Chapter 48 Blood calls Blood
Flora
I watched Rafael's face as he spoke to Vittorio Morelli.
His jaw was clenched. His knuckles were white around the phone.
"Antonio Martinez is already dead," Rafael said. "He confessed to killing Eva. Then he shot himself."
Silence filled the room as we waited for Vittorio's response.
"You expect me to believe that?" Vittorio's voice was loud enough that I could hear it.
"I have a recording of his confession. He admitted to killing Eva because she discovered she was a Morelli. How he was trying to protect Valserro secrets."
Marco was already working on his phone, preparing to send the recording.
"I'm sending it now," Rafael said.
We all held our breath as Vittorio listened.
I could hear Antonio's voice faintly through the phone. When it ended, Vittorio spoke again.
"This changes nothing," he said coldly. "Antonio may have pulled the trigger, but you are still guilty. You married my daughter under false pretenses. You kept her from her true family."
"I didn't know!" Rafael interrupted. His voice cracked with emotion. "I swear on my life, I didn't know Eva was a Morelli. It was love at first sight. I never knew the truth about her bloodline."
"Ignorance is not innocence," Vittorio said.
"Then what do you want from me?" Rafael asked. "Blood for blood? Fine. Kill me. But leave Flora and the others alone. They had nothing to do with any of this."
"Flora," Vittorio repeated. The way he said my name made my skin crawl. "Eva's twin."
"Yes," Rafael said.
"I want to meet her," Vittorio said.
My blood turned to ice.
Rafael looked at me. "Why?" He asked.
"Because she is my blood too," Vittorio said. "My daughter's sister. And I want to see her with my own eyes before I decide whether mercy is warranted."
I found myself nodding before I could think.
Rafael saw me and his face went pale. "When?" he asked.
"Tomorrow," Vittorio said. "By noon. There's a church. St. Anthony's. Do you know it?"
"I know it," Rafael said.
"You and the girl should come alone." Vittorio said.
"How do I know you won't kill us?" Rafael asked.
"You don't," Vittorio said simply. "But it's the only way this ends without all-out war. Your choice, Valserro."
The line went dead.
Rafael stared at his phone. "It's too dangerous," he said.
"Everything is dangerous now," I replied. "But I'd rather take the risk than spend my life hiding."
Rafael looked at me for a long moment.
"Okay," he said finally. "We will meet with Vittorio tomorrow."
"Boss…" Marco started.
"No arguments," Rafael said. "This is my decision."
Marco's jaw clenched but he nodded.
Helena looked between us. "I'll have the backup plan ready. Just in case this goes wrong."
"It will go wrong," Marco muttered.
I hoped he was mistaken.
But deep down, I knew he was probably right.
I couldn't sleep that night.
I lay in a small cot, staring at the ceiling, wondering if tomorrow would be my last day alive.
Vittorio Morelli wanted to meet with me. His daughter's twin. Would he see me as family? Or as an abomination?
Catherine was my biological mother. Vittorio Morelli was my biological father.
The people I had thought were my parents weren't. They were paid to play the role of parents in my life till the right time. And once their time was up, they died.
Was their death even real?
Or was it part of the game?
Around 3 AM, I gave up trying to sleep.
I found Rafael standing by the window, looking out at the dark woods.
"Can't sleep either?" I asked.
He turned. "No. Too much adrenaline."
I stood beside him. "Do you think Vittorio will kill us?"
"Honestly?" Rafael said. "I don't know. The Morellis are unpredictable. Honorable in their own way, but ruthless."
"So fifty-fifty odds," I said.
"At best," Rafael agreed.
We stood in silence for a moment.
"I'm sorry," Rafael said suddenly.
"For what?"
"For everything," he said. "For kidnapping you. For trying to make you into Eva. For dragging you into this nightmare."
"I'm here by choice now." I said.
"Are you?" Rafael asked. "Or are you just making the best of an impossible situation?"
"Maybe both," I admitted. "But Rafael, I need you to understand something. I'm not staying with you out of obligation."
"Then why?" Rafael asked.
"Because somewhere between being your prisoner and becoming your ally, I started to care about you," I said. The words came out in a rush. "The real you. Not the monster you thought you were. Not the broken man mourning Eva. Just... Rafael."
Rafael's hand found mine. "I care about you too. More than I should. More than makes sense."
"Love doesn't make sense," I said.
Rafael's eyes widened. "Love?"
Had I really just said that?
"I..." I hesitated. "I don't know.
Maybe. Is that crazy?"
"Completely insane," Rafael said. But he was smiling. "But then again, everything about this situation is insane."
He pulled me closer. "If we survive tomorrow…"
"When we survive tomorrow," I corrected.
"When we survive tomorrow," Rafael agreed, "I want to do this right. I want to court you properly. Give you the choice to walk away at any time."
"I'd like that," I said.
Rafael lowered himself to my level and kissed me.
When we broke apart, we were both smiling.
"Whatever happens tomorrow," I said, "at least we'll face it together."
"Together," Rafael agreed.
Dawn came too quickly.
We prepared in silence. No weapons, as Vittorio had demanded. Just ourselves.
Marco wanted to come with us, but Rafael refused.
"If this goes bad," Rafael told him, "you need to be alive to make sure Helena finishes the job."
"Don't talk like that, boss," Marco said.
"It's reality," Rafael said. "But I trust you, Marco."
They hugged. A quick, fierce embrace.
Then it was time to go.
Helena drove us to the church. St. Anthony's.
"I'll wait two blocks away," she said. "If you're not out in an hour, I'm calling the authorities."
"The authorities can't help with this," Rafael said.
"Maybe not," Helena agreed. "But at least your deaths will be investigated."
"Cheerful," I muttered.
We got out of the car and approached the church.
It was exactly noon.
The church doors were open. We stepped inside, carefully.
The interior was dim. Candles flickered. There were rows of empty pews.
And at the altar, an old man was kneeling in prayer.
Should be Vittorio Morelli.
He stood as we approached and turned to face us.
He was tall. Still powerful-looking in his seventies.
And his eyes were green like Eva's.
He looked at Rafael first and studied him for a long moment.
Then his gaze shifted to me. And his expression changed completely.
"Santa Maria," he whispered. "You look exactly like her."