CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
Alexander.

"That was totally uncalled for," I said as Elena's footsteps faded away down the hall. I gripped my fists at my sides as anger shook through me. "She came here just to be nice, and you treated her like she was in some kind of police lineup."

My father placed his glass down intentionally and it rang softly on the marble table. "She's exactly what I expected."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Stubborn. Impulsive. Definitely not the type of person for you. Talked to her enough number of times to conclude this." He sat back in his chair, oozing a scornful indifference I'd always detested. "Just like your mother."

"Don't," I muttered, the word coming out harsher than I had intended. "Don't compare Elena to Mom. They aren't similar."

"Aren't they?" His brow arched in a supremely condescending fashion he'd mastered over a lifetime of tormenting others. "Two women. Both as stubborn as to be nearly reckless. Both completely certain that they can handle situations far too large for them to manage."

"Elena isn't mother," I mumbled, taking a step back toward the window, needing some distance between us before saying anything that would destroy our already weak relationship. "And even if she were like my mother, that wouldn't be a flaw."

"Shouldn't it? Just look at what happened to your mother and your beloved cousin."

I was face to face with him, a wave of wrath running through my body. "You killed Mom. And about Margaret? I do not know."

"You are rather naive, Alexander. Margaret made choices, inevitably leading her to this situation. She was motivated by her single-minded pursuit of dangerous associations..."

"Is her independent thinking what you are talking about? Heaven forbid a female member of this family ever possess her own views."

"This isn't a question of opinions. It's survival," my father's voice cracked slightly to show the first fissure in his guarded facade.

"This is a question of respect—something you clearly know nothing about."

"Respect?" he stood up suddenly, the last shreds of his self-control breaking. "You want to talk to me about respect? Your girlfriend walked out on me. On my property, she showed complete disrespect."

"Because you deserved it! You came here tonight with an ulterior motive. Meeting Elena was never your real intention; you wanted to tear her down, to prove some misguided theory about my judgment."

"Again, your judgment is impaired."

"Really?"

"You were so engrossed in work prior to Margaret disappearing that you could not step aside and see the danger she was walking into."

The accusation landed with the impact of a physical blow. I looked at my father, seeing something cold and calculating creased on his face.

"That's not what happened."

"Isn't that so? You fostered her reckless behavior, aiding her pursuit to uncover things that should have been left alone."

"She represented family; it was as if Mom lived through her."

"You've ruined her," my father hissed, his tone dropping to a deadly whisper. "You will do the same to this one unless you wake up and observe what is actually occurring."

"And what is really happening, Father? Tell me."

"You continually make the same errors, falling in love with a woman who is destined to meet her death because you're too weak to control the situation."

Control. It kept coming back to control with him. I leaned a little closer, giving him a glimpse of the anger flaring in my eyes.

"I don't want to control Elena. I want to protect her, support her, love her. Novel concepts, I know, but try to keep up."

"Love." He spoke the word, the word tasting bitter on his lips. "Love kills. Margaret was as good as dead too. And your precious Elena will take the same deadly path if you fail to—"

"Lock her away? Stop her from living her life? Be the sort of man who thinks women are property? Be like you?”

My father's face darkened in rage. "Do you think you are better than me? Better than this family?"

"In this? Yes. Absolutely."

"You ingr---" he caught himself, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. "You have no idea of what I've given to keep this family protected. What I've done to keep you all safe."

"Protection from what, precisely?"

"From the truth. From relationships that can destroy all that we've worked for." His fingers shook, whether with rage or something else altogether, I couldn't say. "And yet you are so insistent on going back to the past, on remaking the same ill-advised decisions…"

"What truth?" I stepped closer, sensing something important beneath his anger.

"Do you want the truth, Alexander?"

"Indeed."

"Margaret wasn't really a Moretti." The words cut through the air, icy and deadly. "She had been adopted by this family, after her biological family left her to fend for herself."

I felt the ground shaking beneath my feet. "What?"

"She wasn't family, Alexander. She was the stepdaughter Vincent Carter's father had left behind, your enemy's sister, raised in our home and privy to our most intimate secrets." My father's voice rang with the authority of absolute truth. "And when she disappeared, she took those secrets with her."

"That's impossible."

"Maria Carter left her child at a church when the little one could hardly walk immediately after separation from Vincent Carter’s father, leaving a note admitting she was no longer capable of maintaining her role as a mother." My father's face was as cold as granite. "Your grandfather found her through his contacts and decided to take her in—a decision which almost tore our very foundations apart."

"You are lying."

"I have never lied to you about anything. Margaret was of the lineage of Vincent Carter. She was raised a Moretti and loved as our own, but she was never actually one of our kind."

My legs trembled and I fell into the closest available seat, my brain reeling. "Why wasn't I told?"

"Marco doesn't know either. She was family, just not by blood. But as she explored her past and set out to learn about her birth parents—"

"She found out," I whispered.

"She discovered the truth, and soon after disappeared. You can understand my interest in Miss Rossi now. You can grasp the importance to me of finding out what she really desires in you."

"She asks for nothing but my love."

"You hope," he said.

Stepping closer to the door then hesitating. "If you’re wrong, though, if she's connected to this in ways you can't see, then you're both in more danger than you realize."

A stunned silence surrounded me as my father left. Margaret, who had almost been my mother—someone I had thought of as part of our family—turned out to be the sister of Vincent Carter, my arch-nemesis.
"Alexander?" Elena's voice trembled with concern as she walked into the lounge. "What’s wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."