Chapter 3 - THE SCAR ON THE CHIN
The crystal chandeliers above the dining table suddenly seemed too bright, casting harsh, suffocating light over the room.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I looked down at the silver locket resting against my apron.
“This is mine,” I said, my voice trembling. “It belonged to my father.”
Elias Vance took another step forward, entirely ignoring Luca standing between us. The polished, calculating crime boss who had just dismantled a shipping empire was gone. In his place was a desperate, horrified man.
“Your father?” Elias asked, his breath ragged. “Who is your father?”
“His name is David Collins,” I said firmly, clutching the locket. “He’s a mechanic. He’s owned a garage on the South Side for thirty years.”
Elias shook his head slowly.
“No. My son’s name was Julian. He was five years old when he was taken from our garden. He was wearing that exact locket.”
Luca didn't lower his defensive stance, but his dark eyes shifted to me.
“Hannah,” Luca said softly. “Open it.”
I swallowed hard. My fingers shook as I found the small clasp on the side of the silver heart. It clicked open.
Inside was a faded, color photograph of a little boy. He had dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a very distinct, pale scar cutting across his chin.
Elias let out a shattered, agonizing sound. He covered his mouth with his hand, tears instantly flooding his eyes.
“Julian,” Elias wept, staring at the tiny photograph.
I stared at the picture I had looked at a thousand times since I was a little girl.
“That’s not Julian,” I said, confusion and fear rising in my chest. “That’s my older brother, Thomas. He died when I was a baby.”
The room went entirely silent.
Elias lowered his hand. He looked at me, his eyes bloodshot and terrifyingly intense.
“Your brother?” Elias repeated. “Did your brother have a scar on his chin?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “He fell off a bicycle when he was four.”
“He didn't fall off a bicycle!” Elias roared, the sudden violence in his voice making me flinch. “He was cut by a broken glass when he was three! In my house!”
Luca raised his hand, a clear warning.
“Control yourself, Vance, or Daniel will remove you.”
Elias took a ragged breath, trying to steady himself. He pointed a trembling finger at the locket.
“My son, Julian, was kidnapped twenty years ago,” Elias said, his voice breaking. “We never received a ransom note. We never found a body. We just found his jacket near the back gate.”
He looked at me with a desperate, crushing hope.
“If your brother Thomas was my Julian... where is he?”
I felt the blood drain entirely from my face.
“He’s dead,” I whispered. “He drowned in Lake Michigan when he was seven. They found his body three days later.”
Elias Vance froze.
The color leached from his face, leaving him looking like a corpse. The brief, frantic hope that had ignited in his eyes died instantly, replaced by a profound, hollow agony.
He stumbled backward, hitting the edge of the dining table. The silverware rattled.
He had found his missing son, only to learn he had been dead for two decades.
Luca didn't look at Elias with pity, but the anger in his face had vanished, replaced by cold calculation.
“Hannah,” Luca said quietly. “How old were you when your brother drowned?”
“I was two,” I answered, tears springing to my eyes. “I barely remember him. My parents hardly ever spoke about it. It broke them.”
Luca turned back to Elias.
“You said your son was kidnapped twenty years ago.”
“Yes,” Elias breathed, staring at the floor.
“And Hannah’s brother drowned eighteen years ago.” Luca’s mind was moving rapidly, piecing the timeline together. “That means whoever took Julian raised him for two years under the name Thomas Collins.”
I shook my head, panicked.
“No. My parents wouldn't do that. They aren't kidnappers. They’re good people!”
“Are you sure, Hannah?” Luca asked gently.
“Yes! My mother was a nurse. My father fixed cars. They wouldn't steal a child!”
“Perhaps they didn't steal him,” Elias said, his voice turning into a lethal, venomous hiss. He looked up, his eyes burning with absolute hatred. “Perhaps they bought him.”
I stepped back. “Bought him?”
“From the man who took him,” Elias said, standing up straight. The grief was still there, but it was being weaponized into pure rage. “The man who hated my family enough to steal my heir.”
Elias looked directly at Luca.
“Your father.”
Luca went completely still.
“Antonio Moretti,” Elias spat, the name tasting like poison. “He hated me. We were at war over the South Side territories. Two weeks before Julian disappeared, your father swore to me that he would end my bloodline.”
“My father was a ruthless businessman, Elias,” Luca said, his voice like ice. “He wasn't a child snatcher.”
“He had the motive!” Elias shouted. “And he had the resources!”
Elias turned to me.
“Your father, David Collins. Where is his garage?”
“On 5th and Elm,” I said automatically, terrified of the man.
Elias laughed, a harsh, ugly sound.
“5th and Elm,” Elias repeated. He looked at Luca. “Do you know who owned the property on 5th and Elm twenty years ago, Moretti?”
Luca didn't answer.
“Your father did,” Elias said. “Antonio owned the entire block. Which means your father, David Collins, was one of Antonio Moretti’s tenants.”
My heart hammered against my ribs.
“And I bet,” Elias sneered, taking a step toward me, “if I look into your father’s finances, I’ll find that he never paid a dime of rent to the Morettis. Because Antonio gave him a free garage in exchange for hiding my son!”
“That’s a lie!” I cried, tears spilling down my face.
“Is it?” Elias asked. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I’m going to find out. Right now.”
Before anyone could move, the heavy dining room doors swung open again.
It was Daniel, Luca’s head of security. He looked tense.
“Boss,” Daniel said, glancing at Elias, then back to Luca. “There’s someone at the front gate.”
“Not now, Daniel,” Luca said, his eyes locked on Elias.
“Sir, you need to see this,” Daniel insisted. “It’s Vanessa.”
Luca frowned. “I told you to throw her out.”
“I did,” Daniel said. “But she came back. And she’s not alone.”
Daniel stepped aside.
Standing in the doorway, drenched from a sudden downpour outside, was Vanessa Bellini.
Her mascara was running down her face in dark streaks. She was shaking violently, clutching a large, heavy leather ledger against her chest.
And standing right beside her, holding her arm with a firm, protective grip, was a man I hadn't seen in three days.
My father.
David Collins.
Vanessa looked at Luca, her eyes wide with sheer terror.
“Luca, please,” Vanessa begged, her voice cracking. “I didn't want to sell the brooch. I didn't want to frame the maid.”
She pointed a trembling finger at Elias Vance.
“He forced me to do it! He told me if I didn't frame Hannah tonight, he would kill my father!”
Elias Vance froze.
I stared at my father, who was looking at Elias with a mixture of absolute fear and profound regret.
“Dad?” I whispered.
My father looked at me, tears filling his weathered eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Hannah,” my father said, his voice breaking. “Elias is right. We didn't adopt Thomas.”
He looked at Elias.
“We bought him. But we didn't buy him from Antonio Moretti.”
May you like
My father raised his hand and pointed directly at Elias Vance.
“We bought him from you.”
