Chapter 3

They hadn't hidden me to keep me safe.

They hid me because they were afraid people would discover I was the Morettis' biological daughter and treat me differently.

My parents had told me the same thing my entire life.

"We spent years building the Moretti Foundation and helping people. We didn't do it so our daughter could use our name for special treatment."

To keep our relationship secret, they registered me under my grandmother's surname and sent me to live far from the Moretti estate.

They never attended a single school event.

Growing up, everyone assumed I was an orphan.

Adela was different.

The Morettis had adopted the daughter of a notorious killer and publicly declared that a child should never pay for her father's crimes.

The story transformed my parents into celebrated philanthropists and gave the Moretti family a respectable face far removed from its criminal empire.

So they gave Adela everything.

They attended her performances, charity events, and public appearances.

They even allowed her to run social media accounts as "The Moretti Family's Adopted Daughter," turning her into a public figure.

Whenever I questioned their favoritism, the answer was always the same.

"Everyone knows Adela is our daughter. Of course we have to treat her well. Otherwise, people will accuse us of hypocrisy."

"You're our biological daughter. Nothing can change that."

"But Adela had such a miserable childhood. What's wrong with giving her a little more?"

A little more.

They had given her everything.

If my father hadn't knocked over my wheelchair before leaving, maybe I could have found somewhere to hide.

Instead, I was still lying helplessly on the floor when glass shattered behind me.

The killer climbed through the window.

I tried to drag myself away.

My nails broke against the floorboards, leaving bloody streaks behind me.

It didn't matter.

He caught me.

He tied me behind his car and dragged me toward an abandoned warehouse in Southside.

Ten kilometers of dirt road.

By the time we arrived, my clothes were torn apart, my skin was shredded, and one arm hung uselessly at my side.

I nearly blacked out from the pain.

But I kept trying to call for help.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Every emergency call was disconnected.

When the car finally stopped, I managed to send one last message.

"Killer in Southside. Save me."

This time, someone answered.

My mother.

She heard my broken screams.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then her voice exploded through the phone.

"Gertrude!"

"Do you have any idea what's happening tonight?"

"Every emergency unit in the city is waiting for information about that killer."

"And you're flooding them with fake calls because you're jealous of Adela?"

My lips trembled.

"Mom, I'm not..."

She didn't let me finish.

"What if someone who was actually in danger couldn't get through because of you?"

"What if someone died?"

Her voice turned ice-cold.

"How would that make you any different from the man we're trying to stop?"

I couldn't speak.

"Don't call again."

"We've already had your number flagged."

Then came the words I would remember until the moment I died.

"Now everyone knows the Morettis' biological daughter abused emergency resources because she was jealous of her adopted sister."

"You've humiliated this entire family."

"How did I give birth to someone this selfish?"

Her breathing turned ragged with anger.

"If only you were the one hiding in fear tonight instead of Adela."

She paused.

"Better yet, maybe you should be the one paying for all those innocent lives."

Before she could say anything else, the killer crushed my phone beneath his boot.

I looked up at him.

His face was scarred beyond recognition.

My entire body began to shake.

He smiled.

Then he stepped on my hand.

Pain exploded through me.

My scream disappeared beneath the storm outside.

He dragged me deeper into the warehouse and suspended me from the rafters.

Then he began telling me everything he hated about the Moretti family.

Every betrayal.

Every ruined life.

Every blood debt he believed my parents owed.

With each accusation, he left another wound on my body.

Then he mentioned Adela.

His biological daughter.

Something changed in his eyes.

For the first time that night, he looked almost pleased.

And then he looked at me.