CHAPTER 2 – THE SISTER WHO WAS NEVER DEAD
The gun fell from Logan Marchetti’s hand.
Not because he was careless.
Not because he was afraid.
Because for the first time in eight years, the impossible had a face.
A voice.
A heartbeat.
“Elena…”
Her name escaped his mouth like a prayer he had forgotten how to say.
The woman standing at the top of the stairs looked nothing like the sister he remembered.
The Elena from his memories was sunlight.
She was messy paint on her fingers, flowers growing in broken ceramic pots, laughter echoing through the halls of their childhood home.
She was the only person who could walk into a room full of dangerous men and make them lower their voices.
This woman looked like someone who had survived a war.
Her once-bright eyes carried exhaustion.
Her face was thinner.
There was a small scar near her temple that Logan had never seen before.
But those eyes…
Those same gray-green eyes.
The eyes he had seen staring back at him from two frightened little girls.
They were Elena’s.
They were alive.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Even the storm outside seemed to hold its breath.
Then Logan took one step forward.
“Elena.”
His voice cracked.
And that terrified him more than anything else.
Because Logan Marchetti did not crack.
Not in front of enemies.
Not in front of death.
Not even when he buried his parents.
But his dead sister standing alive in front of him?
That broke something inside him.
Elena slowly walked down the stairs.
Every step looked painful.
When she reached the bottom, she stopped several feet away.
Neither of them moved.
Eight years of grief stood between them.
Eight years of unanswered questions.
Eight years of anger.
Finally, Logan whispered:
“You’re alive.”
Elena closed her eyes.
A tear escaped.
“I know.”
His jaw tightened.
“You know?”
The pain in his voice made her flinch.
“You know what I did?”
“I buried you.”
The words came out colder than he intended.
But they were true.
“I stood beside a grave that didn’t have your body in it.”
Elena looked down.
“I know.”
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I had no choice.”
“No choice?”
His voice rose.
Marcus immediately looked toward the children.
Nova and Luna had woken up.
They were watching silently.
Confused.
Scared.
Logan noticed and forced himself to breathe.
Not because he wanted to calm down.
Because Elena’s daughters were watching him.
And he refused to let them see him destroy their mother.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
He lowered his voice.
“Why?”
Elena looked at the girls.
Then back at him.
“Because Vincent wanted me dead.”
The name hit the room like a gunshot.
Marcus stiffened.
Logan stared at his sister.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Vincent raised us.”
“He raised you.”
The difference in her words cut deeper than any accusation.
“He loved me.”
Elena’s expression broke.
“Did he?”
Silence.
Logan looked away.
Because suddenly every memory felt different.
Every conversation.
Every moment.
Like someone had taken his entire life and changed the meaning of everything.
“Tell me everything.”
Elena sat slowly on the old sofa.
Her daughters immediately moved toward her.
Nova climbed beside her.
Luna grabbed her hand.
The sight nearly destroyed Logan.
For eight years, he had imagined Elena alone in the darkness.
But she hadn’t been alone.
She had been fighting.
She had been raising children.
His children.
His family.
“My death was planned,” Elena said.
Logan remained standing.
“By Vincent?”
She nodded.
“Eight years ago, I discovered something.”
“What?”
“Money laundering. Illegal weapons deals. Political corruption.”
Marcus’s expression hardened.
“Vincent?”
Elena nodded.
“He wasn’t protecting the family business, Logan. He was building something much bigger.”
Logan felt anger rising.
“He would never—”
“He already did.”
Elena reached for the sketchbook.
“The paintings.”
She opened it.
Turned to a hidden page.
Logan had never noticed it before.
A thin piece of paper was carefully attached inside the cover.
Elena removed it.
A list.
Names.
Dates.
Numbers.
Bank accounts.
Logan stared.
His world shifted.
“This is evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Why hide it in paintings?”
“Because Vincent knew I kept journals. He knew I trusted art more than people.”
She smiled sadly.
“He always thought paintings were just emotions.”
Logan looked at the pages.
“He was wrong.”
“He underestimated me.”
For a moment, Logan saw his sister again.
The girl who used to beat him at chess.
The woman who walked into rooms full of criminals and never lowered her head.
“What happened that night?”
Elena looked toward the window.
The rain streamed down the glass.
“I was going to expose him.”
Logan said nothing.
“I had copies of everything. I was going to give them to federal investigators.”
Marcus cursed quietly.
“But Vincent found out.”
Elena nodded.
“He followed me.”
Her fingers tightened.
“He wanted the evidence. He wanted my silence.”
Logan’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“What did he do?”
“He tried to kill me.”
The room became freezing.
“He chased me to the bridge.”
Logan remembered the report.
The broken guardrail.
The empty river.
“He pushed you?”
“No.”
Elena looked at him.
“That was the one thing he didn’t expect.”
“What?”
“I survived.”
Logan stared.
“I survived the crash.”
A thousand emotions crossed his face.
“You survived…”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you come home?”
Elena looked at her daughters.
And Logan understood.
Before she even spoke.
“Because Vincent found me.”
His fists tightened.
“He found you?”
“He came to the hospital.”
Logan went completely still.
“He told me if I returned, he would kill my children.”
The room went silent.
“My children weren’t even born yet.”
Logan looked at Nova and Luna.
The anger inside him became something darker.
Something dangerous.
“He knew?”
“He knew I was pregnant.”
“With twins?”
Elena nodded.
“He knew everything.”
Logan turned away.
Because if he looked at Elena, he might lose control.
And Logan Marchetti losing control was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
“Where did you go?”
“Everywhere.”
Elena smiled sadly.
“I changed my name. I moved constantly. I learned how to disappear.”
She touched Luna’s hair.
“But Vincent always had people looking.”
“Then how did you end up here?”
Elena looked at the old house.
“Because I knew eventually he would come.”
Logan frowned.
“What?”
“He wanted Greystone Manor.”
“Why?”
“Because this house holds something he needs.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“Something besides the evidence?”
Elena nodded.
“The original files.”
Logan looked at her.
“What original files?”
“The ones your father kept.”
That stopped him.
Their father.
A man who died fifteen years ago.
A man Logan barely remembered.
“What did our father know?”
Elena looked toward the fireplace.
“Everything.”
The room fell silent.
“Our father knew Vincent was corrupt. He was gathering proof before he died.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed.
“My father died in an accident.”
Elena looked at him.
“Did he?”
The question hit harder than an answer.
Logan slowly sat down.
His entire life was becoming a puzzle.
A puzzle where every piece he had been given was fake.
“Where are the files?”
Elena looked toward the painting room.
“Hidden here.”
Logan followed her gaze.
“The studio?”
She nodded.
“Father trusted you would come back someday.”
Logan laughed once.
A bitter sound.
“After eight years?”
“He knew you.”
Elena smiled faintly.
“You never really left this place.”
That hurt because it was true.
Every year, on Elena’s birthday, Logan came here.
He sat alone.
He drank alone.
He remembered alone.
He had never admitted that Greystone Manor was the only place where he still felt close to her.
A loud sound interrupted them.
Glass breaking.
Everyone froze.
Marcus immediately pulled his weapon.
The girls screamed.
Logan moved faster than thought.
He grabbed Nova and Luna, pulling them behind him.
Another crash.
From outside.
Someone was inside the property.
Marcus checked the window.
His face changed.
“We have company.”
“How many?”
“Too many.”
Elena’s face went pale.
“No.”
Logan looked at her.
“You know them?”
She whispered:
“Vincent’s men.”
The old house suddenly felt smaller.
The past had found them.
And this time—
Logan Marchetti was not going to lose his sister again.
He picked up his gun.
His eyes became cold.
The eyes of the man the world feared.
“Marcus.”
“Yes, boss?”
“Get Elena and the girls downstairs.”
“And you?”
Logan looked toward the front door.
Toward the men coming to destroy his family.
“I’m going to remind them why they should have killed me before I became angry.”
The first bullet shattered the window.
The girls screamed.
Elena grabbed Logan’s arm.
“Please.”
He looked at her.
For eight years, he dreamed of hearing her voice.
Now she was here.
Alive.
Terrified.
Needing him.
“I lost you once,” Logan whispered.
His eyes hardened.
“I won’t lose you again.”
May you like
Then he walked into the darkness.
And the war for the Marchetti family began.
