Chapter 4 - The Secret My Mother Buried
We escaped through a maintenance hatch that opened into an abandoned warehouse.
Dante’s team met us there.
Victor was gone.
The flash drive was intact.
So was the ledger.
But I couldn't stop thinking about one phrase.
The child.
And my mother.
Evelyn Reed had died six years before Thomas.
Heart failure.
At least, that's what the doctors said.
She had been the quiet center of our family.
Kind.
Protective.
Always nervous when Thomas worked late.
I had never imagined she could be connected to organized crime.
Back at Dante’s penthouse, we decrypted the flash drive.
Most of the files were encrypted.
One folder wasn't.
It contained a photograph.
My mother's photograph.
She was standing beside Dante's father.
And behind them stood Victor Hale.
The date was twenty-seven years old.
I stared at it.
“That was before I was born.”
Dante nodded.
“What were they doing?”
“Building something.”
“What?”
“A network.”
“Money?”
“Money, influence, information.”
He clicked another file.
A document appeared.
My mother's name.
Dante’s father's name.
Victor Hale's name.
And another name.
Margaret Bell.
I knew her.
My mother's closest friend.
The woman who had raised me after my parents died.
The woman who had been like an aunt to me.
“She knew,” I whispered.
“Apparently.”
I opened another file.
A birth certificate appeared.
My name.
Sofia Evelyn Reed.
The father's name was blank.
I stopped breathing.
“There was no father listed.”
Dante stared at the document.
Then at me.
“Why would your mother hide your father?”
“I don't know.”
He continued scrolling.
Then another file appeared.
A photograph of a newborn baby.
My name was written beneath it.
Sofia.
Date of birth.
The same date.
But beside it was another name.
Isabella Moretti.
I looked at Dante.
“What is that?”
His face had gone pale.
“My sister.”
“But you don't have a sister.”
“I had a sister.”
I stared.
“She died as a baby.”
“That's what you were told.”
Dante said nothing.
“Dante.”
He closed the laptop.
“I need to confirm something.”
“Confirm what?”
“You may not be who you think you are.”
The words should have terrified me.
Instead, I felt strangely numb.
For my entire life, I had believed my history was simple.
My mother.
My brother.
A quiet childhood.
A family that died one piece at a time.
But now every memory had shadows.
My mother crying one night when she thought I was asleep.
Thomas telling me never to open the locked drawer in the hallway.
Margaret becoming angry whenever anyone mentioned the Moretti family.
And Dante.
The man I'd spent months writing about in a diary.
The man I had accused of murdering my brother.
The man now sitting across from me with the look of someone seeing his own past in my face.
“I need a DNA test,” he said.
I looked at him.
“Why?”
He didn't answer.
“Dante.”
He swallowed.
“Because I think our families were connected before either of us were born.”
“Connected how?”
“I think your mother made a deal with my father.”
“What kind of deal?”
“A child.”
Silence.
My pulse became a roar.
“No.”
“I hope I'm wrong.”
“You think I'm your sister?”
“I don't know.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
I stood.
“You're saying my mother gave me away?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Dante opened an old file.
Inside was a hospital record.
Two babies had been born within minutes of each other.
One was recorded as Isabella Moretti.
One was recorded as Sofia Reed.
Same hospital.
Same doctor.
Same date.
The physician had died twenty-five years ago.
But the nurse who signed the records was still alive.
Her name was Margaret Bell.
My mother's best friend.
I sank into the chair.
“Margaret knew.”
Dante nodded.
“She knew everything.”
Suddenly my phone rang.
Margaret.
I stared at the screen.
Dante reached for it.
“Don't answer.”
I answered.
“Aunt Margaret?”
Silence.
Then her voice.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
I knew immediately.
She was crying.
“You found it.”
My heart broke.
“You knew?”
“I tried to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From your father.”
I went still.
“What father?”
There was a long pause.
Then she said:
“His name is Victor Hale.”
The line went dead.
I looked at Dante.
He had heard everything.
“What now?” I whispered.
Dante stood.
“Now we find Margaret.”
“And then?”
“Then we find Victor.”
“And if Victor is my father?”
Dante looked at me.
“Then we find out why he killed your brother.”
The penthouse door opened.
One of Dante’s men entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found Margaret Bell.”
My heart jumped.
“Where?”
May you like
The man's expression was grim.
“She went to Victor Hale.”
