Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH OF MY MOTHER
My mother had been dead for three years.
Cancer.
I had watched her fade.
Sat beside her hospital bed.
Held her hand when the monitor became a flat line.
So the photograph had to be old.
Except it wasn’t.
The date printed in the corner was eight months after her funeral.
I sank onto a hallway chair.
“No.”
Luca crouched a few feet away.
“Let me see.”
I handed him the phone.
The image showed Sarah beside Dr. Bellini outside a medical office.
Between them stood a woman with my mother’s face.
Thin.
Pale.
But unmistakable.
Miriam Hale.
My mother.
Luca zoomed in.
“Could this be a relative?”
“No.”
“Twin?”
“No.”
Marcus whispered, “What hospital treated her?”
“St. Vincent Medical Center.”
Luca and Marcus exchanged a look.
“What?”
Neither answered.
“What?”
Luca stood.
“Dr. Bellini was surgical director at St. Vincent until four years ago.”
My mouth went dry.
“He treated my mother?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You know more than you’re telling me.”
“Yes.”
At least he admitted it.
Luca led us into his private study.
He contacted someone named Carlo and ordered a complete search of my mother’s medical history.
Not threats.
Not illegal hacking.
His attorney and security team were told to work through records I could legally authorize.
I signed the release.
Then we waited.
Thirty minutes later, Carlo called.
My mother’s death certificate existed.
So did hospital records.
But there was a problem.
The woman officially identified as Miriam Hale after death had never been fingerprinted.
I stared at the phone.
“What does that mean?”
Carlo answered carefully.
“The hospital recorded her identification through next of kin.”
“That was me.”
“No.”
My heart stopped.
“Then who?”
A name.
Sarah Mitchell.
I stood.
“That’s impossible.”
Carlo continued.
“Sarah signed paperwork identifying herself as Miriam Hale’s stepdaughter.”
“She wasn’t.”
“I understand.”
I thought back.
My mother died at 3:12 in the morning.
I had fallen asleep in a waiting room after thirty hours awake.
Sarah came to the hospital.
She told me Mom had passed while I slept.
She arranged everything because I couldn’t stop crying.
The funeral home.
The forms.
The cremation.
There had been no viewing because Sarah said the hospital recommended against it.
I believed her.
God.
I believed everything.
“Then who died?” I whispered.
Nobody answered.
Another report came through.
Dr. Bellini had signed my mother’s final discharge and postmortem paperwork.
Luca’s face hardened.
“He knew Sarah.”
My phone buzzed.
This time it wasn’t a message.
A video.
Sarah sat inside a dark room.
She looked terrified.
“Emily, I’m sorry.”
My name sounded wrong in her voice now.
“I never wanted you involved this far.”
I whispered, “Involved in what?”
As if she could hear me, Sarah continued.
“Your mother is alive.”
My knees weakened.
“She didn’t die from cancer because she never had cancer.”
The room spun.
May you like
Then Sarah said the sentence that shattered what remained of my life.
“Your mother was working undercover against the Rossi family.”
