CHAPTER 3 — MY MOTHER'S LAST LETTER
CHAPTER 3 — MY MOTHER'S LAST LETTER
For a long moment, I could not breathe.
The number on the page blurred behind my tears.
€2,843,000,000.
It looked unreal.
Like someone had accidentally added too many zeros.
"There has to be a mistake," I whispered.
Alessandro quietly shook his head.
"There isn't."
My fingers trembled as I turned the page.
The familiar loops of my mother's handwriting stared back at me.
My dearest Elena,
If you are reading this, I am finally where no one can threaten me anymore.
Forgive me.
For every lie.
For every ordinary birthday.
For every apartment with peeling walls.
For every Christmas when I told you we couldn't afford gifts.
None of it was because we were poor.
It was because I loved you more than money.
A tear landed on the paper.
I remembered every sacrifice she'd made.
The secondhand school uniforms.
The patched winter coats.
The nights she claimed she wasn't hungry so I could have the last piece of bread.
She had never complained.
Not once.
I continued reading.
You once asked why I never spoke about your father.
The truth is simple.
He died protecting us.
When the Ricci family was attacked twenty-nine years ago, he stayed behind so I could escape with you.
He knew he would never leave that house alive.
You were only six months old.
You never even learned the sound of his voice.
I covered my mouth.
"No..."
Alessandro lowered his eyes.
"He loved your mother very much."
My chest tightened.
"I thought he abandoned us."
"That was exactly what your mother wanted you to believe."
"Why?"
"So you would never go looking for the people who killed him."
I buried my face in my hands.
Everything I believed about my childhood was collapsing.
Every memory.
Every explanation.
Every truth.
They had all been carefully built lies meant to keep me alive.
I forced myself to continue.
Marco...
I know you will defend him if I ever criticize him.
Because you have my heart.
You always see the good in people.
But mothers see differently.
I hired investigators after your engagement.
Marco Vega does not love you.
He loves opportunity.
If I am wrong, this letter should embarrass me.
If I am right...
You are reading it after he has already betrayed you.
My hands froze.
It was as though my mother were sitting beside me.
Watching.
Knowing.
Knowing everything.
I remembered every argument we'd had.
Mama warning me.
Me accusing her of being controlling.
Marco comforting me afterward, telling me she was jealous of our happiness.
God.
How blind had I been?
The final page contained only one sentence.
If Marco leaves you when he believes you have nothing...
Never take him back after he learns you have everything.
Love without loyalty is only greed.
I cried harder than I had at the funeral.
Not because she was gone.
Because she had loved me enough to prepare for the day my own husband would destroy me.
That evening the board of Ricci International arrived.
Nine people entered the library.
Men and women ranging from their forties to their seventies.
Every one of them stood when I entered.
Not out of politeness.
Out of respect.
The oldest director stepped forward.
"My name is Gabriel Torres."
He extended both hands.
"On behalf of Ricci International..."
He paused.
"...welcome home, Chairwoman."
"I don't know anything about running a company."
"You will learn."
"I've balanced grocery budgets."
"You'll balance corporations."
"I've never managed employees."
"You'll manage twenty-three thousand."
"I don't even understand finance."
Gabriel smiled.
"Neither did your mother when she inherited everything."
The room fell quiet.
He opened a leather portfolio.
"For the past twenty-five years..."
He slid several documents toward me.
"...every major decision required your mother's signature."
I blinked.
"But she was cleaning office buildings."
Gabriel chuckled softly.
"No."
He turned another page.
"She visited the buildings she owned."
I stared at him.
"She insisted on doing it personally."
"Why?"
"Because she said the only way to know if executives were lying was to ask janitors what really happened."
Several board members laughed.
One woman wiped away tears.
"She never forgot ordinary people."
Suddenly...
I understood.
My mother had never been pretending.
She had simply chosen humility over luxury.
At the same moment...
Across Madrid...
Marco raised a champagne glass.
Sofia curled against him on the sofa inside the apartment that had once been ours.
"I can't believe how easy that was," she laughed.
Marco grinned.
"Elena never questioned anything."
"You almost looked guilty."
"For five seconds."
They laughed together.
Sofia opened social media.
"The sympathy comments are incredible."
Marco leaned closer.
"What are people saying?"
She smiled as she read aloud.
"'Poor Marco. He stood by his unstable wife for years.'"
Another.
"'He deserves happiness.'"
Another.
"'That Elena always looked emotionally exhausting.'"
Marco smirked.
"The public believes whatever they're told."
His phone buzzed.
It was his real estate agent.
"The apartment transfer is complete."
"Excellent."
"The money should arrive tomorrow."
Marco leaned back comfortably.
"Perfect timing."
He looked around the luxury apartment.
"Our new life starts today."
Neither of them noticed the email arriving in his inbox.
Subject:
URGENT: RICCI INTERNATIONAL LEGAL NOTICE.
He ignored it.
Instead...
He kissed Sofia.
The biggest mistake of his life had already begun.
Late that night, Alessandro knocked gently on my bedroom door.
"May I come in?"
I nodded.
He carried a small velvet box.
"What is this?"
"Your mother's."
Inside rested a simple silver key.
Nothing else.
"No jewelry?"
"This is more valuable."
He turned the key over.
Engraved on its side were tiny words.
Vault 17.
Banco Real de España.
"What does it open?"
"Your mother never told me."
"Then how do you know it's important?"
"Because she made me promise to give it to you only after the inheritance was activated."
He hesitated.
"There was one more instruction."
"What?"
"If anyone besides Elena asks about the vault..."
He looked directly into my eyes.
"...assume they are your enemy."
A chill crawled across my skin.
May you like
Who else knew about it?
And what exactly had my mother hidden there?
