Chapter 5 - The Woman in the Silver Necklace
The next morning, I woke up in a guest suite at the Moretti mansion.
I hadn't agreed to move there.
Alessandro had insisted that the apartment wasn't safe, and Sasha had accepted the arrangement only after he promised she could finish school without interruption.
I still didn't trust him.
But I trusted the men threatening us even less.
The mansion stood behind iron gates on the outskirts of Chicago. Marble floors, enormous windows, and security cameras seemed to cover every corner.
It was beautiful.
It was also a prison with expensive furniture.
At breakfast, Alessandro sat across from me reading documents.
“You should eat.”
“I should go home.”
“You're safer here.”
“I'm tired of hearing that.”
He lowered the newspaper.
“Then tell me what you want.”
“I want to know why my mother hid me. I want to know who my father was. And I want to know why Vivienne looked like she'd seen a ghost when she saw that bracelet.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
He pushed a folder across the table.
“Your mother's financial records.”
I opened it.
For eighteen years, someone had deposited money into an account under Elena Bennett's name.
The deposits were irregular but substantial.
The last one had been made three weeks before her death.
“Who sent this money?”
“Vittorio.”
I looked up.
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Then he knew about me.”
“He suspected.”
“Why didn't he find us?”
Alessandro's jaw tightened.
“Because he believed your mother had betrayed him.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Eighteen years ago, a confidential family ledger disappeared. It contained the names of politicians, judges, and business partners who had been paid by the Moretti organization.”
“And my mother took it?”
“We believe so.”
I remembered the old notebooks.
My mother had filled them with recipes, grocery lists, and handwritten notes.
One notebook had a strange blue ribbon tied around it.
I suddenly remembered her warning.
Never let anyone take the blue notebook.
I stood.
“Where are my mother's belongings?”
“Your sister brought them.”
I hurried upstairs.
Sasha was sitting on the bed, reading one of Mother's old journals.
“Did you find something?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Look at this.”
Inside the blue notebook, between two recipes, was a tiny envelope.
It contained a brass key and a photograph of a building.
The address was in Cicero.
On the back, my mother had written:
If the Morettis ever come looking, the truth is in the place where everything began.
Alessandro appeared in the doorway.
He recognized the building immediately.
“St. Catherine's Hospital.”
“It's abandoned,” Luca said from behind him.
Alessandro took the key.
“We're going tonight.”
That afternoon, I was introduced to the mansion's housekeeper, Mrs. Bellamy.
She was an elderly woman with gentle eyes who had worked for the Moretti family for decades.
When she saw my face, she stopped moving.
“Oh, my goodness.”
“What?”
She touched her mouth.
“You look exactly like Elena.”
“You knew my mother?”
Her eyes filled.
“I loved that woman.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“Why did she leave?”
Mrs. Bellamy glanced toward the staircase.
“Because she discovered something terrible.”
“What?”
She lowered her voice.
“Isabella DeLuca was never supposed to marry into this family.”
Before I could ask another question, a woman's voice came from the hallway.
“Mrs. Bellamy, I believe you've said enough.”
Vivienne stood in the doorway.
She was no longer wearing her silver necklace.
Instead, a small bandage covered the side of her neck.
Alessandro stepped forward.
“How did you get in?”
“Your security team let me through.”
“You're not welcome here.”
Vivienne ignored him.
She looked at me.
“Your mother kept something that belonged to my family.”
“The ledger?”
Her smile was cold.
“Something much more valuable.”
She reached into her handbag and removed a photograph.
It showed two baby girls lying in hospital bassinets.
One wore a pink bracelet.
The other wore a blue one.
Vivienne pointed to the baby in blue.
“That was you.”
Then she pointed to the other baby.
“And that was my sister.”
I stared at her.
“You have a sister?”
Vivienne's eyes glistened.
“Had.”
Alessandro went completely still.
“Explain.”
Vivienne looked at him.
“Your father had an affair with my mother. She gave birth to twins. One of them died that night.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Vivienne turned back to me.
“Your mother knew the truth. She helped cover it up. And now, because you've returned, everyone who was involved is going to start talking.”
She placed the photograph on the table.
Then she whispered:
“Ask Alessandro why he was never told his sister existed.”
I turned toward him.
He looked genuinely shocked.
But Vivienne wasn't finished.
“Because the baby who died wasn't your sister, Nerissa.”
She pointed at me.
May you like
“The baby who died was Sasha.”
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