Page 18 of Secret Revenge

“I don’t know yet,” Turner admitted, his face pale and drawn. “But I’m certain they’re the ones who fed me the false information about your father killing Liliana’s mother.”

“Tell me more about this mole,” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous. “Why did they feed you that false information about Liliana’s mother?”

Turner’s eyes flickered with a hint of apprehension before he responded. “It seems that Bianchi wanted to drive a wedge between you and Liliana. He knew how fiercely loyal she is to her family – by convincing her that your father had killed her mother, he intended to turn her against you.”

I clenched my fists, feeling the cold rage surging through my veins. How dare he try to manipulate our love and loyalty for his own twisted purposes? But there was something else that bothered me, a gnawing question at the back of my mind.

“Her mother’s death was listed as an accident, right?” I asked, my gaze never leaving Turner’s face.

He hesitated for a moment before replying. “Yes, it’s still officially classified as an accident. But I don’t think it was.”

“Then who do you think killed her?” I pressed, my patience wearing thin.

“I suspect someone in Liliana’s own family,” Turner admitted, his voice barely audible over the distant sound of a car engine. “If it were an outsider, the Riccis would have sought vengeance years ago.”

The revelation hit me like a punch to the gut, robbing me of breath as I struggled to comprehend the implications. Could someone so close to Liliana have been responsible for such a monstrous act?

“Turner,” I warned, my voice laced with menace, “if you’re going to make such a claim, you’d better be damn sure of your facts.”

“Look, I can’t prove it yet,” he said, holding up his hands defensively. “But the evidence points in that direction. You need to be careful, Nicholas. The danger is greater than ever now.”

“Because of the mole?” I asked, my mind racing with possibilities.

“Exactly,” Turner confirmed. “If they think they’ve been uncovered or if they feel threatened, they may strike. Trust no one, Nicholas. That’s the only way you’ll survive this.”

The memory of the pain and confusion that revelation had caused surged through me, fueling my anger. I clenched my fists, fighting to stay in control. The safety of my wife was at stake, and I couldn’t allow myself to be consumed by rage.

“Find them and bring them to me,” I ordered, my voice cold and hard as steel.

“No. They’ve got to stand trial. The best I can do is tell you who they are after they’ve been arrested.”

I stood there for a moment, the revelation sinking in like a knife twisting in my gut. Trust had become a luxury I could no longer afford. What if the mole knew about this meeting? What if they were watching us even now, ready to report back to Bianchi? “If you way doesn’t work, I’ll make sure mine will.”

The wind whispered through the trees, sending shivers down my spine. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, made me question whether we were truly alone. I continually scanned my surroundings and as I walked away from our clandestine meeting, the darkness seemed to close in around me, tightening its grip. The air seemed thick with deception and treachery.

Who can I trust? I wondered, my thoughts a whirlwind of paranoia and anger. “What if there are more moles, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike when I’m most vulnerable?”

The thought was sickening. I needed to know how far this betrayal reached. Who else had been compromised, pulled into Bianchi’s twisted web of lies?

My heart thundered in my chest as I faced Turner, the darkness of the secluded location pressing in on us like a heavy weight. The anger and frustration I felt churned within me, but I held my composure, knowing that now was not the time to lose control.

My heart pounded as I approached my home, the conversation with Turner still echoing in my ears. The night was cold and quiet, with only the sound of my footsteps breaking the silence. My mind raced with thoughts of moles, betrayal, and death. As I opened the door, the warmth of our home engulfed me, offering a temporary refuge from the darkness outside.

“Nicholas?” Liliana’s voice called out, her concern evident. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes reflecting the pain I knew she still felt.

“Come, sit,” I said, guiding her to the living room. We settled onto the couch, a comfortable distance between us that belied the emotional turmoil we both endured. I could feel her eyes on me, searching for answers, for reassurance.

“Liliana... Detective Turner revealed something disturbing tonight. There’s a mole in the police department working for Bianchi,” I said, my voice low and controlled.

Her deep brown eyes widened in disbelief. “A mole? But... how can that be?”

“Turner doesn’t know all the details yet, but he suspects this mole provided false information about your mother’s death.” I paused, swallowing the anger that threatened to rise within me. “The mole may have manipulated the situation to drive a wedge between us. He thinks, and just hear me out, he thinks it might have been someone in your family.”

Liliana’s breath caught in her throat, her hand moving to cover her mouth as she processed the revelation. “No one in my family would have killed my mother,” she insisted, her voice barely above a whisper. “We all loved her. He can’t be right.”

I studied the conviction in her eyes, wishing I could share her certainty. But Turner’s words rang too true in my mind. “We can’t trust anyone, Liliana. Only each other.”

“Nicholas...” Her voice trembled, revealing her vulnerability. “What are we going to do?”

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