Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
The baby was still asleep against Elina’s chest when the man finally spoke.
“Her name was Sofia.”
His voice had changed.
The cold authority was still there, but something underneath it had cracked.
Elina looked at the photograph.
Then back at him.
“Who was she?”
“My wife.”
The answer landed harder than she expected.
The child shifted.
His tiny fist closed around the fabric of Elina’s apron.
The man noticed.
His jaw tightened.
“She died ten months ago.”
Elina looked down at the baby.
Nine months.
Meaning Sofia died shortly after his birth.
“I’m sorry.”
He said nothing.
One of the bodyguards approached.
“Luca.”
So that was his name.
Luca Moretti.
Even Elina knew that name.
People in Boston whispered it differently than ordinary names.
Lower.
Carefully.
Luca looked at the photograph again.
“Where did that picture come from?”
The manager, Marco, had gone pale behind the bar.
“It’s been there for years.”
“No.”
Luca’s eyes sharpened.
“It hasn’t.”
Marco swallowed.
“Elina?”
She frowned.
“I don’t know.”
She had worked at Orelio for eleven months.
The photograph had always been there as far as she remembered.
But maybe she had simply never noticed it.
Then Luca stepped closer to the frame.
He removed it from the wall.
On the back, someone had written:
SOFIA BELLANDI — 2014.
Elina’s heart stuttered.
Bellandi.
Why did the name feel familiar?
Then she remembered.
Her adoptive mother had kept an old hospital bracelet in a locked jewelry box.
Elina saw it once when she was sixteen.
A white plastic strip.
Faded writing.
Baby Girl Bellandi.
Her mother told her it belonged to a neighbor.
Elina had believed her.
Until now.
Her hands began trembling.
Luca saw.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
Elina looked toward Marco.
Then back to Luca.
“My mother had something with that name.”
“What thing?”
“A hospital bracelet.”
Luca went completely still.
“What did it say?”
“Baby Girl Bellandi.”
The baby woke.
He looked up at Elina.
Then smiled.
Luca’s face drained of color.
“Where were you born?”
“I don’t know.”
His eyes hardened.
“What do you mean?”
“I was adopted.”
Silence.
Not ordinary silence.
The kind that rearranged the room.
Then Marco made a sound behind the bar.
Elina turned.
He had dropped a glass.
Luca looked at him.
“You know something.”
Marco shook his head too quickly.
“No.”
Luca stepped toward him.
“Marco.”
The manager backed away.
“I promised.”
Elina’s heart started racing.
“Promised who?”
Marco looked at her.
Not Luca.
Her.
Then whispered:
“Sofia.”
Luca froze.
Marco’s voice broke.
“She came here eight months before she died.”
Elina stared.
“Why?”
He looked at the photograph.
May you like
Then at Elina.
“To find you.”
