80

[REBECCA]
As soon as I realized who was standing in front of me, I froze.
When I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders, I flinched in fright but quickly calmed down when I realized it was Artemy. He gave me a comforting squeeze.
Damian’s eyes moved to Artemy’s arm around my shoulder, his stare burning holes into my skin. His gaze moved to mine, and I almost flinched at the glare he sent me. Moving further against Artemy’s body, I sought comfort from his touch.
“Howard.” Artemy nodded toward the other man.
Turning to his father, he did the same thing. “Damian.” His voice was cold and void of emotion, a strange way to address his father.
“We’ll have breakfast and then discuss the matter,” Artemy continued.
Damian walked around me without a second glance, while Howard’s eyes moved to mine again. He stared at me for a few chilling seconds, his gaze penetrating and almost frightening. There was a strange look on his face, but then he shook his head, as if he was clearing his mind. Without sparing us another glance, he followed Damian.
As soon as they were out of sight, my shoulders sagged in relief, and I took a deep breath, trying to calm my wildly racing heart. Swallowing nervously, I peeked over my shoulder to see them walking upstairs.
“You don’t have to worry about them. They won’t hurt you,” Artemy muttered in my ears.
“They look scary,” I whispered back. His chest rippled with a low chuckle, his arms tightening around me in the process. He placed a kiss on my temple, and I turned around in his arms, facing him.
“Scarier than me?” he teased.
“No. You are worse,” I admitted truthfully. All the men living in this house were dangerous and had a dark, tense vibe around them, but Artemy had the most chilling aura.
“And are you scared? Of me?” Artemy asked, pulling me closer.
Shaking my head, I placed a kiss in the middle of his chest. “No. I know you won’t hurt me.” Leaning on my tip-toes, I gave him a quick kiss and pulled away. “I’ll see you later.”
Artemy let me go with a nod. Sending him a smile, I walked away toward the back garden. The fresh morning air hit my face in a soothing manner, and I closed my eyes. How could I face Damian without breaking down?
My father killed his wife. Mercilessly and cruelly.
Every single time it came back to this…I was an Cavalieri. The daughter of the man who destroyed a once-perfect family.
I wished there was a way to erase my past. Everything would have been easier if I wasn’t an Cavalieri. The guilt of lying to everyone was slowly eating me alive. My heart ached at my own betrayal.
How long can I keep this secret before everything crumbles under my feet?
***
I didn’t see Artemy or the others for the rest of the day. I was tense, as if any moment now everything would end.
“Avim and Leon were living on the streets when Artemy found them.” Lynda’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Right. We were talking about Avim.
“I don’t know much of their history, but Artemy does. All I know is that they are cousins and they had deadbeat parents,” she explained.
“Was Avim always brooding like this?” I asked.
She nodded before taking a bite of her apple. “Oh yeah, definitely. He doesn’t talk much.”
Placing the last plate in the cabinet, I turned toward Lynda. “And Leon?”
Her expression changed the slightest bit, and she shrugged. “He’s quiet but is much more easy-going than Avim. When he was a new recruit, he was with Brayden a lot. So you can say he is a second Brayden now.”
Whenever the conversation would change to Leon, Lynda would shut down and change the topic. I was curious why, but she wouldn’t say anything.
“They are all really close. Brayden, Milandro, Leon, Avim, and Artemy. The loyalty they have toward Artemy is really endearing,” I said, leaning against the counter.
“He trusts them a lot,” Lynda agreed with a nod.
Getting up from the stool, Lynda walked away. “I’ll go change, then we can watch something.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you in my room.” I nodded at her. I watched her leave the room.
Giving the cleaned kitchen a final glance, I walked out with a smile, but my steps faltered on the first step of the stairs when I saw Howard coming down, his phone to his ear.
When he caught sight of me, he stopped mid-stride, his gaze roaming over my face. My throat was suddenly dry with nervousness, and I looked down quickly before continuing my way upstairs. As I got closer to where he was standing, my body went cold, the tiny hairs at the back of my neck standing in fear and panic.
I buried my trembling hands in the skirt of my dress as I passed by Howard, my shoulders sagging in relief when I walked ahead of him.
But my relief was short-lived. His voice stopped me in my tracks, my body freezing at his words. “Have we met before?”
Closing my eyes tightly in horror, I swallowed several times. Did he figure out my truth?
I took a deep breath and made sure my face was a mask of indifference before turning around to face him.
Giving Howard a blank look, I shook my head, trying to look convincing and not guilty. “No. That wouldn’t be possible. I don’t remember meeting you,” I replied. At least that wasn’t a lie. The truth was easier to speak.
Howard cocked his head to the side and took a step up. His eyes skimmed over my face before nodding. “You remind me a lot of someone I knew,” he elaborated.
His words were a surprise, and I stayed frozen as he stopped in front of me. Even though I was a stair above him, we were almost the same height.
Howard brought a hand up to my face, his finger moving under my eyes, but he didn’t touch me. As if he realized what he was doing, his arm fell down. His face presented a resigned and almost painful expression.
“You have my Olivia’s eyes,” he murmured so low that I almost missed it.
I sucked in a harsh breath at the name. Olivia. That was my mother’s name. How was this possible? But then I realized he said my Olivia. The person couldn’t be my mother.
“She had a daughter name Rebecca too,” he continued in the same bleak tone.
A coincidence like this was impossible. My mother died when I was just a baby. Howard was the enemy, so how would he know my mother? He called Olivia his, claiming her as his woman.
“I’m sorry. My mother’s name is not Olivia.” The lie slipped past my lips effortlessly, but panic welled inside of me. Taking a deep breath, I continued. “She couldn’t be me.”
Howard stared at me for another second before letting out a harsh and emotionless laugh. “Of course she isn’t you,” he agreed without a second thought, surprising me even further.
My fingers tightened around the fabric of my dress, and I sent him a shaky smile. He took a step down, putting his hands in the pocket of his black slacks.
But his next words were enough to send a chill down my spine. “The other Rebecca is dead.”
What? My mind screamed at this new revelation.
I stared at him in shock, but he didn’t notice. Howard was already turning around and walking down the stairs, but not before I caught a flash of pain in his expression. I stared at Howard’s retreating back, feeling completely horrified and appalled at his words.
His last words to me kept ringing in my ears as I walked into my room.
The other Rebecca is dead.
I didn’t know anything about my mother. No one ever talked about her. It was like she never even existed. But was it possible? Did Howard know my mother?
“No, it couldn’t be,” I whispered. He said the other Rebecca was dead. And I was alive. It was all a big misunderstanding. I tried to soothe myself with that thought.
I wished I knew more about my past. About my own family. But I knew nothing. I lived my life as a ghost, completely forgotten by my own father and everyone else. Only Raffaele was a constant in my life.
But he did nothing except ruin me even more. Every day spent with him, I lost a piece of myself until I had nothing left.
Could Howard be the key to my past? Was my mother his Olivia?
I wanted to know, but I couldn’t afford to reveal myself. My identity needed to stay hidden, and the only way to continue this facade was to be indifferent. I shouldn’t care. For all I knew, it was just a big coincidence.
But Howard’s words were etched deep into my mind.
Everything was so uncertain.
Even my fate.