Chapter 7 – Daughter of Blood
The silence after Vincent’s confession felt unbearable.
Lily stared at him as though the floor had disappeared beneath her.
No.
No, she must have heard wrong.
Her lips trembled.
“What did you say?”
Vincent did not move.
Moonlight cut across his face, carving sharp lines into stone-like features, but tonight she saw something she had never seen in him before.
Regret.
Real regret.
Lily’s voice cracked.
“No.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“No… say it again.”
Vincent inhaled slowly.
As if every breath dragged through old wounds.
“She died because of me.”
The words landed like bullets.
Lily stepped back.
Her injured shoulder screamed.
She barely felt it.
All she felt was betrayal.
“You knew.”
Green eyes burned with disbelief.
“You knew my mother.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
Silence.
That silence hurt more than any answer.
Lily laughed once.
Broken.
Disbelieving.
“Oh my God.”
She shook her head.
“All this time.”
Another step back.
“All this time you watched me.”
Her voice rose.
“You protected me.”
A beat.
“You touched me.”
Another beat.
“And you knew?”
Marco remained frozen near the door.
Even he understood this moment was dangerous.
Not because of violence.
Because of truth.
Vincent finally spoke.
“I didn’t know who you were.”
Lily stopped.
Her breathing came sharp.
“What?”
Vincent’s gray eyes locked on hers.
“I knew your mother.”
A pause.
“I did not know you were her daughter.”
Lily stared.
Confusion collided with fury.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does.”
Vincent moved toward the desk.
Opened a locked drawer.
Pulled out an old photograph.
Worn at the edges.
A younger Vincent.
Maybe nineteen.
Beside him stood a woman with bright green eyes.
Lily’s breath vanished.
Her mother.
Younger.
Alive.
Smiling.
The photograph slipped from her fingers.
“No…”
Vincent spoke quietly.
“Her name was Evelyn Sinclair.”
Evelyn Sinclair
Lily sank into the nearest chair.
Her legs failed her.
Vincent continued.
“She wasn’t just someone running from Salvatore.”
A pause.
“She worked for my father.”
Marco’s expression changed.
Even he didn’t know this.
Vincent looked at the photograph.
Old ghosts returned.
“She was an analyst.”
“Brilliant.”
“Quiet.”
“She handled financial records, offshore movements, encrypted ledgers.”
Lily’s heart pounded.
This was impossible.
Her mother?
In mafia business?
Vincent continued.
“She discovered something she was never supposed to find.”
Lily whispered:
“What?”
Vincent’s expression darkened.
“A ledger.”
One word.
Heavy.
Deadly.
Marco froze.
Ledger.
Not money.
Not random accounts.
Evidence.
Power.
Vincent continued.
“It contained names.”
“Judges.”
“Politicians.”
“Federal agents.”
“Bank executives.”
His voice lowered.
“Every powerful person Salvatore had bought.”
Lily’s blood ran cold.
Not just criminal records.
A weapon.
A weapon powerful enough to destroy empires.
Vincent continued.
“Salvatore learned she accessed it.”
“He wanted it back.”
Lily’s breathing turned shallow.
“My mother stole it?”
Vincent shook his head.
“No.”
A pause.
“She copied it.”
That was worse.
Far worse.
Copies could spread.
Copies could expose everyone.
Copies meant leverage.
Life or death leverage.
Lily whispered:
“Why?”
Vincent’s voice roughened.
“Because she was trying to save someone.”
Lily looked up.
“Who?”
Vincent met her gaze.
“Me.”
Silence.
Everything stopped.
No sound.
No air.
Nothing.
Lily shook her head.
“No.”
Vincent looked away briefly.
As if memory hurt.
“My father planned to make peace with Salvatore.”
Marco went rigid.
That had never been public knowledge.
Vincent continued.
“Peace meant alliance.”
A pause.
“It also meant marriage.”
Lily frowned.
Marriage?
Vincent’s voice became cold.
“Salvatore wanted leverage over my father.”
“He demanded something personal.”
Lily whispered:
“What?”
Vincent answered.
“Me.”
Confusion.
Lily stared.
Vincent clarified.
“He wanted me under his control.”
A pause.
“He planned to use me as a puppet heir.”
Now she understood.
The ledger could prevent that.
Evidence.
Blackmail.
Protection.
Vincent continued.
“Your mother found the ledger and copied everything.”
“She came to me.”
Flashback lived in his eyes now.
Young Vincent.
Angry.
Arrogant.
Restless.
Evelyn standing before him.
Desperate.
Urgent.
Run, Vincent.
Take this and disappear.
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“She begged me to leave New York.”
Lily whispered:
“Did you?”
His silence answered.
No.
Of course not.
Vincent Moretti had never run.
Even at nineteen.
Especially at nineteen.
“I refused.”
Regret cut through his voice.
“I thought I could fight him.”
A bitter laugh escaped.
“I was young.”
A pause.
“Proud.”
Another pause.
“Stupid.”
Lily’s eyes burned.
“What happened?”
Vincent finally looked at her.
“Salvatore found out.”
His voice lowered.
“He came for the ledger.”
Lily’s hands shook.
“My mother didn’t tell him.”
“No.”
A beat.
“She protected me.”
Tears gathered in Lily’s eyes.
Vincent’s next words came like knives.
“She died buying me time.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Lily felt her world fracture.
The woman she remembered as mother.
The woman she thought died in random violence.
Had died—
Protecting Vincent.
No.
There had to be more.
Her mind caught something.
A missing piece.
She lifted her head.
“The ledger.”
Vincent stilled.
“What about it?”
Lily’s voice trembled.
“Did Salvatore get it?”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“No.”
Lily stopped breathing.
No.
Then—
Where?
Marco realized first.
His face changed.
Oh no.
No.
Vincent slowly turned toward Lily.
The same realization hit.
Simultaneously.
Her mother.
The necklace.
The steel locket.
Gone the night she died.
Lily whispered.
“Oh God.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“The necklace.”
Lily grabbed her head.
Fragments exploded through memory.
Her mother kneeling.
Crying.
Hands shaking.
Pressing cold metal into Lily’s tiny palms.
Listen to me, sweetheart.
Never open this unless they find you.
Never trust anyone asking for it.
Promise me.
Lily gasped.
Air vanished.
She remembered.
She remembered everything.
Tears streamed down her face.
Vincent’s voice sharpened.
“Lily.”
She shook violently.
“Lily.”
She looked at him.
Horror.
Pure horror.
“My mother gave it to me.”
Marco cursed under his breath.
Vincent froze.
“What?”
Lily’s voice broke.
“She gave it to me.”
A sob escaped.
“She hid it.”
“Inside…”
She touched her chest.
Instinct.
Memory.
Necklace placement.
No.
Not there anymore.
Gone.
Vincent gripped her shoulders.
“Where is it?”
Her breathing shattered.
“I don’t know!”
“Think.”
“I DON’T KNOW!”
She cried openly now.
“I was ten!”
Pain.
Memory.
Trauma.
Everything flooding back.
Then—
A flash.
Not memory.
Recognition.
Lily stopped.
Completely.
Her pupils widened.
Vincent noticed instantly.
“What?”
Her lips trembled.
“No…”
“What is it?”
She whispered.
“My father.”
Vincent tightened his grip.
“What about him?”
Lily’s face drained of all color.
“The night he died…”
A pause.
“He gave me something.”
Silence.
Her voice became barely audible.
“A wooden box.”
Marco went still.
Lily shook.
“I never opened it.”
Vincent’s heart pounded.
“Where is it?”
She looked at him.
Terrified.
“At home.”
A beat.
“In West Virginia.”
The room froze.
Then—
A gun clicked.
Metal.
Sharp.
Cold.
Everyone turned.
Marco’s face changed.
Impossible.
No.
One of Vincent’s guards stood in the doorway.
Gun raised.
Pointed directly at Lily.
His expression empty.
Cold.
Wrong.
Traitor.
Vincent moved instantly.
Too late.
The guard smiled.
Not at Vincent.
At Lily.
May you like
Then spoke six words that turned the room to ice.
“Salvatore sends his regards.”
