Chapter 4 - The Child My Mother Hid From the Moretti Family
The next morning, I sat in Alessandro's office holding the photograph.
I couldn't stop staring at the baby.
My mother had never mentioned another child.
Not once.
I was twenty-two when she died.
She had spent years raising me alone.
She had been sick near the end, but even then, she had never spoken about a second daughter.
I felt betrayed.
Confused.
Angry.
Alessandro sat opposite me.
“What if she was protecting her?”
“Who?”
“The child.”
“From your family?”
“Possibly.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“My father had enemies.”
“So did my mother.”
He looked at me.
“You think she hid the child from my family.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because someone wanted her dead.”
The answer came too easily.
Maybe because both our families had secrets buried in the same years.
We went to the old Moretti train station.
It had been abandoned after a fire.
The number six-three opened a locker.
Inside was a small suitcase.
A cassette player.
Several letters.
And a hospital bracelet.
The name on it made me stop breathing.
LUCIA CARTER.
I stared.
“Carter.”
Alessandro looked at me.
“Your sister?”
I shook my head.
“I don't know.”
The letters were from my mother.
The first began:
If Claire ever finds this, tell her I am sorry.
I read every page.
My mother had given birth to another girl.
Lucia.
But Lucia wasn't Daniel's child.
She belonged to a Moretti.
My mother's affair with Alessandro's father had produced a child.
Lucia.
And that child had been hidden because Alessandro's father's wife wanted her dead.
I looked at Alessandro.
“She's your half-sister.”
He looked stunned.
“My father had a daughter he never knew existed.”
“He knew.”
“What?”
The letters proved it.
He had known.
He had tried to protect Lucia.
But he had failed.
My mother had taken the baby and vanished.
Then someone found them.
My mother arranged for Lucia to be raised under another name.
But before she could reveal everything, she died.
I held the hospital bracelet.
“Where is she?”
The last letter answered.
“Lucia is alive.”
I stopped.
Alessandro leaned closer.
“Where?”
I read the next line.
“She lives with the only person I trust.”
Then the page ended.
No name.
No location.
Just a symbol.
The same butterfly.
Alessandro stared at it.
“The room.”
“What?”
“The forbidden room.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because Elena was the only person who knew about Lucia.”
“Your daughter knew?”
“She discovered the letters.”
My heart tightened.
“How?”
“She used to hide in my father's office.”
Alessandro's face changed.
“She found something.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
“The baby?”
He nodded.
“And she told someone.”
“Who?”
“We never found out.”
I thought about the mural.
The butterflies.
Maybe Sophia hadn't simply painted them because she liked them.
Maybe something had triggered a memory.
A song.
A color.
A symbol.
I looked at her painting again.
Five new butterflies.
Five colors.
I suddenly understood.
“Alessandro.”
“Yes?”
“Where did Elena paint?”
“What?”
“Your daughter.”
He stared.
“She painted before she died.”
“Did she use those colors?”
He thought.
“Yes.”
“Every time?”
“Yes.”
I counted.
Orange.
Blue.
Yellow.
Violet.
Green.
Five colors.
I opened the old drawer in the train station suitcase.
Five colored ribbons were inside.
Each had a number.
The colors matched the butterflies.
A code.
We followed it.
The code led us to five locations across the city.
An old church.
A bookstore.
A laundromat.
A park bench.
A children's clinic.
At each location was another piece of the puzzle.
Elena had hidden everything before she died.
She had known her life was in danger.
She had left a trail.
The final clue led to a safe apartment in Queens.
The door opened.
A woman stood inside.
She looked at me.
And I knew.
Lucia.
She had my mother's eyes.
She had my jaw.
She even smiled the way my mother had.
I couldn't speak.
She whispered:
“Claire?”
I nodded.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You're my sister.”
We hugged.
Behind me, Alessandro stood frozen.
Lucia looked at him.
“And you.”
He swallowed.
“What?”
“You're my brother.”
He looked like he'd been shot.
Lucia stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Inside the apartment were photographs.
My mother.
Lucia.
Elena.
Three children.
One secret.
Lucia explained everything.
She had been hidden.
Elena had found her years earlier.
The girls had become secretly close.
Elena promised to tell Alessandro.
But before she could—
She was killed.
Lucia had spent six years hiding.
Why?
Because the men who killed Elena were still looking for her.
And now they had found us.
“How?” I asked.
Lucia pointed to Sophia.
“Because of her.”
My heart stopped.
“What does she have to do with it?”
Lucia sighed.
“Her father.”
I stared.
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
She took out another photograph.
Daniel.
Standing beside Giovanni Rizzi.
I felt sick.
“You knew him?”
Lucia nodded.
“He wasn't a random man.”
“What was he?”
“He was working for the people who wanted the Moretti inheritance.”
My heart cracked.
Daniel had lied.
Our entire relationship had been a lie.
He had not died in an accident.
He had been murdered.
Because he tried to leave the organization.
I stared at my daughter.
Sophia had inherited more than brown hair and a sweet smile.
She had inherited a blood connection to the people who had been fighting my family for generations.
Then Lucia said:
“Daniel wasn't Sophia's father.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He was her guardian.”
My mind stopped.
“Then who is her father?”
Lucia looked at Alessandro.
He stared back.
Then Lucia said:
“Matteo Moretti.”
I stopped breathing.
“That's impossible.”
“He was Alessandro's cousin.”
“He died before Sophia was born.”
“No.”
Lucia shook her head.
“He disappeared.”
My hands trembled.
“Sophia's father is alive?”
Lucia nodded.
“Or he was.”
Then someone fired through the apartment window.
Glass shattered.
Lucia screamed.
Alessandro pushed us down.
“Everybody move!”
The room erupted.
We ran through the back hallway.
Bullets struck the walls.
Alessandro's men returned fire.
We escaped through a hidden door.
Outside, we ran to the car.
I clutched Sophia.
She was crying.
Alessandro held her tightly.
We drove.
No one spoke.
Then Alessandro looked at me.
“We're bringing Lucia with us.”
I nodded.
“Why?”
“Because whoever is hunting her is hunting you now.”
I looked at Sophia.
“No.”
He corrected himself.
“Whoever is hunting her is hunting your daughter.”
My blood ran cold.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice said:
“Congratulations, Claire.”
I froze.
“You finally found your sister.”
“Who are you?”
“You already know me.”
The line went dead.
Alessandro looked at the phone.
“Who?”
May you like
I whispered:
“Daniel.”
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