Chapter 9 - DANIEL
Daniel Moretti died in a car crash at seventeen.
That was the family story.
It was true.
It was also incomplete.
Daniel had been fighting with Galen for months.
He hated bodyguards.
Hated family expectations.
Hated being introduced as “Galen Moretti’s son” before anyone asked his own name.
One night Daniel asked to drive alone to a friend’s house.
Galen refused.
Daniel shouted.
Galen shouted louder.
Then Daniel took a spare car anyway.
He crashed twenty minutes later.
No alcohol.
No chase.
No enemy.
A wet road.
Too much speed.
One bad turn.
Galen spent years telling himself one thing.
If he had kept Daniel home, his son would be alive.
That belief became the foundation of how he protected everyone afterward.
More guards.
More rules.
More certainty.
Then Serena entered his life.
She understood the grief.
For years she did not challenge it.
After Eira was born, she had to.
Galen wanted security everywhere.
Serena saw fear.
The same fear that once made him try to control Daniel.
Serena asked him one night:
“What happens when Eira is seventeen and says no?”
Galen never forgot his answer.
“She won’t have to.”
Serena looked frightened.
Not because he threatened Eira.
Because he truly believed love could remove the need for choice.
Galen sat in the small house.
Michael remained near the door.
Ainsley stood by the window.
Eira played quietly with the wooden box.
Then Michael spoke.
“Serena told me about Daniel.”
Galen looked up.
“She asked if you had ever forgiven yourself.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“No.”
Michael waited.
“That wasn’t the question.”
Galen looked away.
He had built his identity around never repeating the mistake.
But maybe the mistake was not allowing Daniel to leave.
Maybe it was believing Daniel’s death proved that control was protection.
Serena saw it.
She wanted the house partly because she did not want Eira growing up beneath Daniel’s ghost.
Then Ainsley spoke quietly.
“Serena told me that too.”
Galen turned.
“When?”
“At the lake house.”
The day Serena died.
During the argument.
Serena accused Ainsley of encouraging Galen’s worst fear.
Every time Ainsley told him Serena might leave, she knew he would react more strongly because Daniel had once left during an argument and never returned.
Ainsley knew.
She used it.
Her face crumpled.
“That is the part I could never forgive myself for.”
Galen stared.
Not the engagement.
Not the ring.
Not even the deleted call.
She had deliberately touched the deepest wound in Galen because fear made him easier to control.
Then Eira walked toward them.
She held the locket.
“Daddy.”
Galen lifted her.
“Was Daniel my brother?”
Everyone went still.
She had heard the name.
Children always heard more than adults believed.
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“He died.”
“Like Mommy?”
“Yes.”
Eira thought.
“Do you have his picture?”
Galen froze.
He did.
But not where Eira could see it.
Daniel’s photographs were stored away.
Because looking hurt.
Serena’s things had remained.
Daniel’s had disappeared long before Ainsley tried to erase Serena.
Galen understood the hypocrisy immediately.
He had condemned Ainsley for removing a dead parent from Eira’s life.
Then realized he had removed a dead brother from it himself.
“Why don’t I know him?”
Eira asked.
Galen could not blame Ainsley.
Could not blame Michael.
Could not blame Serena.
“That was Daddy’s mistake.”
Eira touched his face.
“Can I see?”
“Yes.”
They returned to the Moretti estate that evening.
Galen opened the locked cabinet in his study.
Photographs of Daniel.
Baseball uniforms.
A crooked school picture.
A teenager rolling his eyes at the camera.
Eira looked carefully.
“He looks like you.”
Galen laughed softly.
“He hated hearing that.”
Then something fell from behind one photograph.
An envelope.
Galen recognized Daniel’s handwriting.
He had never seen it.
Michael picked it up.
“When was this put here?”
Galen shook his head.
The envelope was addressed to:
DAD.
Galen opened it.
The letter had been written the afternoon Daniel died.
His hands began shaking.
Dad,
I know you think I want away from you.
I don’t.
I just want to know whether you still love me when I don’t obey you.
Galen stopped reading.
Eira rested her head against his chest.
Then he forced himself to finish.
If I come home tonight, please don’t punish me for leaving.
Talk to me.
I’m trying to tell you I’m scared I’ll become you before I figure out who I am.
Galen closed his eyes.
Daniel had planned to come home.
The drive was not an escape.
It was a pause.
For twenty-eight years Galen had believed his son died running away from him.
Daniel had been planning to return.
Then Michael noticed a second page.
Galen unfolded it.
Only one sentence.
And if I ever have a little sister someday, let her be brave enough to tell you no.
Galen looked down at Eira.
The room disappeared.
May you like
Daniel had written about a sister who did not yet exist.
And somehow his final request had reached her.
