Chapter 1 - The Name Hidden Behind the Silver Willow
Isabella Moretti turned the necklace over, and twenty-two years of buried grief came rushing back.
There were three tiny letters engraved beneath the silver willow tree.
A. M. R.
The old woman's knees buckled.
Aleandro caught her before she struck the marble floor.
"Nonna!"
Isabella clutched his sleeve.
"Alessandro," she whispered, using his childhood name. "It's hers."
His face tightened.
"Whose?"
The old woman looked at Elena.
Tears streamed down her wrinkled cheeks.
"My daughter's."
Elena stopped breathing.
The champagne bottle trembled in her hand.
"I'm sorry?"
Isabella reached toward her, then stopped.
"Twenty-two years ago, my daughter disappeared with her baby girl."
Aleandro's expression changed.
"Nonna, please."
But Isabella was no longer listening.
"Her name was Lucia. Lucia Moretti."
The restaurant seemed to tilt beneath Elena's feet.
She had spent her entire life wondering where she came from.
She'd imagined hundreds of possibilities.
Maybe her mother had been too young.
Maybe she had been sick.
Maybe she couldn't afford to keep a baby.
But never, not once, had Elena imagined that the answer might be standing in front of her wearing diamonds.
"You're mistaken," Elena whispered.
Isabella shook her head.
"I had this necklace made for Lucia when she turned eighteen. There were two identical pieces. Hers had a blue stone."
Elena looked down.
"The stone is cracked."
Isabella sobbed.
"It cracked the night she left."
Aleandro stepped forward.
"Enough. We need proof before we tell this woman anything else."
His voice was controlled, but Elena noticed something strange.
His hands were shaking.
Isabella looked up at him.
"You remember Lucia."
"Of course I remember her."
"Then look at this girl's eyes."
Aleandro turned toward Elena.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
His amber eyes narrowed.
Then his expression changed.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Recognition.
Elena instinctively stepped backward.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I grew up in foster care. I was found outside Saint Jude's Home in Chicago."
Isabella covered her mouth.
"Chicago?"
Elena nodded.
"Yes."
The old woman began crying harder.
Aleandro caught her arm.
"Nonna, sit down."
"No!"
The force of her response startled everyone.
Isabella pointed toward Elena.
"Ask her when she was found."
Elena swallowed.
"November seventeenth. Twenty-two years ago."
Isabella let out a broken sound.
Then she sank into her chair.
Aleandro went completely still.
The date meant something to him.
Elena could see it.
"What happened on November seventeenth?" she demanded.
Neither answered.
Her fear turned into anger.
"Please stop staring at me like I'm a ghost. I'm a person. I deserve to know what's happening."
Aleandro looked at her.
For the first time, his expression softened.
"You're right."
He turned toward Richard, the restaurant manager.
"Miss Harding's shift is over. Pay her for the full evening."
Richard hurried forward.
"But, Mr. Moretti—"
"Now."
Elena tightened her grip on the necklace.
"I don't need special treatment."
Aleandro looked back.
"Then consider this an apology for turning your workplace into a family investigation."
The answer surprised her.
Isabella reached for Elena's hand.
This time, Elena allowed it.
The old woman's fingers were warm.
"My darling, I don't know whether you're my granddaughter. But if you are, someone took you from us."
Elena's eyes filled.
"Who?"
Isabella looked toward Aleandro.
He slowly lowered his gaze.
And the old woman whispered something that made the entire table go silent.
"Your mother was supposed to meet us at Saint Jude's that night."
Elena froze.
"Then why didn't she?"
Isabella began sobbing.
"Because they told us Lucia and her baby were killed before she arrived."
Aleandro closed his eyes.
May you like
Then Isabella revealed the secret that shattered everything Elena believed about her past.
"The man who brought us their death certificates was Aleandro's father."
