Chapter 2
Luca read the letter four times.
Not because the words were difficult.
Because every sentence rewrote someone he thought he knew.
His mother.
Lucia Moretti Bellini.
Vanessa.
Matteo.
Rosa Alvarez.
And somehow me.
He looked at Vanessa.
“My mother was Bellini.”
She wiped her face.
“By birth.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She was my aunt.”
Silence.
I stared at Vanessa.
Luca did too.
“My mother was your aunt.”
“Yes.”
“That makes you my cousin.”
“Second cousin.”
He laughed without humor.
“I appreciate the technical correction.”
She closed her eyes.
“I wanted to tell you.”
“When?”
No answer.
“Before the wedding?”
Silence.
“After?”
Nothing.
Luca’s voice became cold.
“You were going to marry me without telling me we were related.”
“Second cousins.”
Marco looked away.
Even he could not save that sentence.
Vanessa rushed:
“We are not closely related legally.”
“That is not the point.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He held up the letter.
“Why did my mother hide the Bellini name?”
Vanessa looked toward the suitcase.
“Ask Rosa.”
“Rosa is in the hospital.”
“Then wait.”
“No.”
He looked at Marco.
“Hospital secure?”
“Yes.”
“Car.”
Dr. Hayes appeared from the side corridor before Luca could move.
“No.”
Luca looked at him.
“What?”
He pointed at me.
“She is not going anywhere.”
I sighed.
“Nobody asked me.”
“I’m preempting you.”
Fair.
My right arm had been cleaned.
Cuts superficial.
Face cuts too.
No stitches near the eye.
Good.
Still painful.
Luca looked at me.
“Stay here.”
I shook my head.
“Nora.”
“Mrs. Alvarez asked for me.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going.”
“You’re injured.”
“I can sit in a car.”
Dr. Hayes crossed his arms.
“I dislike both of you.”
Luca almost smiled.
Then looked at me.
“Your choice.”
Good.
“I’m going.”
We left twenty minutes later.
Vanessa came too.
Luca did not invite her.
She got into the second car.
Marco looked at him.
He allowed it.
Maybe because she knew too much.
Maybe because he did not want her out of sight.
At St. Vincent’s, Rosa Alvarez looked smaller than she did in the garden.
Seventy-three.
Gray hair.
Brown skin.
Strong hands.
Oxygen tube.
She smiled when I entered.
“Nora.”
I moved closer.
“You scared me.”
“Good.”
I stared.
She smiled faintly.
“You young people only listen when frightened.”
Luca almost laughed.
Vanessa did not.
Rosa looked at her.
Her smile disappeared.
“Vanessa.”
“Mrs. Alvarez.”
“You came back.”
Silence.
Luca sat beside the bed.
“Rosa.”
She looked at him.
“Little Luca.”
His face softened.
No one called him that.
She had probably changed his diapers.
“What happened?”
“To my heart?”
“Yes.”
“Old age.”
“Did anyone hurt you?”
Rosa glanced at Vanessa.
“No.”
Good.
One danger removed.
Luca held the letter.
“My mother wrote this.”
“Yes.”
“For Nora.”
“Yes.”
“She died before Nora worked for me.”
“Yes.”
“How did she know Nora?”
Rosa looked at me.
“Your mother.”
My stomach tightened.
“My mother?”
“Mary Williams.”
“Yes.”
“She worked for Lucia.”
No.
“My mother was a school cook.”
“After.”
Everyone in these houses apparently had a secret first career.
“What did she do before?”
“Housekeeping.”
“At the Moretti estate?”
“No.”
Rosa looked at Vanessa.
“At the Bellini house in Chicago.”
Silence.
I stared.
“My mother worked for Vanessa’s family.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She left.”
“Why?”
“Because she saw something.”
My body went cold.
“What?”
Rosa looked toward Luca.
“Matteo.”
His face changed.
“What about my brother?”
Rosa exhaled.
“Matteo did not steal cargo.”
Vanessa looked down.
Luca leaned closer.
“Then what happened?”
“He found it.”
“What?”
“People.”
Silence.
Marco’s face hardened.
“What people?”
Rosa swallowed.
“Workers being moved through Moretti freight under false employment records.”
My stomach turned.
“Trafficking?” I whispered.
Rosa shook her head.
“Sometimes labor exploitation. Sometimes witnesses hiding. Sometimes criminals escaping.”
Nothing clean.
“Who ran it?”
Luca asked.
Rosa looked at Vanessa.
“Her father.”
Vanessa froze.
“Robert Bellini?”
“Yes.”
Luca’s face hardened.
“And my father?”
“Antonio found out later.”
“Did he stop it?”
“No.”
Silence.
Of course not.
“What did he do?”
“He took control.”
Luca closed his eyes.
Rosa continued:
“Matteo found the records.”
“And threatened to expose them.”
“Yes.”
“So Antonio accused him of theft.”
“Yes.”
“To silence him.”
“Yes.”
Vanessa started crying.
“I didn’t know.”
Rosa looked at her.
“You knew enough.”
Vanessa flinched.
Fair.
Rosa continued:
“Antonio paid Vanessa to leave because Matteo wanted to run with her.”
“Run where?”
“Canada.”
“Why?”
“To protect the baby.”
Luca looked at Vanessa.
“You told me the baby died.”
“She did.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
“No.”
The room stopped.
Vanessa stared.
“What?”
“Lucia did not die.”
“Mrs. Alvarez.”
“She did not.”
Vanessa’s face went white.
“You weren’t there.”
“I was.”
Silence.
Luca stopped breathing.
“Rosa.”
She looked at him.
“Your mother took the baby.”
No one moved.
“Why?”
“Because Antonio wanted the child.”
“Why?”
“Bellini and Moretti blood.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
Every family secret eventually became inheritance.
Rosa continued:
“Vanessa’s daughter connected both branches.”
“What for?”
“Chicago trust.”
Luca looked at Vanessa.
“What trust?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Rosa said:
“You do.”
Vanessa cried harder.
“Not then.”
“But now.”
Silence.
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“You know now.”
Vanessa looked trapped.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“A private holding trust.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“Maybe eighty million.”
Luca laughed once.
“There it is.”
Rosa continued:
“Lucia Moretti took the baby before Antonio could.”
“My mother kidnapped Vanessa’s child?”
“No.”
Vanessa whispered:
“I asked her.”
Silence.
Luca turned.
“You knew she survived.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No.”
“I asked Lucia to take her because Antonio threatened Matteo.”
“But you were told the child died.”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
“My father.”
Robert Bellini.
Again.
“What did he say?”
“That Lucia had complications.”
“She was a baby.”
“He said infection.”
Rosa shook her head.
“Lie.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
My throat tightened.
“Where is the child now?”
Rosa looked at Luca.
“New York.”
Silence.
“Name.”
Rosa’s eyes moved to me.
No.
My skin went cold.
She whispered:
“Nora.”
The room disappeared.
I laughed nervously.
“No.”
Vanessa stared at me.
Her entire face changed.
Rosa continued:
“Mary Williams raised her.”
My mother.
Not biological.
My knees weakened.
Luca caught the back of the chair before I fell into it.
He did not touch me.
Just made sure the chair was there.
I sat.
“No.”
Rosa’s eyes filled.
“Your birth name was Lucia Bellini Moretti.”
Vanessa stopped breathing.
“My daughter.”
I looked at her.
No.
My body rejected it before my mind could.
“You’re twenty-eight,” Vanessa whispered.
“Yes.”
“My baby would be…”
She stopped.
Twenty-eight.
Timeline wrong?
Wait.
Luca’s brother Matteo and Vanessa’s photograph fourteen years ago.
I was twenty-eight.
Impossible.
I looked at Rosa.
“That makes no sense.”
“Good.”
Luca’s voice sharpened.
“Explain.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
“There were two Lucias.”
Silence.
I laughed once.
Of course.
“One was Vanessa’s daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And Nora?”
Rosa looked at me.
“Lucia’s daughter.”
“My mother?”
“Luca’s mother.”
Silence.
No.
Luca stopped breathing.
“What?”
Rosa began crying.
“Nora is your sister.”
The hospital room froze.
I stared at Luca.
He stared at me.
Not employer.
Not cousin.
Brother?
No.
Impossible.
Rosa continued quickly:
“Half sister.”
Luca’s face emptied.
“My father?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Henry Williams.”
My legal grandfather’s name.
I felt sick.
Luca’s mother Lucia had a daughter with Henry Williams.
Mary Williams raised me.
That would make Mary—
what?
Henry’s wife?
Rosa saw confusion.
“Henry and Mary were married.”
“Then my mother…”
“Mary could not have children.”
Silence.
“Lucia asked them to raise you.”
“Why?”
Rosa looked at Vanessa.
“Because Antonio would never allow Lucia’s daughter by another man to remain in the Moretti house.”
Luca’s face hardened.
“My father knew.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He wanted Nora adopted out permanently.”
“So Mom hid her.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the letter in my hand.
Lucia had known me.
Of course she had.
She was my biological mother.
The cuts on my face suddenly felt irrelevant.
Everything did.
Then Vanessa whispered:
“What about my daughter?”
Rosa looked toward the door.
“She is alive too.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
“Name?”
Rosa hesitated.
“Eva Alvarez.”
Silence.
Rosa’s surname.
Vanessa stared.
“You raised her.”
Rosa nodded.
“After Mary took Nora.”
The room shifted again.
Two hidden daughters.
Two substitute mothers.
Two families.
Luca looked at Rosa.
“Why tell us now?”
Rosa’s eyes filled.
“Because Antonio is dead.”
“He’s been dead nine years.”
“Yes.”
“And Robert?”
“Still alive.”
Vanessa went pale.
Rosa continued:
“And he found Eva last week.”
Silence.
Vanessa stopped breathing.
“My daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Where is she now?”
Rosa whispered:
“Missing.”
And the monitor beside her bed suddenly began beeping faster as Vanessa grabbed the bedrail.
Rosa looked at me after saying Mary was alive.
“You look angry.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
I stared.
“Why good?”
“Because for years everyone around you made fear look polite.”
That stopped me.
She continued:
“Anger at least tells the truth about what was taken.”
I looked toward Luca.
He heard.
Maybe needed it too.
Rosa reached toward my hand.
Stopped before touching.
“May I?”
I nodded.
She held my uninjured hand lightly.
“I am sorry for every year you spent believing the wrong grave.”
The words hurt more than I expected.
May you like
Her child had survived.
And someone had taken her again.
