Chapter 3 - THE MOTHER WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
My mother had died in a hospice facility outside Queens.
At least, that was what my father told me.
I remembered standing beside her bed.
Holding her cold hand.
Whispering that I forgave her for all the years she spent grieving Owen instead of noticing that I was still alive.
Now I was looking at a photograph of her smiling beside a hospital bed.
Taken yesterday.
I couldn't breathe.
Roman watched me carefully.
"Harper?"
"That's my mother."
He looked at the screen.
"What's her name?"
"Margaret Hayes."
His expression changed.
He repeated it slowly.
"Margaret Hayes."
I stared at him.
"You know her?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he called his security chief.
"Vincent, get me everything you can lawfully verify about Margaret Hayes and Bright Horizons."
Vincent nodded and stepped away.
Roman turned back to me.
"Harper, my mother has mentioned that name before."
I gripped the table.
"When?"
"Years ago."
"Why?"
"She said Margaret helped children who'd been abandoned by their families."
I shook my head.
"Mom wasn't a social worker."
"What did she do?"
"She was a hospital administrator."
Roman leaned back.
"At St. Catherine's?"
I nodded.
The realization struck both of us at once.
My mother had worked at the same hospital where Owen supposedly died.
And now she appeared to be alive.
I stood abruptly.
"I need to leave."
Roman rose.
"Where are you going?"
"To find her."
"Harper, you don't know who's sending those messages."
I turned toward him.
"And you don't know what it's like to bury your entire family while everyone keeps telling you to move on."
He stopped.
For one second, something vulnerable crossed his face.
Then he nodded.
"You're right."
The admission surprised me.
I took a breath.
"I need answers."
"So do I."
He stepped aside.
"You can leave whenever you want. But if someone is threatening you, I'd like to help you contact the police."
I stared at him.
The most feared Mafia boss in New York was offering to call the police.
Perhaps the world really had gone insane.
That afternoon, Detective Laura Bennett reviewed the messages and photographs.
She examined the alleged death records.
Then she frowned.
"Harper, there's something strange here."
My heart pounded.
"What?"
"Your mother's death certificate references a physician whose medical license was suspended before the listed date."
I felt sick.
"So?"
"It raises questions about the authenticity of the document."
Roman leaned forward.
"What about Owen?"
The detective opened another file.
Her expression changed.
"His death certificate was signed by the same physician."
I stopped breathing.
Then she looked directly at me.
"Harper, I don't think we should assume either death record is genuine."
My hands trembled.
But the worst part came when she opened the original hospital admission documents.
Beside Owen's name was a handwritten instruction.
"Transfer patient to Moretti Foundation custody."
And beneath it was a signature.
May you like
Beatrice Moretti.
Roman's mother.
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