They had locked me in the quarters.
I kept pounding on the door, but it wouldn’t open.
My chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath.
Anger burned through me not only because they had locked me up, but because my teammates had made the decision without even consulting me.
Damn it!
I cursed inside my mind.
I turned away from the door and walked toward the bed before letting myself fall onto the soft mattress.
My hand throbbed, then slowly went numb from pounding against the steel door and concrete wall.
I barely had time to recover when I heard the lock click.
The door burst opened.
I immediately stood.
Our founder stepped inside, his expression was hard.
The look in his eyes made my stomach tighten.
“What have you gotten into your mind, Agent Beltran?” he asked, towering over me.
His voice carried both calculation and disapproval.
“I…” My fists tightened.
“I want to take revenge on them. They killed my mom—”
He scoffed and shoved a brown envelope into my hands.
“Open it.”
I stared at the envelope for a moment before tearing it open.
There was a single sheet of paper inside.
My eyes moved across the words.
Then stopped as my hand flew over my mouth.
I kept reading, hoping I had misunderstood what was written but no cause every words were right.
“Sienna left her assets in your name and wrote that letter,” he said.
“She told me not to give it to you. She expected you to seek revenge.”
His eyes narrowed.
“And she was right.” He added.
A sharp ache settled in my chest as I read the letter again, trying to make sense of it.
“What does she mean by this?” I demanded.
“That I shouldn’t go to Italy because I’ll meet my father?”
I looked at him.
“Do you know about this? Did Mom lie to me about my father’s death? Tell me!”
My voice echoed through the room, but he remained silent.
“I knew you would ask that,” he finally said.
“But Sienna never told me who your father was. She only said that he was alive and that you two were not allowed to meet.”
That answer only left me with more questions.
Heat rushed through me as I gripped my hair and paced across the room, trying to put everything together.
My eyes burned.
Then the tears came rushing down my cheeks.
“So… she knew?” My voice cracked.
“She knew she was going to die that day, didn’t she?”
I shook my head in disbelief and mixed of emotions shot through me.
“Why?”
My voice rose.
“WHY?!”
He sighed before walking toward me and pulling me into a hug.
I stiffened.
Then I pushed away from him, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.
“Was it you who ordered them to bring me back here?”
He didn’t answer.
He only stared at me.
My brows pulled together and that familiar silence was enough to tell.
I turned toward the door.
The other agents immediately moved to stop me, but I shoved past them.
I wasn’t going to stay locked up while everyone around me seemed to know something about my mother that I didn’t even had the knowledge about it.
I stormed toward the director’s quarters, where my mother’s former colleagues were.
I pushed the door open and Aunt Jean looked up.
Mom’s best friend and better half.
“Savannah—”
I slammed the paper onto her desk.
She stared at it calmly, then picked it up and read.
I watched her face carefully.
Nothing.
She remained unfaced, no surprise, no confusion and it was just silence that made me even looked like a total fool.
My anger climbed higher in my nerves as my temple started to feel my rage.
She finally stood.
“Sit, Agent Beltran,” she said calmly.
I glared at her.
“Why was I the only one who didn’t know?”
“Calm down, Agent.”
“Calm down?” I let out a bitter laugh.
“My mother left me a letter telling me to stay away from my own father, and apparently everyone knew except me!”
Aunt Jean’s expression softened.
“Listen to me. Sienna didn’t want you to get involved in this anymore.”
I shook my head.
“Do you really think we would just sit back and do nothing?” she continued.
“Do you even understand what that letter means, Sav?”
I stared at her.
Not knowing what to do and react anymore.
“She wants you to live a normal life.”
“No!!” The answer came out instantly.
I stood and looked at the letter again.
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
“No…”
My head shook from side to side.
Aunt Jean came closer and placed a hand on my back before pulling me into her arms.
“I should avenge her,” I whispered.
“I should get justice for her.”
She gently shook her head and wiped my tears.
“No, dear.”
I looked at her.
“Maybe you don’t understand what a mother’s love can make someone do,” she said softly.
“Your mom loved you so much that she was willing to keep you away from all of this. She wanted you to forget everything and start a new life.”
I lowered my gaze.
Her words settled heavily inside me.
But I couldn’t accept them.
Not yet.
Not until I saw that Mafia sinked down on my own hands.
╰┈➤
I was silent the entire way home.
They had taken my belongings.
My identification as an elite agent and all of my weapons.
Everything that had once made me an agent was now gone.
I wasn’t an agent anymore.
Carter volunteered to take me home.
I rested my head against the car window, watching the familiar streets pass by.
“Captain…”
I didn’t look at him.
“Please take care of yourself,” Carter continued.
“And you can always contact us if you need anything.”
I swallowed hard.
I didn’t know what to say and feel anymore, my body and mind was to overwhelm to even think straight at the situation.
The car eventually stopped in front of the villa.
Carter got out and opened my door.
I stepped out without a word.
The moment the front door opened, silence greeted me.
I took one step inside.
Then followed by another.
Nothing moved, no voices to keep me accompany, no footsteps that greets me whenever I’m home and importantly no one was waiting for me to come home.
The villa was huge, but it felt empty.
Dust floated through the air as I walked farther inside.
Six years ago, this place had been full of life.
Now, every corner felt unfamiliar and painful.
My eyes landed on the huge portrait of my mother.
I walked toward it and slowly raised my hand.
My fingertip brushed against her painted face.
“Mom…”
My voice barely came out.
“Is this what you wanted me to feel?”
My vision blurred.
“I missed you so much…”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
“Why did you leave me?”
There was no answer.
And only silence.
I walked past the portrait.
Then, A faint movement caught my attention.
The large painting had shifted slightly.
I stopped.
Something had fallen onto the cold floor.
A tiny piece of paper, wrapped in plastic.
My brows furrowed as I opened it and carefully unfolded the paper.
There was only one phrase written on it.
“Bruciami Viva.”
I stared at the unfamiliar words.
“What the hell does that mean?”
I grabbed my phone and searched for the translation.
My eyes widened when it was an Italian word and the meaning was drastic.
Burn me alive.
A chill ran down my spine.
I looked around.
Why would Mom hide this?
I searched for another piece of paper, but there was nothing.
I checked behind the painting again.
But still found nothing.
I searched the room and rushed toward my mother’s bedroom and opened her cabinets one after another.
Drawers were empty, and all of her belongings were burned by me six years ago.
I returned to the painting and examined the paper again, scanning every inch of it.
But only those foreign words are present.
What does it mean?
Why had my mother hidden them?
I forced myself to stop searching and walked upstairs toward her study.
The moment I opened the door, dust filled the air.
I coughed and covered my nose with my sleeve before reaching for the light.
The room flickered to life.
Everything looked untouched.
My gaze moved around the study until it landed on my mother’s desk.
I walked toward it.
One drawer caught my attention.
I pulled it open as my breath stopped.
Inside was the book Mom and I used to read together when I was young.
My fingers trembled as I picked it up.
For a moment, I simply stared at the cover.
Then decided to opened it.
The familiar story immediately came rushing back.
Memories of Mom reading beside me.
Her voice, Her laughter and Her presence.
Those days when I still believed nothing could take her away from me.
My chest tightened.
I quickly closed the book as I cant no longer take the courage to continue reading.
It slipped from my hands and hit the floor.
Something fell from between its pages.
A photograph.
I picked it up and the picture was old and faded.
It showed the back of a man.
Then I turned it over.
There was a message written on the back.
My eyes moved across the words.
“Forgive me, but it’s better if you wouldn’t know our daughter and remember me as well.”
My fingers loosened.
The photograph slipped from my hand.
I stared at it on the floor.
Everything came rushing back.
The letter.
The assets Mom had left under my name.
Their warning about staying and getting revenge in Italy.
And now this photograph of a man Mom had never told me about.
Is he my biological father?
I stumbled backward until my knees hit the dusty floor.
My thoughts collided inside my head.
The hidden message, The photograph, Italy and now my unknown father.
I looked at the piece of paper still clutched in my hand.
The words were Italian.
My breathing slowed as I tried to understand everything until my eyes widened.
“The foreign words were Italian…” I stared at the photograph.
“Does that mean…”
My voice trembled.
“My father lived in Italy?”
What’s your bet?