Chapter 6 - The Secret My Mother Couldn’t RememberI went to Lakeshore immediately.
Lorenzo came with me.
I argued.
He ignored me.
Apparently we had both mastered the technique.
My mother sat beside a window folding the same napkin repeatedly.
She was fifty-six.
Too young.
That was the cruelest part.
Early-onset Alzheimer’s did not care that she should have had decades left.
Some mornings she knew me.
Some afternoons I was her sister.
Some days she thought she was twenty.
When I entered, she smiled.
“Mara.”
Relief nearly knocked me over.
“Hi, Mom.”
Then she saw Lorenzo.
The napkin fell.
Her face changed.
Not confusion.
Fear.
“No.”
I froze.
“Mom?”
She stood.
“No, no, no.”
Lorenzo stopped at the doorway.
He did not approach.
My mother backed toward the wall.
“Carlo said you were dead.”
My blood went cold.
Lorenzo’s face emptied.
“Mom.”
She looked at him.
“Salvatore?”
Lorenzo went still.
She thought he was his uncle.
“Mama, this is Lorenzo.”
Her eyes widened.
“Lorenzo?”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
She stared.
Then began crying.
“Oh God.”
I held her.
“What happened?”
My mother touched Lorenzo’s face.
He let her.
“You look like Evelyn.”
That destroyed him quietly.
He closed his eyes for half a second.
I asked, “You knew Evelyn Rossy?”
My mother looked at me.
Then forgot the question.
“Where’s your father?”
I swallowed.
“Not here.”
“He’ll be home soon.”
“No, Mom.”
I couldn’t do this.
Not today.
The photo lay on the nurses’ desk.
Evelyn Rossy held an infant wrapped in yellow.
Me.
My mother stood beside her.
Twenty-eight years younger.
On the back:
Mara – 3 weeks.
Keep her safe.
E.
Lorenzo stared.
“Your mother knew mine.”
“Yes.”
Gabriel arrived with records.
My mother’s maiden name:
Marianne Bell.
She had worked for Rossy Corporation.
Accounting department.
1994–1999.
I had never known.
She always told me she worked in insurance before marrying my father.
Another lie made for protection.
The pattern felt hereditary.
We checked personnel records.
Marianne Bell reported directly to Evelyn Rossy.
My mother had been one of her accountants.
That was why I had a photo.
That was why I had been selected.
Someone knew who I was because my mother had helped Evelyn.
Lorenzo looked at me.
“Your family was already part of this.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
My mother suddenly said, “Blue book.”
We turned.
“What?”
She stared at the napkin.
“Evelyn’s blue book.”
Lorenzo crouched.
“What blue book?”
“Names.”
My mother’s voice became frightened.
“Everyone.”
“Where?”
She looked toward me.
“Mara knows.”
I stared.
“I don’t.”
She touched my chest.
“Song.”
“What song?”
“Hush little baby.”
My skin prickled.
When I was a child, my mother sang a version of that lullaby with weird lyrics.
Not mockingbird.
Lake.
Stone.
Blue house.
Seven steps.
I had assumed she forgot the real words.
Lorenzo watched me.
“What?”
“My childhood lullaby.”
We wrote the words down.
By evening, Gabriel matched them to an address.
Blue House Tavern.
Closed fourteen years ago.
Near Lake Michigan.
Seven steps.
We went after dark.
In the basement, seven stone steps led to a bricked wall.
Behind it:
A waterproof box.
Inside:
A blue ledger.
Evelyn’s original record.
Every illegal account.
Every compromised official.
Every payoff.
Every death linked to the old Rossy network.
Enough evidence to send dozens of people to prison.
Maybe hundreds.
At the end was one page written later.
If Lorenzo finds this, he must choose.
Protect the empire.
Or end it.
—E.
I looked at him.
His face was unreadable.
“What are you thinking?”
“That my mother spent her life preparing me to destroy my inheritance.”
“Maybe she spent her life giving you a choice.”
He looked at me.
“Would you?”
“What?”
“Destroy everything your family built?”
“If it was built on people’s bodies?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
He laughed bitterly.
“You make things simple.”
“No.”
I touched the ledger.
“I make choices simple. Consequences are complicated.”
He stared at me.
Something shifted.
The room felt smaller.
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
I felt it.
Dangerous.
“Lorenzo.”
He stepped closer.
Then stopped.
“You work for me.”
“Yes.”
“You are living in my home because somebody threatened you.”
“Yes.”
“And your mother is dependent on a facility my company indirectly owns.”
I blinked.
“What?”
He looked annoyed.
“Not relevant.”
“It is extremely relevant.”
“I didn’t know until today.”
“Good.”
He continued.
“So anything between us would be compromised.”
My heart had begun behaving stupidly.
“Anything?”
His eyes met mine.
“That is not an invitation.”
“It sounded like one.”
“Mara.”
I smiled.
He did not.
“I’m trying very hard to be responsible.”
“Is that new for billionaires?”
“Apparently.”
I stepped back.
He was right.
I hated that.
The tension stayed.
But we did not cross it.
Not then.
Back at the penthouse, Gabriel called.
Andrea Mills had contacted him.
Finally.
She wanted to meet.
Alone.
No Lorenzo.
No security.
I refused the alone part.
We compromised.
I met Andrea inside a crowded public library.
Gabriel remained outside.
Andrea looked exhausted.
“Evelyn is alive.”
“I know.”
“She wants to see Lorenzo.”
“Where?”
“She won’t tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because Salvatore has people everywhere.”
“Does D’Amico work for him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Blackmail.”
Control.
Evelyn’s old list had said exactly that.
Andrea explained.
D’Amico’s father had been connected to multiple murders under Carlo Rossy.
Salvatore had evidence.
Alexander spent seventeen years keeping the system alive because if he refused, his father’s crimes would destroy his family.
“Does that excuse him?” I asked.
“No.”
Good.
“What about Gabriel’s father?”
Andrea looked down.
“Thomas helped Evelyn.”
Gabriel’s father had changed sides.
That was why “resolved” meant dead.
Salvatore had him killed.
“Where is Salvatore?”
Andrea looked at me.
“Rossy Tower.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He never left.”
Impossible.
“He has an office there?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“The floor under the executive garage.”
Another hidden level.
Of course.
“The building was designed with private residences and command spaces.”
“Command spaces?”
“Your company’s headquarters was built as a fortress.”
My stomach turned.
Salvatore had been hiding inside Lorenzo’s own building.
Not physically every day.
But using it.
Accessing systems.
Watching.
The monster under the bed had never left the house.
Andrea continued.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“She looked afraid.
“Salvatore didn’t kill Carlo because Carlo wanted to expose the network.”
“Then why?”
“Carlo discovered Salvatore was Lorenzo’s biological father.”
I stared.
No.
“Repeat that.”
“Lorenzo’s mother had an affair with Salvatore before marrying Carlo.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It gets worse.”
Naturally.
Andrea swallowed.
“Carlo knew.”
“And raised Lorenzo anyway?”
“Yes.”
I thought of all the twisted family loyalty.
The old empire.
Power.
Bloodlines.
“Did Lorenzo know?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
This was not my secret to tell.
But Salvatore would use it.
I knew he would.
Then Andrea grabbed my hand.
“He wants Lorenzo alive.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants an heir.”
My stomach dropped.
“All of this?”
“To force Lorenzo back into the old organization.”
Yes.
The microphones.
The sabotage.
The fear.
Keep Lorenzo isolated.
Keep good employees away.
Make him believe the only people he could trust were inherited loyalists.
Build dependence.
Control him the way his father controlled everyone else.
Except Lorenzo kept resisting.
Then I arrived.
Apparently inconveniently.
Andrea looked at me.
“You changed him.”
“I have known him two weeks.”
“Exactly.”
“That sounds unhealthy.”
She almost smiled.
“Salvatore noticed.”
“What does he want with me?”
“You removed Lorenzo’s isolation.”
I swallowed.
“So?”
“So now you’re leverage.”
My phone buzzed.
Lorenzo.
I answered.
His voice was wrong.
“Mara.”
“What happened?”
“Come home.”
“What happened?”
Silence.
Then:
“Your mother is gone.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?”
“Someone removed her from Lakeshore twenty minutes ago.”
I stood so quickly the chair fell.
“Who?”
Lorenzo’s voice turned cold enough to freeze blood.
May you like
“My uncle.”
And just like that, the investigation became a war.
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