Chapter 2 - The Mafia King Took Me to a Vault Sealed for Twenty-Seven Years—And Inside Was a Letter Addressed to Me Before I Was BornMireia slept for exactly forty-seven minutes.
She knew because she checked.
At 2:18 a.m., she lay down fully dressed.
At 3:05, she opened her eyes.
After that, sleep became impossible.
Caleb.
Alyssa.
Elena.
Darius.
The Covenant.
A bank vault.
Apparently her life had decided ordinary heartbreak wasn't dramatic enough.
At seven, she made coffee.
At seven-fifteen, someone knocked.
She checked the peephole.
Darius.
She opened the door.
He wore a black overcoat over a dark suit.
“Good morning.”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“That bad?”
“I slept forty-seven minutes.”
“Specific.”
“I counted.”
He held out a coffee.
She stared.
“What?”
“Coffee.”
“I can see that.”
“Then we're making progress.”
“I don't take beverages from mafia bosses.”
“Billionaire.”
“Same problem.”
“Fair.”
She accepted it anyway.
Black.
One sugar.
She looked at him.
“How did you know?”
“You drank three cups at dinner.”
“You watched me?”
“I notice things.”
“That sounds threatening.”
“It wasn't intended that way.”
Mireia took a cautious sip.
Perfect.
Annoying.
“Where are we going?”
“First National Trust.”
“Downtown?”
“Yes.”
“Why would a criminal conspiracy use a normal bank?”
“Because criminals appreciate customer service.”
She stared.
Darius's mouth moved.
“You make jokes.”
“Occasionally.”
“You don't look like someone who makes jokes.”
“I've been criticized.”
She grabbed her coat.
They left.
A black sedan waited downstairs.
Mireia stopped.
“No.”
Darius looked at the car.
“What?”
“I'm not getting into a mysterious black car with you.”
“It's a Mercedes.”
“That doesn't improve the kidnapping optics.”
“You can take your own car.”
She blinked.
“Oh.”
Darius opened the rear door.
“Or walk.”
“It's January.”
“Then perhaps reconsider the Mercedes.”
She got in.
The bank manager met them personally.
That told Mireia more about Darius's influence than any rumor.
They descended below the main vault.
A private archive room held safety-deposit boxes established decades earlier.
The key from Elena's necklace fit Box 417.
The manager left.
Darius stood back.
“Your box.”
“You're not opening it?”
“No.”
“You brought me here.”
“Yes.”
“Don't you want to know what's inside?”
“Very much.”
“Then why—”
“Because it belongs to you.”
Something inside Mireia shifted.
She turned the key.
The box opened.
Inside were three things.
A photograph.
A cassette tape.
And a letter.
Mireia lifted the photograph first.
Two young women stood outside a Chicago nightclub.
One was Elena.
Mireia recognized her from family photographs labeled Margaret.
The other woman resembled Darius.
“My mother,” he said.
Mireia looked at him.
“She was beautiful.”
“Yes.”
“What was her name?”
“Serafina.”
The women in the photograph were laughing.
Arms around each other.
Friends.
Mireia opened the letter.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
Across the top:
To Mireia, if Robert keeps his promise.
Her heart stopped.
“How could she know my name?”
Darius went still.
“When were you born?”
“Twenty-nine years ago.”
He frowned.
“Elena disappeared twenty-seven years ago.”
“So I was two.”
“Yes.”
Mireia read.
Mireia,
If you're reading this, then either Robert finally told you the truth or everything went terribly wrong.
I hope it's the first.
You know me as Margaret because that's the name Robert and I agreed I would use around you.
Mireia's hands started shaking.
“She was around me.”
Darius remained silent.
My real name is Elena Dalton.
I am your aunt.
And the necklace I gave you belonged to your mother.
Mireia stopped.
“No.”
Darius's expression sharpened.
She continued.
Your biological mother.
The room disappeared.
Mireia sat.
“My mother is Catherine Dalton.”
Darius said nothing.
“She raised me.”
“Yes.”
“She gave birth to me.”
“Maybe.”
“No.”
Mireia stood again.
“No.”
She read further.
Your mother was my closest friend, Serafina Villano.
Darius went completely still.
Mireia couldn't breathe.
She looked at him.
“No.”
Darius took the letter.
Read it himself.
His face lost color.
Serafina Villano.
Darius's mother.
Mireia's biological mother.
Impossible.
Mireia laughed.
It sounded broken.
“That would make—”
“No.”
Darius's voice cut through the room.
She stared.
He calculated.
His mother died twenty-seven years ago.
Mireia was twenty-nine.
Darius was thirty-nine.
Ten-year age difference.
Not siblings through the same father necessarily.
But—
“My father?” Mireia whispered.
Darius read further.
Then stopped.
His shoulders loosened slightly.
“Not mine.”
“What?”
He handed back the letter.
Your father was Jonathan Dalton, Robert's older brother.
Mireia stared.
Jonathan Dalton.
Another name she'd never heard.
Darius spoke quietly.
“That makes you my mother's daughter.”
“And your—”
“Half sister.”
Silence.
Mireia sat down so quickly the chair nearly tipped.
“Oh my God.”
Darius looked equally disturbed.
“You flirted with me last night.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You looked at me.”
“I look at people.”
“You did the eye thing.”
“What eye thing?”
“The terrifying attractive—”
She stopped.
Darius looked horrified.
“Please never finish that sentence.”
For the first time in twenty-four hours, Mireia laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then she cried.
Because apparently those emotions had decided to cooperate.
Darius sat opposite.
He didn't touch her.
“Mireia.”
“I was going to marry Caleb yesterday.”
“I know.”
“Today you're apparently my brother.”
“Half brother.”
“That is not better.”
“No.”
She laughed through tears again.
Then Darius found the cassette.
The bank had an old player available.
They listened.
Serafina's voice filled the room.
Young.
Warm.
Terrified.
She explained everything.
The Covenant was a network built by several powerful Chicago families during the 1980s.
Politicians.
Judges.
Business owners.
Criminal organizations.
Serafina discovered they were laundering money through charitable foundations and trafficking stolen pharmaceuticals overseas.
Jonathan Dalton helped her collect evidence.
They fell in love.
Mireia was born.
To protect the baby, Robert and Catherine Dalton publicly claimed Mireia as their own daughter.
Jonathan and Serafina planned to disappear.
They never made it.
Jonathan was killed.
Serafina survived the first attack but was murdered months later.
Elena escaped with the evidence.
Then vanished.
The tape ended with Serafina saying:
“Mireia must never belong to them.”
Silence.
Darius looked at the dead cassette player.
His eyes were wet.
Mireia realized she'd never seen a powerful man work so hard not to cry.
“Darius.”
He looked away.
She stood.
Then stopped.
“Can I hug you?”
He looked at her.
Surprised.
“Yes.”
Mireia hugged him.
For several seconds, Darius Villano stood rigid.
Then his arms closed around his sister.
His sister.
The word felt impossible.
When they separated, he looked different.
Not less dangerous.
More human.
“We need to find Elena,” Mireia said.
“Yes.”
“And ask my father why he lied.”
“Yes.”
Her phone rang.
Robert Dalton.
Mireia answered.
“Dad.”
“Mireia, where are you?”
“At First National Trust.”
Silence.
“With Darius.”
More silence.
“We opened Box 417.”
Robert whispered something.
“Dad?”
“You need to leave.”
“Why?”
“Now.”
Darius heard the urgency.
He stood.
Robert continued.
“The Covenant has been watching that vault for twenty-seven years.”
Mireia's blood turned cold.
The lights went out.
Darius pulled her behind the steel table.
Gunfire erupted outside.
May you like
And Mireia understood.
The past had finally realized she was alive.
Related Stories
