Chapter 5 - behind the mahogany frame
Clara couldn't sleep. The clock on her nightstand read 2:15 AM.
Across the room, Leo was still resting peacefully, his breathing deep and steady for the first time in months. Knowing he was safe, Clara put on her black flats, wrapped her cardigan around her shoulders, and slipped back into the dark hallway.
She needed answers. The note, the locket, Bianca’s hostility—it all pointed back to one place: Rico’s private study.
She navigated the silent mansion until she reached the heavy mahogany doors of the library on the main floor. The room was dark, lit only by the faint embers glowing in the massive stone fireplace.
Clara slipped inside, closing the door behind her without a sound.
The study was magnificent, lined with thousands of leather-bound volumes, legal files, and antique weapons mounted on display plaques. She moved quietly behind Rico’s grand executive desk, opening the top drawer. It was locked. She tried the second drawer—unlocked.
Inside were stacks of financial ledgers, land deeds, and old photographs. She flipped through them quickly until her hand struck a thick brown envelope marked with a dark red wax seal.
On the front of the envelope, written in bold black ink, was a single name: ELENA VANCE MORETTI.
Clara’s heart hammered against her ribs. Vance? Rico’s late wife was a Vance?
With trembling fingers, Clara broke the seal and pulled out the document inside. It was a birth registry from twenty-four years ago, alongside a formal adoption record and a confidential medical report.
She scanned the lines quickly, her eyes widening in disbelief:
Child Name: Clara Vance
Mother: Margaret Vance
Father: Arthur Vance
Biological Sister: Elena Vance
Clara gasped, dropping the papers onto the desk blotter.
Elena Moretti wasn't just Rico's late wife. She was Clara's estranged half-sister—the daughter her father had abandoned before moving upstate.
"You weren't supposed to find those until morning," a low, deep voice echoed from the dark corner of the room.
May you like
Clara spun around.
Rico sat in a high-backed leather chair near the fireplace, holding a crystal glass of scotch. The amber liquid reflected the red embers of the fire, casting dark shadows across his sharp, handsome features.
