Chapter 2 - The Daughter My Mother BuriedAmber did not sleep that night.
Neither did Vincent.
She sat across from him at the kitchen table while rain streaked the windows.
She placed the photographs between them.
“Start talking.”
Vincent looked at the photograph of Rose.
“How much did your mother tell you about your childhood?”
“Nothing unusual.”
“Who raised you?”
“My mother.”
“And your father?”
Amber swallowed.
“Dead before I was born.”
“What was his name?”
“Thomas Reed.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“Thomas Reed wasn't your father.”
Amber's face went numb.
“What?”
“Your mother's husband wasn't your biological father.”
“Then who was?”
Vincent said nothing.
Amber stood.
“I'm asking you a question.”
“I know.”
“Who was my father?”
Vincent looked at her.
“I don't know.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You don't know.”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I know enough.”
“That's not an answer.”
Vincent looked exhausted.
“I was twenty years old when I met your mother.”
“You were that young?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“At a private clinic.”
“Why?”
“My father had been shot.”
Amber slowly sat again.
Vincent continued.
“Rose worked there.”
“She was a nurse.”
“Yes.”
“She saved him?”
“No.”
Vincent shook his head.
“She saved me.”
He told Amber that twenty years ago, the Marino family had been at war with another criminal organization.
Vincent had refused to participate in a killing.
His father had considered that weakness.
Rose had found him wounded.
She had hidden him.
Kept him alive.
And then everything changed.
“You fell in love with her?”
Vincent nodded.
Amber's throat tightened.
“My mother was married.”
“Technically.”
“What does that mean?”
“Thomas Reed was a man your grandfather forced Rose to marry.”
“My grandfather?”
Vincent nodded.
“Your mother's father was involved with my family.”
Amber stared.
“What kind of involvement?”
“Business.”
“Legal?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Vincent then told her that Rose had become pregnant.
Not with Thomas.
With another man.
A man named Gabriel Marino.
Vincent's older brother.
Amber froze.
“Gabriel was your father.”
“He was.”
“Was?”
“Gabriel died before you were born.”
“How?”
“Murdered.”
Amber felt sick.
“Who killed him?”
Vincent looked away.
“My father.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“My father killed his own son?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel wanted to leave the family.”
Vincent's voice cracked.
“He loved your mother.”
Amber stared at him.
“You're telling me I'm the daughter of a Mafia family?”
“Yes.”
“My mother knew?”
“Yes.”
“Did Thomas know?”
“Yes.”
“Did he raise me anyway?”
“Yes.”
A million pieces of her childhood rearranged themselves.
Thomas had been distant.
Never cruel.
Never affectionate.
But he had treated Amber differently from Rose.
She had always assumed grief.
Now she wondered whether he had known.
“Where is my sister?”
Vincent hesitated.
Amber's blood ran cold.
“You said I had a sister.”
“I did.”
“Where is she?”
“She disappeared twenty years ago.”
Amber slammed her palm against the table.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I was.”
“What happened?”
Vincent told her.
Rose gave birth to twins.
Amber and another girl.
The family knew Gabriel had fathered both children.
The second child was supposed to be taken away.
Rose refused.
She fled.
Someone found her.
There was an accident.
One baby vanished.
The other was left behind.
Amber had been that baby.
Her sister was gone.
“What was her name?”
Vincent whispered it.
“Lily.”
Amber closed her eyes.
Lily.
The name struck something deep.
Her mother had owned a necklace with a tiny silver flower.
When Amber was little, Rose had told her it represented someone she loved.
“Where did Lily go?”
“We don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“No.”
“Then why did you say I had a sister?”
“Because I found evidence six months ago that she survived.”
Amber stared at him.
“What evidence?”
Vincent reached beneath the blanket.
He pulled out a folded photograph.
A woman around twenty years old stood outside a church.
Amber stared.
Same eyes.
Same jaw.
Same small birthmark beneath her left ear.
Her sister.
Alive.
But Vincent wasn't done.
“She doesn't know she's your sister.”
“Why?”
“Because she was raised under another name.”
“What name?”
Vincent looked toward the window.
“Claire Donovan.”
Amber's blood went cold.
She knew that name.
Everyone in her county did.
Claire Donovan was the daughter of the Whitakers.
Her ex-husband Dean's younger sister.
Amber stared at Vincent.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“My husband's family?”
“Your ex-husband's family.”
Amber stood.
“Dean knew?”
Vincent didn't answer.
“Did Dean know?”
“I don't know.”
Amber grabbed her phone.
She called Dean.
He answered on the third ring.
“Amber?”
“Did you know?”
Silence.
Then:
“Know what?”
“My sister.”
Silence again.
Dean's breathing changed.
Amber closed her eyes.
“You knew.”
“I didn't know she was your sister.”
“You knew Claire wasn't really a Whitaker.”
“Amber—”
“Was she adopted?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
He whispered:
“My mother told me never to ask questions.”
Amber felt something inside her break.
“You married me while knowing your sister had a secret?”
“I didn't know it was this.”
“Why did your family leave me?”
Dean was silent.
Then he said something that stunned her.
“My mother found out you were Gabriel Marino's daughter.”
Amber froze.
“And she was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of your family.”
Amber ended the call.
Vincent stared at her.
“This is bigger than me.”
“No.”
Amber looked down at the photograph.
“It's my life.”
Vincent nodded.
“Yes.”
The next morning, Daniel Marino returned.
He brought a lawyer.
And one more photograph.
Rose and Gabriel.
Standing beside the two newborn girls.
On the back:
If anything happens to us, keep the children apart.
Amber read it.
“Why?”
Daniel looked at her.
“Because one of them was promised to someone.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
Amber's heart began racing.
“Who was my sister promised to?”
Daniel finally said:
“The Whitaker family.”
Amber whispered:
“Why?”
May you like
Daniel looked her directly in the eyes.
“Because your grandfather had made a deal.”
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