run completely cold.
There was no death certificate for Arthur, only a heavily redacted transfer of funds to an offshore account.
Her father had not just faked his death; he had actively sold her genetic profile to the Moretti syndicate.
He had traded his own daughter's body for a lifetime of unimaginable luxury.
Suddenly, the heavy oak door of the office clicked shut, plunging the room into shadows.
Dominic stood in the doorway, his silhouette imposing and his expression completely unreadable.
He did not yell or reach for a weapon, but the absolute stillness of his posture was terrifying.
He quietly stated that he had known about the photograph since the moment it arrived in the mail.
Hannah gasped, tears of betrayal and confusion finally spilling down her cheeks.
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Dominic walked over, turning the monitor off with a decisive click before wrapping his arms around her trembling shoulders.
He whispered that she was not her father, and they were going to Italy to bury the ghosts of her past forever.
