THE WAITRESS WHO FIRED FIRST — PART 3

The phone rang again.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Chloe stared at the screen.

VICTOR CAPELLO.

Lorenzo looked at her.

“You said you didn’t have your phone.”

“I don’t.”

“Then whose is it?”

“I don’t know.”

The phone stopped ringing.

For one second, the alley became completely silent.

Then a text appeared.

ANSWER. HE CAN SEE YOU.

Chloe’s blood went cold.

She looked up.

Every window surrounding the alley was dark.

But one of them had a tiny red light blinking behind the glᴀss.

A camera.

She grabbed Lorenzo’s arm.

“Don’t move.”

“What?”

“Someone is watching us.”

Lorenzo looked toward the building.

Then another message appeared.

LOOK UP.

Chloe did.

The window went dark.

A second later, the glᴀss exploded.

She shoved Lorenzo down.

A bullet tore through the space where his head had been.

“Run!”

They sprinted through the alley.

Three sH๏τs followed.

Then four.

Then silence.

They didn’t stop until they reached an abandoned train platform beneath the elevated tracks.

Lorenzo leaned against a concrete pillar, breathing hard.

Chloe turned toward him.

“You’re bleeding again.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“I wasn’t trying to comfort you.”

She almost smiled.

Almost.

Then she noticed something.

Blood was dripping from his hand.

Not his shoulder.

His palm.

“Give me your hand.”

“Why?”

“Now.”

He hesitated.

Then opened his fingers.

There was a tiny piece of paper embedded in his palm.

Chloe stared.

“That wasn’t there before.”

Lorenzo looked confused.

“I don’t know how—”

She pulled it free.

Four words.

THE BOOK IS NOT PAPER.

Lorenzo’s expression changed.

“What does that mean?”

Chloe looked at him.

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“No.”

“Then why did you just look afraid?”

He didn’t answer.

The sound of a train thundered above them.

For a few seconds, neither spoke.

Then Lorenzo finally said:

“My father kept something.”

“What?”

“A ledger.”

“The book.”

“Yes.”

“What was in it?”

“Names.”

“Whose names?”

“Politicians. Judges. Police officers. Business owners.”

“And ᴀssᴀssins?”

Lorenzo looked at her.

“Especially ᴀssᴀssins.”

Chloe folded the paper.

“Where is it?”

“My father died before he told me.”

“Your father didn’t die naturally.”

“No.”

“Victor killed him.”

Lorenzo’s eyes hardened.

“You know something.”

Chloe looked away.

“My father worked for your family.”

Silence.

“What was his name?”

“Thomas Evans.”

Lorenzo froze.

“My father knew him.”

Chloe nodded.

“He didn’t just know him.”

She swallowed.

“He ordered my father’s death.”

Lorenzo stepped closer.

“I never knew.”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

“Chloe…”

“My father wasn’t a waiter. He wasn’t a driver. He wasn’t some random employee.”

She looked directly at him.

“He was your father’s accountant.”

Lorenzo stared.

“My father trusted him with the ledger.”

“And then?”

“He disappeared.”

“When?”

“Three years before I started working at the Sovereign.”

Lorenzo’s voice dropped.

“That’s when your sister disappeared too.”

Chloe’s face changed.

“How do you know about my sister?”

“I saw her file.”

“Where?”

“In my father’s private office.”

“When?”

“Last year.”

Chloe took a step backward.

“You knew she was alive.”

“I knew someone believed she was alive.”

“You never told me.”

“I didn’t know it was you.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“No.”

He looked at her.

“It makes it worse.”

A woman’s voice suddenly echoed from the darkness.

“Finally.”

Chloe turned.

A woman stepped into the weak light beneath the tracks.

Black coat.

Wet hair.

A scar running along her left cheek.

Chloe stopped breathing.

Lorenzo whispered:

“Isabella?”

The woman smiled.

“No.”

She looked directly at Chloe.

“It’s Elena.”

Chloe’s knees almost gave out.

“No.”

The woman touched the scar on her face.

“That’s what they told you.”

Chloe couldn’t move.

“You’re ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.”

“I was supposed to be.”

“Who are you?”

The woman’s smile disappeared.

“Your sister.”

The world seemed to tilt.

Chloe stared at her.

Same eyes.

Same mouth.

Same tiny mark beneath the left eyebrow.

The mark their mother used to kiss before bed.

“Lena…”

Elena stepped closer.

“I wondered how long it would take you to recognize me.”

Chloe’s eyes filled.

“You watched me?”

“For years.”

“You knew where I worked?”

“Yes.”

“You knew about tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Did you send the ᴀssᴀssins?”

Elena shook her head.

“No.”

“Then why did they say you wanted the book?”

“Because Victor told them to say it.”

Lorenzo’s face hardened.

“Victor is working with you?”

Elena looked at him.

“No.”

“Then who?”

She smiled sadly.

“Victor thinks he’s working for himself.”

A distant siren sounded.

Elena stepped closer.

“He doesn’t know who owns the ledger.”

Chloe frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Elena looked at Lorenzo.

Then back at Chloe.

“The ledger doesn’t belong to the Capellos.”

Lorenzo’s expression changed.

“Then who?”

Elena whispered:

“Your mother.”

Chloe stopped breathing.

“My mother died.”

“No.”

“She died when I was seventeen.”

“That was the woman they wanted you to believe was your mother.”

Chloe stared at her.

“What are you saying?”

Elena reached into her coat.

She pulled out an old pH๏τograph.

Chloe recognized herself immediately.

She was six years old.

Standing beside her mother.

And beside another woman.

A woman Chloe had never seen.

Elena pointed to her.

“That is our real mother.”

Chloe’s fingers trembled.

“Then who raised us?”

“A woman hired to protect us.”

“By whom?”

Elena looked toward Lorenzo.

“His father.”

Lorenzo’s face went pale.

“My father protected you?”

“No.”

Elena’s eyes hardened.

“He hid you.”

“Why?”

“Because your mother discovered what the ledger really contained.”

“What?”

Elena took a breath.

“The Capello family wasn’t buying politicians.”

Lorenzo stepped closer.

“Then what were they buying?”

“Idenтιтies.”

Silence.

Elena continued.

“For twenty years, powerful people paid your family to disappear.”

“Disappear?”

“New names. New pᴀssports. New histories.”

Chloe shook her head.

“That doesn’t explain the ᴀssᴀssins.”

“It does.”

Elena looked at Lorenzo.

“Your family didn’t just protect criminals.”

She paused.

“They created them.”

Lorenzo’s jaw тιԍнтened.

“That’s impossible.”

“No.”

Elena looked at Chloe.

“And your father found the original list.”

“The ledger.”

“Yes.”

Chloe whispered:

“And Victor wants it.”

“He doesn’t want it.”

“Then what does he want?”

Elena’s expression turned cold.

“He wants the person who can read it.”

Chloe stared.

“The ledger is encrypted.”

“No.”

Elena shook her head.

“It’s written in a language only two people understand.”

“Who?”

“You.”

Chloe laughed nervously.

“I don’t speak another language.”

“You did when you were a child.”

Elena stepped closer.

“Your father taught you.”

A memory flashed.

Chloe at seven years old.

Her father sitting beside her at the kitchen table.

Numbers.

Strange symbols.

A bedtime game.

She had forgotten.

Or thought she had.

Her father had always said the same thing.

Never forget the pattern.

Chloe’s face went pale.

“Oh my God.”

Lorenzo looked at her.

“What?”

“I remember.”

Elena nodded.

“You were never learning numbers.”

“You were teaching me how to read the ledger.”

“Yes.”

A gunsH๏τ cracked.

Elena jerked.

Blood spread across her coat.

“ELENA!”

Chloe caught her before she hit the ground.

Lorenzo drew his weapon.

A figure stood at the end of the platform.

Victor.

He slowly lowered his gun.

His face was calm.

Almost sad.

“I’m sorry, Chloe.”

She stared at him.

“You killed my sister.”

Victor shook his head.

“No.”

He looked at Elena.

“She was never your sister.”

Chloe froze.

Victor’s eyes moved to Lorenzo.

“And she isn’t even my enemy.”

Lorenzo raised his gun.

“Then whose side are you on?”

Victor smiled.

“The same side I’ve always been on.”

He reached into his coat.

Pulled out a pH๏τograph.

And threw it onto the ground.

Chloe picked it up.

Her entire body went cold.

It showed her father.

Alive.

Standing beside Victor.

And between them—

a teenage Chloe.

But the date on the pH๏τograph was impossible.

It had been taken two years after her father’s supposed death.

Chloe looked up.

Victor’s expression had changed.

“You want the truth?”

He pointed at Elena.

“Ask her why your father kept her alive.”

Then he looked at Chloe.

“Ask her why he let you believe she was your sister.”

Elena opened her eyes.

Blood touched her lips.

She whispered:

“Don’t listen to him.”

Victor smiled.

“Tell her, Elena.”

She shook her head.

Victor’s smile disappeared.

“Tell her who her real sister is.”

Chloe stared at Elena.

“What does he mean?”

Elena began to cry.

“Chloe…”

“Who is my sister?”

Elena closed her eyes.

Then whispered:

“You.”

Chloe’s breath stopped.

Elena looked at her.

“You’re not my sister.”

She touched Chloe’s cheek.

“You’re my daughter.”

The world went silent.

And behind them, Lorenzo’s phone began to ring.

The screen showed a name neither of them expected.

THOMAS EVANS.

Chloe’s ᴅᴇᴀᴅ father.