The Forced Marriage: The Journey Begins

Chapter Twenty-Three

The car ride back to the mansion was fraught with tension. Sarah couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over her like a shroud. She had never felt more out of her depth than she did now, surrounded by the dark secrets of the Wentworth family.

When they arrived, the mansion loomed before them, its ivy-covered walls seeming to hold their breath in anticipation of their next move.

Damien led the way, his eyes scanning the grounds as if looking for clues that the rest of the world had overlooked. Inside, the house was eerily quiet, the shadows seeming to thicken as the clock chimed the hour. 

They made their way to the study, the room where Mr. Wentworth had spent so much of his time, surrounded by the books and artifacts that had been his solace. "We need to find anything that mentions Elena," he said, his voice tinged with urgency.

Sarah nodded, moving to the desk and starting to sift through the dusty papers. Her heart was racing as they worked, the realization that they had stumbled upon something significant setting her nerves on edge. 

As the hours ticked by, the room grew colder, the air thick with the scent of dust and forgotten memories. Sarah's eyes began to burn with fatigue, but she pushed on, driven by a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in a long time. Her fingers trembled as they brushed against the spine of a leather-bound book, the title worn away with time. 

Curiosity piqued, she pulled it from the shelf, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside was a single key, shimmering in the dim light like a silent beacon. She turned to show it to Damien, but her voice caught in her throat when the bookshelf behind her groaned and shifted with a sudden, almost animate motion.

Damien's eyes widened, and together they watched as the shelves parted like curtains, revealing a hidden chamber. 

The room was lined with more photos of Elena, each one capturing a moment of her brief life. They were arranged almost lovingly, as if the walls were a shrine to her memory. 

Sarah stepped into the chamber, her heart pounding in her chest. The air was thick with dust and the scent of secrets long buried. She reached out to touch a photo, her fingertips brushing the frozen smile of a young girl who had never truly lived.

The diaries lay on a velvet-covered table, their leather spines worn from the years of being hidden. Sarah picked one up, feeling the weight of the untold story within. 

Damien's eyes searched hers, a silent question hanging in the air. The pages of the diary were yellowed with age, the ink faded but still legible. 

Sarah watched as Damien's eyes scanned the lines, his expression darkening with each word he read. The story of Elena Wentworth unfolded before them, a tragic tale of love, betrayal, and a family torn apart by scandal.

"Her death was not an accident," he murmured, his voice tight with anger. "It was a cover-up."

Sarah's eyes widened in shock as Damien laid out the contents of the diaries before her. The story was a twisted web of love and deceit, painted in stark contrast to the stoic faces of the Wentworth men they had met.

 Elena had been in a relationship with the son of an underworld mafia, Carlo Moretti. At her late teen she was in cloud nine with her first love but that love was short lived as Carlo Moretti turned to be a beast in human form. He used to torture her physically and mentally. The torture was stretched until Elena died mercilessly. 

Watching Elena die untimely, Wentworth family filed case to find find the murderer but shortly Charles Wentworth withdrew the case. His sons were not happy with his decision but Charles kept to himself of what the consequences his family could face if he kept pushing to bring justice to his daughter. 

The Moretti's had threatened him with his remaining families life if he made any wrong move. They did not leave dead Elena too. They had many hideous videos of Elena Wentworth which could not shown a daylight.

Suppressing himself and bearing his own son wrath Charles Wentworth lived all his life collecting evidence against Romano Moretti and his son Carlo Moretti. But his evidence were never complete without his hands on the hideous videos of his daughter Elena.

In his vault lied all the evidences he collected throughout is life but could not be proceeded until the very end of Charles life. All he wanted in his lifetime was to avenge Moretti and reconcile with his sons but that was not possible in his lifetime.

As they stood in the study, the walls seemingly closing in on them, Sarah couldn't hold back her tears. The pain and suffering Elena had endured at the hands of the man she loved, and the subsequent silence her own family had maintained, was too much to bear. 

Damien handed her his handkerchief, his own eyes glistening with the weight of the revelation. Sarah's sobs grew louder, the weight of the revelation too much to bear. She sank into the armchair, her body convulsing with grief. 

"We need to call the three of them," Damien said, his voice low. "They need to know."

Sarah nodded, wiping her eyes. Together, they composed themselves and made the calls, each one more difficult than the last. 

Damien's voice was calm but firm as he explained the hidden chamber, the diaries, and the truth about Elena's death. 

Sarah watched him, her heart racing as she waited for the response.

The first son's reaction was one of shock and anger, his voice rising in disbelief. The second son was quieter, his breath hitching as the truth sank in. The third son, the one who had been so cold at the office, was silent for a long moment before speaking in a choked whisper, "What do we do now?"

Damien's voice was firm as he spoke to the third son. "The diaries are here, detailing her ordeal. Your father had been collecting evidence, trying to get justice for Elena. We need you to come home."

The line was silent for a moment before the second son spoke up, his voice thick with regret.

 "We'll be there as soon as we can," he said, his words heavy with the weight of their shared past.

Sarah felt a lump in her throat as she watched the diaries and key on the table, symbols of the pain and secrets that had haunted this family for so long. Damien's hand was warm and steady on her back, a silent promise of support in the face of the storm to come.