Chapter 2 - The Bracelet That Should Have Been Buried
Within thirty seconds, the mansion transformed into a prison.
Heavy iron gates slammed shut outside. Armed guards appeared in the hallways, and two black SUVs blocked the driveway.
I held Lily against my chest.
“Please, Mr. Romano. My daughter hasn't done anything wrong.”
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
His eyes remained fixed on the silver bracelet.
“Take it off.”
I instinctively covered my wrist.
“No.”
His bodyguard, Marco Bellini, stepped forward.
“Watch your tone. You're speaking to the head of this family.”
Adrian raised one hand.
“Leave her alone.”
The room went silent.
He looked at me again.
“Your mother. What's her name?”
“Elizabeth Miller.”
Something changed in his expression.
“Elizabeth… What?”
“Elizabeth Rose Miller. She died seven years ago.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
For several seconds, he looked like a man fighting a memory more painful than any bullet.
Then he turned toward Marco.
“Bring me the old family photographs. The ones from the summer before the fire.”
Marco hesitated.
“Boss, those are in the sealed archive.”
“Then break the damn seal.”
I didn't understand.
I only wanted to leave.
But when I mentioned my mother's name again, Adrian's voice became almost desperate.
“Did she ever tell you about a woman named Isabella Romano?”
My stomach tightened.
I remembered an old photograph tucked inside my mother's Bible. A beautiful young woman stood beside her, wearing a white dress and holding a baby.
My mother had always called the woman Aunt Bella.
“She said they were friends,” I answered.
Adrian stared at me.
“Friends?”
He let out a bitter laugh.
“Your mother was more than a friend.”
Before I could ask what he meant, Marco returned carrying a dusty leather album.
Adrian instructed him to open it.
Page after page showed the Romano family: expensive parties, summer vacations, formal portraits.
Then I saw her.
The woman from my mother's photograph.
She had the same delicate face, the same dark hair, and the same silver bracelet I wore.
Adrian pointed at her.
“My sister Isabella.”
I looked at him.
“But your sister died in a fire.”
“She did.”
“Then how did my mother know her?”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“Because Isabella was supposed to leave with her the night she died.”
He turned another page.
A photograph showed Isabella holding a baby wrapped in a white blanket.
On the back, someone had written:
For Elizabeth, my dearest friend. Keep my little girl safe.
My knees nearly buckled.
“That's impossible.”
Adrian looked at me.
“Grace, how old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
His fingers trembled.
“Isabella's daughter would be twenty-eight.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Before I could respond, Lily slipped from my arms and approached the photograph.
She pointed at Isabella.
“Mommy, she looks like you.”
I stared at the picture again.
For the first time, I noticed the woman's eyes.
They were exactly like mine.
Adrian whispered something I could barely hear.
“God help us.”
Then he turned toward Marco.
“Find Elizabeth Miller's death records. Every hospital record. Every adoption document. Everything.”
Marco nodded.
But as he reached the door, Adrian stopped him.
“One more thing.”
“Yes, Boss?”
“Find out who knew Grace was coming to work here.”
Marco frowned.
“Why?”
Adrian's gray eyes hardened.
“Because someone has spent twenty-eight years making sure this girl never discovered who she really was.”
And at that exact moment, someone knocked three times on the bedroom door.
A woman's voice followed.
“Adrian, darling? I heard you've finally started moving again.”
It was Vanessa Cross.
His fiancée.
May you like
And she was carrying a photograph.
A photograph of my mother.
