Chapter 8 - THE SECRET MY MOTHER TOOK TO HER GRAVE
I spent twenty-seven years believing Michael Hayes was my father.
He taught me to ride a bicycle.
He attended every school recital.
He cried when I left for college.
Now a photograph was telling me another man might have given me his blood.
“I want a DNA test.”
My voice sounded strangely calm.
Adrian nodded.
“I've already contacted someone.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course you have.”
“Claire—”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did your father?”
“I don't know.”
“Your family had this photograph.”
“I found it three days ago.”
“Where?”
“In a locked file after Daniel's letter mentioned your grandfather.”
I looked at the man in the picture.
Vittorio Moretti.
Adrian's father.
Dead for nine years.
According to every article I'd ever read, Vittorio Moretti had been feared throughout Chicago.
My mother had been a nurse from Indiana.
Nothing about their lives should have crossed.
Yet there she was, smiling beside him.
My hands trembled.
“What if he's my father?”
Adrian's face tightened.
“Then Luca and I would be your half-brothers.”
I stared at him.
And then horror hit both of us simultaneously.
The grocery store kiss.
“Oh, God.”
Adrian looked sick.
“I didn't know.”
“I know.”
“Claire.”
“We're finding out immediately.”
The test was arranged privately.
While we waited, I called my mother's sister, Aunt Ellen.
At first, she denied everything.
Then I sent her the photograph.
She went silent.
“Aunt Ellen?”
“I promised your mother.”
My knees weakened.
“So it's true?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
“Vittorio wasn't your father.”
Relief crashed through me so violently that I had to sit down.
“Then why does the photograph say daughter?”
“Because your mother was protecting you.”
“From what?”
Aunt Ellen began crying.
“From the people who killed your grandfather.”
Adrian turned on speakerphone.
“What happened to Samuel Hayes?” he asked.
“Who is this?”
“Adrian Moretti.”
Silence.
Then Ellen whispered, “You sound like your mother.”
Adrian froze.
“What?”
“Your mother knew Maria.”
His mother, Sofia Moretti, had died when Adrian was twelve.
Nobody spoke.
Ellen continued.
“Samuel Hayes discovered what Black Harbor was doing with his property. Vittorio helped him hide the real trust documents.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because Vittorio wanted out of Black Harbor.”
Adrian looked stunned.
Everything he'd believed about his father had apparently been incomplete too.
“The photograph was insurance,” Ellen said. “If someone found it, they'd believe Claire was Vittorio's daughter and think the Morettis had a personal reason to protect her.”
“So who's my biological father?”
“Michael Hayes.”
Tears filled my eyes.
The man who raised me had truly been my father.
A DNA test later confirmed it.
But that relief lasted only minutes.
Because Aunt Ellen had one more secret.
“Claire, the Hayes property isn't the real reason they're after your baby.”
I gripped the phone.
“What else could there possibly be?”
“Your grandfather hid something beneath one of those properties.”
“What?”
“A ledger.”
Adrian went completely still.
Ellen whispered, “Every payment Black Harbor ever made. Judges. Police. Politicians. Businesses. Murders.”
My throat tightened.
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
Then someone knocked loudly on Aunt Ellen's door.
She gasped.
“Ellen?” I said.
Another knock.
A man's voice sounded in the background.
“Chicago Police.”
Adrian grabbed the phone.
May you like
“Do not open that door.”
The line went dead.
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