Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Knew Too Much
At six the next morning, Elena found two black SUVs parked across from Rosie’s Kitchen.
She called Adrien immediately.
“Are those your men?”
“Yes.”
“Get them away from my restaurant.”
“They're protecting you.”
“They're frightening my customers.”
“It's six in the morning.”
“My customers are very punctual.”
“Elena—”
“Adrien.”
He sighed.
“I'll have them move farther down the street.”
“Thank you.”
She hung up.
Ten seconds later, her phone rang again.
“What now?”
“Good morning,” Adrien said.
She closed her eyes.
Against her better judgment, she smiled.
It was becoming a problem.
A dangerous one.
Because Elena knew exactly what men like Adrien Moretti represented.
Power.
Violence.
Secrets.
And the ability to make ordinary people disappear behind expensive explanations.
She had spent her life building something honest.
She wasn't about to lose it because a handsome man with sad eyes liked her grandmother's cooking.
At eight, Elena visited the former grocery store.
Adrien insisted on accompanying her.
The property stood on a narrow residential street, its old brick facade hidden beneath modern gray siding.
A woman named Margaret Hensley answered the door.
She was sixty-eight, wore enormous glasses, and seemed delighted to discover that someone remembered the building's history.
“Rosa Bellini?” Margaret repeated. “Of course. My mother bought vegetables from her.”
Elena explained that they were researching family history.
Margaret invited them inside.
The basement had been converted into a laundry room.
New flooring covered the old concrete.
White cabinets lined the walls.
Adrien stood near the staircase.
For a moment, he could almost smell Rosa's cooking.
He remembered the small wooden table.
The old refrigerator.
The faded yellow curtains.
And a boy who had been too frightened to believe kindness could last.
“Are you all right?” Elena whispered.
He nodded.
Margaret led them downstairs.
“The previous owners told me there was once a storage compartment beneath the floor. We found it during renovations.”
Adrien turned.
“What happened to it?”
“We covered it. Nothing inside but some old newspapers.”
“Where?”
Margaret pointed toward the washing machine.
Twenty minutes later, with Margaret's permission and a contractor on the way to repair the flooring, Adrien lifted a section of laminate.
Beneath it lay a narrow metal hatch.
Elena knelt beside him.
“That's new.”
Adrien examined the screws.
“No. The hatch is old. The lock isn't.”
Someone had opened it recently.
Leo arrived with a small tool kit.
He removed the lock.
Inside was a shallow compartment.
Empty.
Except for a torn photograph.
Elena picked it up.
It showed Rosa standing beside a younger Salvatore Moretti.
Between them stood another man.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Wearing a police uniform.
On the back, Rosa had written:
The night we made the wrong promise.
Adrien studied the photograph.
“I know that man.”
Elena looked at him.
“Who?”
“Daniel Vescari. My father's former business partner.”
“Was he a police officer?”
“He was. Before he became the man who handled my father's political connections.”
“Where is he now?”
Adrien's face hardened.
“According to the official record, dead.”
Elena stared at him.
“You seem to know a disturbing number of dead people.”
“This one died in a warehouse fire twenty-three years ago.”
“Do you believe that?”
Adrien looked again at the photograph.
“No.”
They returned to Rosie’s shortly before noon.
A woman was waiting outside.
She wore a camel-colored coat and carried a designer handbag.
Her dark hair was pulled into a severe bun.
When she saw Adrien, she smiled.
“Darling.”
Elena stopped walking.
Adrien's expression became unreadable.
“Vivienne.”
The woman approached and kissed his cheek.
Elena felt something unpleasant twist beneath her ribs.
Vivienne looked at her apron, her practical shoes, and her flour-dusted sleeve.
“Oh,” she said pleasantly. “You must be the cook.”
“Elena Caruso.”
“Vivienne DeLuca.”
The name was familiar.
DeLuca Holdings owned hotels, luxury apartments, and several influential Chicago charities.
Vivienne extended a hand.
Elena shook it.
“Adrien and I have known each other forever,” Vivienne said.
Adrien's voice cooled.
“That's enough, Vivienne.”
She smiled wider.
“We were engaged once. Did he forget to mention that?”
Elena released her hand.
“He forgot to mention quite a few things.”
Vivienne turned to Adrien.
“Your uncle wants you at dinner tonight.”
“I have other plans.”
“Cancel them.”
“No.”
Vivienne's smile disappeared.
“Your family is becoming concerned about your new interests.”
Adrien stepped closer.
“Tell my uncle that my interests are none of his business.”
Vivienne glanced toward Elena.
“Some people should be careful about entering worlds they don't understand.”
Elena smiled sweetly.
“And some people should be careful about threatening strangers outside restaurants with security cameras.”
Vivienne's eyes narrowed.
She walked away without another word.
Adrien watched her car disappear.
“Elena—”
“Don't.”
“Vivienne and I haven't been together in six years.”
“Congratulations.”
“She doesn't mean anything to me.”
“That's between you and your former fiancée.”
He looked at her.
“Are you jealous?”
Elena laughed.
“Of a woman who looks like she moisturizes with inheritance money? Absolutely not.”
Adrien smiled.
Then his phone rang.
Leo's name appeared.
Adrien answered.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“What happened?”
He listened.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“I'm coming.”
Elena felt the temperature of the conversation drop.
“What is it?”
Adrien put the phone away.
“Margaret Hensley.”
“The woman who let us into the basement?”
He nodded.
“She was found unconscious in her kitchen.”
Elena's stomach dropped.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes. Barely.”
“Was it an accident?”
Adrien looked at the torn photograph in his hand.
“No.”
He turned it over.
For the first time, he noticed faint writing beneath Rosa's message.
Three words.
Ask the daughter.
Adrien stared at them.
Then he looked at Elena.
“Your grandmother had a daughter before your mother, didn't she?”
Elena felt her knees weaken.
Because there was one family secret Rosa had forbidden anyone to discuss.
A daughter who had disappeared in 1989.
A daughter whose name had been erased from every family photograph.
May you like
And Elena had just received a letter from that same woman.
Three days earlier.
