Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO DIED TWICE
I laughed.
It wasn't a happy sound.
It was the kind of laugh that escaped when the alternative was screaming.
“No.”
Dante watched me.
“No?”
“No, I'm not your sister. I'm not anyone's missing princess. I'm a waitress from Chicago whose mother died three months ago.”
Leo stirred against my chest.
I lowered my voice.
“And I would really appreciate it if you stopped talking like my life is a television show.”
Dante leaned back.
“I didn't say you were my sister.”
I blinked.
“You said your father's daughter.”
“My father had two families.”
The SUV fell silent.
Even Marco seemed uncomfortable.
Dante looked toward the dark water.
“My father married a woman named Elena Bellandi before I was born. Their marriage was arranged between two powerful families. She disappeared during a massacre twenty-five years ago.”
“And you think she was my mother?”
“I think your pendant belonged to her.”
“Lots of people have silver jewelry.”
“Not that jewelry.”
He reached toward it, then stopped.
“May I?”
I hesitated.
Finally, I nodded.
He turned the pendant gently between two fingers.
“The five stars represent the Bellandi family. The broken crown represents an oath made in Sicily. Only five pendants were ever created.”
“Five?”
“One for each child of the original Bellandi patriarch.”
I looked at the engraving.
My mother had worn it every day.
Even in the hospital.
Even when she was too weak to remember whether she'd taken her medication.
She had begged me never to remove it.
“Why would your father's wife have one?”
“Because she was the Bellandi heir.”
I swallowed.
“Then why did she disappear?”
Dante's expression hardened.
“Because someone murdered her family.”
The SUV entered an underground garage beneath a luxury building overlooking Lake Michigan.
I had never been inside a place like it.
Polished stone floors.
Private elevators.
Men with earpieces.
A security system that looked more appropriate for a government building.
Dante opened my door.
“Come inside.”
“Am I allowed to leave?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
He looked at the sleeping baby in my arms.
“As soon as it's safe.”
“That sounds suspiciously like no.”
For the first time, the corner of his mouth moved.
Barely.
But I noticed.
Inside, a housekeeper named Teresa met us with a worried expression.
“Signore, Leo's room is ready.”
Dante nodded.
Teresa reached for the baby.
Leo woke immediately.
His face crumpled.
He grabbed my necklace.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I whispered.
Teresa froze.
“He hasn't let anyone hold him this long since—”
She stopped.
Dante's eyes warned her into silence.
I noticed.
And I remembered.
“Since who?”
Nobody answered.
I looked down at Leo.
“Where's his mother?”
Dante's expression closed.
“Dead.”
The word was flat.
Final.
But Teresa looked away too quickly.
I knew grief.
I knew what it looked like when people didn't want to discuss a death.
This felt different.
Dante led me into a sitting room with enormous windows overlooking the lake.
A silver tray held tea, sandwiches, and a bowl of fruit.
I hadn't eaten since noon.
My stomach betrayed me with a loud growl.
Dante glanced at the tray.
“Eat.”
“Is that an order?”
“It's a sandwich.”
I sat.
Leo remained on my lap.
For a few minutes, I ate while Dante made phone calls.
Then Marco entered carrying a folder.
His face was pale.
“Boss.”
Dante took it.
“What?”
“We found the hospital records.”
He opened the folder.
His eyes narrowed.
“Read it,” I demanded.
Dante looked up.
“Your mother's death certificate is legitimate.”
Relief rushed through me.
“See?”
“But Nora Reed's fingerprints belong to another woman.”
The relief vanished.
“Who?”
Marco answered.
“Dr. Evelyn Bellandi.”
I stared at him.
“Doctor?”
“She was a pediatric surgeon in New York. She disappeared twenty-five years ago after a fire at a private clinic.”
I shook my head.
“My mother wasn't a doctor.”
“Did she ever talk about medicine?” Dante asked.
I remembered the way Mom cleaned cuts.
The way she knew exactly when a fever was dangerous.
The way she once corrected an emergency-room resident about a medication dosage.
“She said she worked as a nurse before I was born.”
Dante closed the folder.
“Evelyn Bellandi was Elena Bellandi's younger sister.”
I looked from him to Marco.
“So my mother was your father's sister-in-law?”
“Possibly.”
“Then who am I?”
Dante didn't answer.
Marco placed another photograph on the table.
It showed three women standing in front of a mansion.
One wore a pale blue dress.
Another had dark hair and a serious expression.
The third stood slightly behind them, holding a baby wrapped in white.
My breath caught.
The woman holding the baby was my mother.
Younger.
Smiling.
Alive in a way I barely remembered.
I touched the photograph.
“That's her.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Which one?”
“The woman with the baby.”
His face changed.
“Are you certain?”
“Of course.”
Marco exhaled slowly.
Dante looked at the photograph again.
Then he turned it over.
Written in faded blue ink were four words.
Evelyn. Elena. Baby Sofia.
I felt the room tilt.
“Sofia?”
Dante stared at me.
“That's the name of Elena Bellandi's daughter.”
I looked down at Leo.
His little fingers were still wrapped around my necklace.
“Then I'm Sofia?”
“Maybe.”
“Why wouldn't my mother tell me?”
Dante's voice softened.
“Because whoever killed Elena might still be looking for her daughter.”
A door opened.
An elderly man entered the room.
He wore a dark wool coat and walked with a silver cane.
His face was deeply lined.
His eyes were the same gray as Leo's.
Dante stood immediately.
“Father.”
The old man ignored him.
He stared at me.
At my face.
At my necklace.
Then his cane fell from his hand.
“No,” he whispered.
His eyes filled with tears.
“Elena?”
I couldn't move.
The old man took one trembling step toward me.
“After all these years…”
Dante caught his arm.
“Father, this is Alina.”
The old man's expression collapsed.
He looked at me again.
Then he whispered something that made Dante go completely still.
“She has Elena's face.”
May you like
His gaze dropped to the pendant.
“And she has the necklace I buried with my wife.”
