Chapter 3 - My Mother Had Been Lying for Twenty-Four Years
The first thing Luca Moretti did after the shooting stopped was lock me inside an armored SUV.
The second was take away my phone.
"You can't do this!"
"I can."
"That's kidnapping."
"Call the police."
"You took my phone!"
He looked at me.
I hated him instantly.
Noah sat strapped into a car seat beside me, perfectly calm now that my hand rested near his.
Outside, Moretti men surrounded the restaurant.
Two attackers were dead.
One had escaped.
The fourth was alive.
Barely.
Luca climbed into the vehicle.
"Drive."
"Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere safe."
"My mother is alone."
"No."
I froze.
"What?"
"She's gone."
I lunged toward him.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing."
"Where is she?"
"My men reached your apartment four minutes ago."
He handed me a phone.
Security footage filled the screen.
My mother walked from our building carrying one suitcase.
Timestamp: 8:41 p.m.
Twelve minutes before she'd called me.
A black sedan waited outside.
She climbed inside voluntarily.
I watched twice.
Then a third time.
"Who was driving?"
"We don't know."
"Find her."
"I intend to."
His voice contained no kindness.
Only purpose.
The SUV entered a gated estate forty minutes later.
The mansion beyond it looked like something built for royalty.
I refused to get out.
Luca opened my door.
"Mara."
"I'm not going inside."
"You were targeted tonight."
"Because of you."
"No."
"Men shot up your restaurant."
"They ignored me."
I stopped.
"They ignored my son."
His eyes held mine.
"They shouted for you."
That shut me up.
Inside, Luca's men collected my bag, shoes, even my apron.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking everything."
"For what?"
"Tracking devices."
I laughed nervously.
"Nobody tracks waitresses."
Marco looked at me.
"Tonight four armed men tried to abduct one."
Noah started fussing when a nanny approached.
The woman held out her arms.
He screamed.
Then he reached for me.
Everyone stared.
"Seriously?" I whispered.
Luca's expression was unreadable.
"Give him to Mara."
The nanny looked astonished.
I held Noah.
He immediately rested his head against me.
Luca watched.
That was becoming unbearable.
"Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm a ghost."
His jaw tightened.
"You look exactly like one."
He led me upstairs.
We entered a bedroom.
I stopped in the doorway.
Photographs covered one wall.
Elena.
Elena pregnant.
Elena laughing.
Elena beside Luca.
Elena holding newborn Noah.
My knees almost gave out.
I walked closer.
She wasn't merely similar.
She was almost identical.
Except older.
A scar crossed her left eyebrow.
I touched my own eyebrow.
No scar.
"She really had a twin?"
Luca stood behind me.
"Apparently."
"You didn't know?"
"No."
"How can you marry someone and not know she has a twin?"
"Elena didn't talk about her childhood."
"Neither does my mother."
That realization made my stomach twist.
Luca opened a drawer.
Inside was a photograph.
Two little girls.
Maybe six years old.
Identical.
On the back someone had written:
Elena & Caterina — Palermo, 1986.
Caterina.
Catherine.
I sat down.
"No."
Luca crouched in front of me.
"Your mother is Elena's twin."
"You don't know that."
"Her age matches."
"Lots of women are forty-six."
"Her name matches."
"Names aren't proof."
"Your face is proof."
"Faces aren't DNA."
He stared at me.
"Then we'll do DNA."
I laughed once.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because this is insane!"
Noah stirred.
I lowered my voice.
"My mother sells handmade jewelry online. She watches cooking shows. She cries when dogs die in movies. She is not part of some mafia conspiracy."
Luca said nothing.
"Tell me I'm right."
"I can't."
"Why?"
He walked to the window.
"Because Elena was killed."
I stopped breathing.
"You said accident."
"I lied."
He looked back.
"Her brakes were cut."
My mouth went dry.
"Why?"
"I've spent eleven months trying to answer that."
"And you think my mother knows?"
"I think your mother disappeared the moment she realized you were standing beside me."
My phone rang in Luca's hand.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A man's voice said:
"Put Mara on."
Luca's expression changed.
"Who is this?"
"You know exactly who I am."
Luca went still.
"Salvatore."
The voice laughed.
My skin prickled.
"Hello, nephew."
Luca's uncle.
Luca put the phone on speaker.
"What do you want?"
"Mara."
"Why?"
"Because twenty-four years ago, Catherine stole something from this family."
My heart hammered.
"What?"
The man chuckled.
"Not something."
A pause.
"Someone."
Luca looked at me.
Salvatore continued.
"Ask your pretty waitress who her father is."
I whispered, "I don't know."
"I know," Salvatore said.
My stomach dropped.
"Who?"
His answer came softly.
"Antonio Moretti."
Luca's face went white.
Marco swore.
I didn't understand.
"Who is Antonio?"
Nobody answered.
"WHO IS ANTONIO?"
Luca looked at me.
"My father."
The room spun.
I stared at him.
"No."
If Antonio Moretti was Luca's father...
And mine...
Luca wasn't simply connected to me.
He was my brother.
May you like
Salvatore laughed through the phone.
"Welcome home, Mara Moretti."
