Chapter 12 - THE GIRL WHO LIVED INSIDE HIS HOUSE
Alexander Moretti had told me he was an only child.
Now my father was claiming his family had raised my missing sister.
I stared at him when I returned from the rehabilitation center.
"Do you have a sister?"
He looked confused.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
His expression changed.
"Emily, what's happened?"
I took a breath.
"My father says your family adopted a little girl named Lily."
Alexander went completely still.
Then he whispered:
"Isabella."
My heart stopped.
"Who?"
He slowly sat down.
"My father brought a little girl into our home when I was nineteen."
I stared.
"Where is she?"
Alexander looked devastated.
"She died five years later."
My knees weakened.
"No."
He stood immediately.
"Emily—"
"No. Not again."
I backed away.
My father had survived.
Alexander's mother had survived.
But now the sister I'd never known might truly be dead.
Alexander spoke gently.
"Let me explain."
I looked at him.
He took a breath.
"Her name was Isabella Moretti. My father said she was the daughter of a distant relative."
"How old was she?"
"Four."
My chest tightened.
"Did she have brown eyes?"
Alexander nodded.
"And dark curly hair?"
"Yes."
I covered my mouth.
It was her.
It had to be.
Alexander continued.
"She was shy at first. She loved books and hated thunderstorms."
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
"I remember my mother saying our baby would have curly hair."
Alexander's face crumpled.
"Emily..."
"What happened to Isabella?"
He looked away.
"She became ill. My father arranged private treatment."
"And?"
"One day, they told me she died."
I stared.
"Did you see her body?"
He went silent.
My heart began pounding.
"Alexander?"
"No."
The answer barely escaped his lips.
I closed my eyes.
Another closed funeral.
Another child supposedly dead.
Another family secret.
Alexander reached for his phone.
"We need to find the records."
For the next several hours, investigators reviewed the available documents.
Isabella Moretti had been listed as deceased at age nine.
But there was no verified medical examiner's report.
No complete hospital record.
And no death certificate matching the name in the state database.
My heart began racing.
"She's alive."
Rachel held up a hand.
"We don't know that yet."
But she looked hopeful.
Then Marcus arrived with something unexpected.
A school photograph.
A teenage girl standing outside a private academy in Boston.
Dark curls.
Brown eyes.
A familiar smile.
The photograph had been taken seven years earlier.
I stared.
"That's her."
Alexander leaned closer.
His expression changed.
"Isabella."
The girl looked older.
But unmistakably familiar.
Then Marcus revealed something that made the room go silent.
"She didn't die, boss."
Alexander stared.
"What?"
"She was transferred to another family under a new identity."
My heart stopped.
"What's her name now?"
Marcus handed me the document.
I read it aloud.
"Olivia Hayes."
The surname hit me like ice water.
Hayes.
Derek's family.
Marcus nodded grimly.
"Richard Hayes arranged the adoption."
May you like
Then he added the terrible secret.
"Olivia has been working for Derek for the past four years."
