The Darkest Vow

Imagine sitting in a quiet room, staring at a blank wall, while your whole world falls apart.

Imagine that exact feeling when the phone rings, a voice on the line tells you to come down and identify a body, and suddenly your reality shatters into pieces.

In all my twenty-four years, I never thought I would face something like that so early in my life. I always thought death was something far away, something that only happened to old people in hospital beds.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed in my uncle’s spare room, my fingers tight around a single flower stem. It was a fresh purple Iris rose, the exact same kind that the police found resting over my father’s cold chest just hours ago.

I turned my head and looked at the trash bin sitting in the corner of the room. It was already half-full with dried, dead petals and old notes.

For three long years, someone had been sending me those exact same roses. Anonymous packages, strange gifts, and notes left where only I could find them. I used to throw them away, thinking it was just some creepy guy from my street or a weird client from my dad's past.

Now, holding the fresh rose from my father's body, my stomach twisted into a tight knot. The stalker didn't just watch me anymore. He had killed my father, and he was using these flowers to throw the truth right in my face.

A quiet knock sounded at the door before it creaked open. Uncle Hector stepped inside, holding a small cardboard box in his arms. His eyes were red, and his face looked tired and aged.

"Iris," he said softly, walking over to set the box on the small desk near the bed. "The police finished looking through your dad's personal desk at his main house. Detective Vance said you shouldn't go home yet. He told me to bring this stuff here for you instead."

I looked up at him, my hands still holding the rose. "They're closing the case, aren't they?"

Hector let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. "They say it was a robbery, sweetheart. Someone broke in, took his wallet, and shot him when he fought back."

"A robber doesn't leave a fresh flower on a dead man's chest, Uncle Hector," I said, my voice rising slightly. "Look at the bin! I've been getting these exact same flowers for years!"

Hector looked at the trash can, then back at me with deep concern in his eyes. "Iris, please don't do this to yourself. Your father spent his entire legal career fighting dangerous people. He kept you hidden from the world for a reason. If you start digging into this, you might draw those same people straight to this apartment."

"He was my father," I whispered, tears burning the back of my eyes. "I can't just sit here and pretend this was a random street crime."

“Iris I know you are hurt by this but don’t do something you might regret dear.” Hector said calmly, hoping I would listen to him.

"Just rest for tonight, okay?" Hector said gently, stepping back toward the door. "Don't go through the box until morning. We'll talk about everything tomorrow."

He gave me one last sad look and closed the door behind him.

Once his footsteps faded down the hall, I stood up and walked over to the desk. I reached into the box. Inside were a few of my dad's personal pens, his spare glasses, a family notebook, and right at the bottom, a small black flash drive wrapped in a piece of paper.

I pulled out the drive and plugged it directly into my laptop. My hands were shaking, but as soon as the screen lit up, my training took over. I opened my hacking programs and began running lines of code to bypass the password screen. It took me a few minutes of intense typing, but finally, the drive unlocked.

A folder named Moretti Trial appeared on the screen.

I clicked it open and began reading through the old legal files. Five years ago, my dad had taken on a massive court case against Vito Moretti, the head of the biggest crime syndicate in Chicago. My dad's evidence had put the old man in prison for life.

Then I found a second folder, saved just last week. Inside was a clear photograph of a young man stepping out of a black car. He had dark hair, a sharp jawline, and eyes so cold they made my breath hitch.

The name under the picture read: Demetrius Moretti.

I read my father's handwritten notes attached to the file: Demetrius took over the family business after his father went to prison. He is ruthless and smart. Stay away from him Iris, no matter what you do, don’t cross paths with that devil.

My began fast, I gripped my hands tight to stop it from shaking.

Demetrius Moretti. He was the son of the man my father locked away. He had every reason in the world to want my father dead. He might be the person behind all this and the chances of him connected to whoever is stalking me is high.

Before I could process the shock, my phone on the desk vibrated.

I picked it up with cold fingers. It was an anonymous text from a hidden number.

Did you like the final gift, Iris? He shouldn't have stood in my way.

I stared at the screen, my blood turning to ice. The stalker was actively reading my movements. He knew I was looking at the files. He was playing mind games, mocking me right when I was at my weakest point.

I squeezed the phone in my hand, staring at Demetrius's picture on my laptop screen. The fear inside me slowly twisted into anger.

"You think you won," I whispered to the empty room. "You think you can kill my father and watch me break."

I closed the laptop and tucked the flash drive deep into my pocket.

If Demetrius Moretti was the leader of the city's underworld, then I was going to find a way into his world and make him pay for what he did.