Chapter 2: The Signature On The Paper
I stared at the signature until the ink blurred.
Not because I didn't recognize it.
Because I did.
Celeste Vandermark.
The woman whose hand I had held while promising forever.
The woman who had sat beside my mother at family dinners.
The woman who had kissed me goodnight hours before I found her standing over an injured nurse.
Her name sat beneath the sentence like a confession.
*Ewan survived the fire.*
I read it again.
Then again.
My fingers tightened around the paper.
Impossible.
That was the only thought my mind could produce.
Impossible.
Six years ago, Pier 44 burned until nothing remained except twisted steel and ash.
I had identified my brother through dental records.
I had watched my father bury a closed coffin because there was nothing left to bury.
I had stood in the rain while hundreds of people whispered that the Moretti family had lost its future.
Ewan was gone.
He was gone.
But the paper in my hand was old.
The handwriting was my mother's.
And the signature at the bottom belonged to the woman I was supposed to marry.
I walked downstairs without realizing I was moving.
My body knew where to go before my mind did.
The library.
The room where my father kept every record connected to our family.
Every business document.
Every photograph.
Every piece of history that could destroy us if it landed in the wrong hands.
Marco was standing outside the door.
He looked at my face and immediately straightened.
"Something happened.""
I held up the paper.
His expression changed.
"What is that?""
"Find out.""
He took one step closer.
Then stopped.
Because he saw the signature.
"Vandermark?""
I nodded.
Marco had known Ewan.
Not as a colleague.
As a brother.
He was the only person besides me who still visited my mother's garden on Ewan's birthday.
His voice lowered.
"Lucian...""
"I want every file we have on the Pier 44 fire.""
"We already checked those.""
"I know.""
I looked at him.
"Check again.""
Marco studied me for a moment.
"You think Celeste knows something?""
I folded the paper.
"I think my fiancée has been sitting in my house for two years knowing something about my dead brother.""
The silence between us was heavy.
Then Marco asked the question I didn't want to hear.
"What if Ewan really survived?""
I looked toward the window.
Outside, the city was waking up.
Cars moving.
People walking.
Everyone living normal lives.
While my entire world was breaking apart.
"Then someone lied to me for six years.""
Celeste was waiting for me in the dining room.
Of course she was.
She had changed clothes.
A cream-colored sweater.
Her hair tied back.
No evidence that anything had happened the night before.
That was one of the things that always fascinated me about her.
Celeste could walk through chaos and still look untouched.
She stood beside the coffee table holding a cup.
"I was wondering when you would come.""
I stopped near the doorway.
"You knew I would.""
She looked at me carefully.
"You're angry.""
"Should I not be?""
Her eyes moved over my face.
"You found something.""
I said nothing.
That was when I knew.
A guilty person feared accusations.
An innocent person demanded answers.
Celeste simply waited.
Like she already knew the conversation was coming.
I placed the folded paper on the table.
Her face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"You recognize it.""
She looked down.
For several seconds, she did not touch it.
Then she said quietly:
"Where did you get that?""
"That is not an answer.""
"Lucian.""
"No.""
My voice was colder than I intended.
But I couldn't stop.
"You don't get to say my name like everything is normal.""
Her jaw tightened.
"I have spent two years protecting your family.""
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because I couldn't believe she said it.
"Protecting us?""
She looked directly at me.
"Yes.""
"By attacking my mother's nurse?""
Her expression hardened.
"You have no idea who Anna really is.""
"Then tell me.""
Silence.
Again.
That silence.
The one that kept appearing whenever I asked the right question.
I stepped closer.
"Who is she?""
Celeste looked away.
"Someone dangerous.""
"Everyone becomes dangerous when they threaten your secrets.""
Her eyes snapped back to mine.
"You think I am the villain here.""
"I think you know more than you are telling me.""
She looked hurt.
And for one second, the old part of me wanted to believe her.
The part of me that remembered her laughing in my kitchen.
The part of me that remembered her falling asleep against my shoulder during movie nights.
The part of me that had planned a future with her.
But then I remembered the conservatory.
Anna on the floor.
The scarf in Celeste's hand.
And the sentence written on that paper.
Ewan survived.
"Tell me what happened at Pier 44.""
Celeste went completely still.
"I can't.""
I stared at her.
"You can't?""
"Not yet.""
"Not yet?""
Her voice became softer.
"Lucian, if I tell you everything, you won't just lose me.""
She paused.
"You will lose your entire family.""
I felt something cold settle inside me.
Because threats were easy.
Lies were easy.
But fear?
Real fear?
That was harder to fake.
"Is that supposed to scare me?""
"No.""
She looked at me.
"It's supposed to warn you.""
Two hours later, I was standing in the basement archive.
The room smelled like old paper and dust.
Marco had already opened the Pier 44 files.
There were photographs spread across the table.
Police reports.
Insurance documents.
Newspaper articles.
Everything that had been investigated six years ago.
Everything that had supposedly proven Ewan died.
Marco placed a folder in front of me.
"Look at this.""
Inside was the original fire report.
I scanned the pages.
Then stopped.
"What's wrong?""
Marco pointed.
"Read the witness list.""
I did.
Names.
Employees.
Firefighters.
Dock workers.
Then one name caught my attention.
A witness.
Someone who had seen the fire before emergency crews arrived.
Someone who had disappeared afterward.
I looked up.
"Who is Thomas Vale?""
Marco shook his head.
"That's the problem.""
"What?""
"He doesn't exist anymore.""
I frowned.
"Meaning?""
"Meaning every record connected to him was erased.""
I looked back at the paper.
"Someone removed him.""
"Yes.""
"Who had access?""
Marco didn't answer immediately.
He didn't need to.
I already knew.
The kind of people who could erase records were not strangers.
They were people with power.
People close enough to touch the truth.
I flipped through more documents.
Then I found another piece of paper.
A transfer record.
Six years ago.
Three days after the fire.
A hospital payment.
Private account.
No name attached.
Only a code.
*E.M.*
My heart stopped.
Ewan Moretti.
Marco saw my expression.
"What?""
I pushed the paper toward him.
His face changed.
"No.""
"That's what I said.""
He stared at it.
"Lucian, this could mean anything.""
"Then why are you shaking?""
He looked down at his hands.
Neither of us spoke.
Because we both knew.
The dead did not need hospital payments.
That evening, I went to see Anna.
She was awake.
A doctor sat beside her, checking her blood pressure.
When she saw me, she immediately asked him to leave.
The doctor looked uncertain.
I nodded.
"It's okay.""
When the door closed, Anna looked at me.
Her face was pale.
But her eyes were steady.
"You know.""
It wasn't a question.
I sat beside her.
"I know your name might not be Anna.""
She looked down.
"My name is not important.""
"Then what is?""
Her fingers tightened around the blanket.
"Your brother.""
I felt my chest tighten.
"Tell me about Ewan.""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I can't.""
I almost stood.
"Everyone keeps saying that.""
She looked at me.
"Because everyone who knows the truth is afraid.""
"Afraid of who?""
She looked toward the closed door.
Then whispered:
"Your father.""
I froze.
My father had been dead for four years.
The man who built our family.
The man who taught me loyalty.
The man whose portrait hung in every room of this house.
"You are saying my father knew?""
Anna nodded slowly.
"He knew Ewan was alive.""
The room felt smaller.
"Why would he hide that from me?""
She looked at me with sadness.
"Because your brother didn't disappear because of the fire.""
A cold chill moved through me.
"Then why?""
Anna opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, the door suddenly opened.
Marco stood there.
His face was pale.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
"Lucian.""
I stood.
"What happened?""
He looked at Anna.
Then back at me.
"We found something.""
"What?""
Marco swallowed.
"The security footage from last night.""
I waited.
"Someone else was in the conservatory before Celeste arrived.""
My blood ran cold.
"Who?""
Marco looked down at the tablet in his hand.
Then he turned the screen toward me.
A frozen image appeared.
A man standing in the shadows of my mother's conservatory.
A man whose face was only partially visible.
But I knew that face.
Because I had seen it every day of my childhood.
Marco's voice was barely a whisper.
"Lucian...""
The screen showed the impossible.
The man who had supposedly died six years ago.
May you like
My brother.
Ewan Moretti.
