Chapter 2
For several seconds, I forgot my knees hurt.
Forgot the cuts.
Forgot Vanessa.
Forgot everything except Luca.
My twin brother.
The words did not fit him.
He looked thirty-nine.
I was twenty-nine.
Then my brain caught up.
No.
Impossible.
I looked at Dr. Mercer.
“You said twins.”
“Yes.”
“He’s thirty-nine.”
The doctor froze.
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
Exactly.
Ten-year difference.
The room shifted again.
Dr. Mercer closed his eyes.
“I misspoke.”
Luca’s voice went cold.
“No.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
I stared.
“Then I am not Baby B.”
Dr. Mercer looked at me.
“You are.”
“How can I be his twin?”
“You aren’t.”
Silence.
Luca stepped closer.
“Then whose twin is she?”
Dr. Mercer swallowed.
“Your sister Sofia’s.”
Luca stopped breathing.
“What?”
I stared.
No.
Luca’s younger sister Sofia Moretti had died at age twenty-nine in a boating accident two years ago.
I had seen photographs.
Dark hair.
Blue eyes.
Elegant.
Nothing like me.
Or maybe something.
Luca’s voice hardened.
“My sister was ten years younger than me.”
“Yes.”
“And Claire is the same age.”
“Yes.”
“So Baby A and Baby B were Sofia and Claire.”
Dr. Mercer nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then why does Baby A bracelet have my birth date?”
Silence.
The doctor looked toward the floor.
“Because Antonio reused the bracelet.”
Luca stared.
“What?”
“When you were born, St. Catherine’s used numbered infant bands.”
“So?”
“Your mother kept yours.”
“Then ten years later?”
“Antonio brought it back.”
“Why?”
“To make one twin appear to be born under the earlier Moretti record.”
I felt sick.
“That makes no sense.”
Dr. Mercer continued.
“Antonio wanted Baby A legally connected to your existing family trust line before a trust amendment closed.”
Luca laughed.
“He made my sister legally ten years older?”
“On some private trust records.”
“Yes.”
“This family needs less money.”
No one disagreed.
I looked at the hospital bracelet.
MORETTI — BABY A.
His original band.
Reused for Sofia.
A symbolic key.
Then Vanessa found it.
“What happened to Baby B?”
I asked.
Dr. Mercer met my eyes.
“You.”
“Yes.”
“Why was I sent away?”
He hesitated.
Luca stared.
“Stop.”
The doctor nodded.
“Because Antonio only needed one daughter recorded.”
“Why one?”
“The trust.”
Again.
“What trust?”
“Lucia Moretti Family Trust.”
The grandmother.
Forty percent.
But Luca had already inherited through his generation.
I frowned.
“Explain.”
Dr. Mercer sat.
He looked exhausted.
“Lucia Moretti created two separate trusts.”
“One for Luca’s generation.”
“One for future granddaughters.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“Why granddaughters?”
“Because she believed the men in the family were destroying everything.”
I almost smiled.
Reasonable.
Dr. Mercer continued.
“The second trust controlled a private hospital foundation and several properties.”
“Value?”
“Approximately one hundred twenty million.”
Of course.
“And twins?”
“If twin granddaughters were born, control had to be shared.”
“So Antonio wanted one recorded.”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“Sofia.”
“Why her?”
“First born.”
Silence.
I stared.
“She was older by minutes.”
“Yes.”
“And I was sent to my mother.”
“Margaret Mason.”
“Yes.”
“Why her?”
“She was a nurse at St. Catherine’s.”
My chest tightened.
My mother had always said she worked hospital administration before I was born.
Close.
“Did she know who I was?”
“Yes.”
“Did she choose me?”
Dr. Mercer’s face softened.
“Yes.”
Immediate.
Good.
“How?”
“Your birth mother asked her.”
Silence.
My throat tightened.
“Who was my birth mother?”
Luca froze too.
Dr. Mercer looked at him.
“Not your mother.”
Good.
For one second, I had feared something impossible again.
Then:
“Your father’s second wife.”
Luca’s face went blank.
“My father remarried?”
“Privately.”
“After Mom?”
“No.”
Silence.
Oh.
Antonio Moretti had a second relationship while still married.
“Name.”
“Helena Rossi.”
Luca’s face changed.
He knew it.
“What?”
I asked.
He stared at the wall.
“She was my mother’s closest friend.”
Of course.
Nothing simple.
Dr. Mercer continued:
“Helena became pregnant with twins.”
“By Antonio.”
“Yes.”
“That makes me Luca’s half sister.”
“Yes.”
There it was.
Not twin.
Half sister.
Same father.
Ten years younger.
And Sofia?
Also half sister.
Luca looked like someone had removed the floor.
“My father had two daughters with my mother’s best friend.”
“Yes.”
“And raised one as my full sister.”
Silence.
“Mom believed Sofia was hers?”
Dr. Mercer’s face tightened.
“No.”
Luca went still.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why would she raise Antonio’s affair child?”
“Because Helena died.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“During delivery.”
Silence.
I stared.
“My mother died giving birth.”
“Yes.”
“And Lucia Moretti…”
“Raised Sofia.”
“Yes.”
“But not me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Dr. Mercer looked ashamed.
“Antonio would not allow both girls in the house.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“My father again.”
“Yes.”
“Did my mother want Claire?”
“Yes.”
“Why couldn’t she take her?”
“Antonio threatened divorce and custody.”
Silence.
Luca laughed bitterly.
“So Mom chose Sofia because she could save one.”
“That is what she believed.”
I looked down.
One saved.
One sent away.
But Margaret Mason had chosen me.
That mattered.
I tried to breathe.
“So Sofia was my twin sister.”
“Yes.”
“She died two years ago.”
Dr. Mercer said nothing.
I looked up.
“No.”
He closed his eyes.
Luca saw.
“What?”
No answer.
His voice sharpened.
“What?”
Dr. Mercer whispered:
“Sofia is alive.”
Silence.
Luca went pale.
“No.”
“She survived the boating accident.”
“No.”
“Your father—”
“My father was dead by then.”
“Yes.”
“Then who hid her?”
Dr. Mercer looked toward the door.
“Vanessa.”
The room froze.
I stared.
“Vanessa hid Sofia.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Sofia found the second trust.”
Luca’s expression became ice.
“Vanessa knew my sister was alive.”
“Yes.”
“For two years.”
“Yes.”
“And six months ago she came looking for Baby B.”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“She was looking for me.”
Dr. Mercer nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the trust requires both twins to activate.”
Silence.
The hundred-twenty-million-dollar trust.
Sofia and me.
Both needed.
Luca stared at the doctor.
“Where is Sofia?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just said Vanessa hid her.”
“She used a private clinic.”
“Which?”
“I never knew.”
“Then how do you know she survived?”
“Because I treated her after the accident.”
Silence.
“You treated my sister.”
“Yes.”
“Then handed her to Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said she was moving her for safety.”
Luca laughed once.
“People love that word.”
I did too, apparently.
Dr. Mercer continued.
“Sofia had a head injury.”
“Memory loss?”
“Partial.”
My chest tightened.
“Does she know who she is?”
“Maybe.”
“What does Vanessa want from her?”
“The trust.”
Of course.
Then Marco rushed in.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We found a second item from Vanessa’s purse.”
He held a photograph.
A woman.
Dark hair.
Scar near left temple.
Standing beside Vanessa at a private clinic.
I stared.
She looked like me.
More than Sofia’s old photographs did.
Maybe because we were twins.
Luca stopped breathing.
“Sofia.”
On the back:
CLAIRE MUST NEVER SEE HER BEFORE THE WEDDING.
My skin went cold.
Luca looked at me.
Then at Marco.
“Where was this taken?”
Marco checked.
“Clinic logo in the corner.”
“Name?”
“St. Catherine’s Recovery Center.”
The same institution.
Of course.
“Location?”
“Connecticut.”
Luca stood.
“We go now.”
Dr. Hayes appeared again.
“No.”
I almost laughed.
“You have terrible timing.”
“I have excellent timing.”
He pointed at my knees.
“You are not getting into a car for two hours.”
Luca looked at me.
Your choice.
I already knew.
“I’m going.”
Dr. Hayes sighed.
“Of course you are.”
Then Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
Went pale.
“What?”
Luca asked.
“St. Catherine’s Recovery Center.”
“What about it?”
“Fire alarm.”
My stomach dropped.
“Evacuated?”
“Yes.”
“Sofia?”
Marco stared.
The revelation that Sofia was alive hit Luca differently from everything else.
He sat down for the first time.
Not because anyone told him.
Because his legs seemed to stop cooperating.
I recognized it.
He stared at the old photograph.
“My sister was twenty-seven when she died.”
“Was presumed dead,” I corrected quietly.
He nodded.
“Presumed.”
“What was she like?”
He looked at me.
“Difficult.”
I almost smiled.
“Good start.”
“She stole my car at sixteen.”
“That is difficult.”
“She brought it back with a full tank.”
“Responsible criminal.”
His mouth moved.
“She hated formal dinners.”
“Same.”
“She loved thunderstorms.”
“Same.”
He stared at me then.
Maybe looking for Sofia.
Maybe Helena.
Maybe himself.
I looked away.
“I don’t know her.”
“No.”
“And you don’t know me.”
“No.”
“Good.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Good?”
“I don’t want blood turning us into people who pretend closeness.”
His expression softened.
“Agreed.”
That made the next part easier.
When Dr. Mercer said the clinic may have kept Sofia under sedation after the accident, Luca did not say, I should have known.
He started to.
Stopped.
Then said:
“They should not have had the right.”
Better.
Blame pointed outward.
Where it belonged.
Marco later brought Sofia’s old missing-person file.
Luca had spent eighteen months searching after the boating accident.
Private divers.
Coast Guard.
Reward.
No body.
Eventually court declared death.
Vanessa had attended the memorial.
My stomach turned.
“She stood beside you.”
“Yes.”
“And knew.”
His face hardened.
“Apparently.”
That was a betrayal beyond money.
I understood why he looked cold now.
Sometimes cold was what grief wore when it came back angry.
May you like
“Missing.”
And Vanessa Bellini had disappeared from the west sitting room at the exact same time.
