Chapter 2 - The Two Death Certificates
The most feared mafia boss in New York had grown up believing his aunt and baby cousin were dead.
Now the supposed dead child was standing in front of him wearing a waitress uniform.
Elena stared at Aleandro.
"Your father told everyone we were dead?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Isabella wiped her tears.
"His father was my oldest son, Antonio Moretti."
"Where is he now?" Elena asked.
Aleandro's face hardened.
"Dead. Eight years."
Elena felt an unexpected wave of disappointment.
She had spent twenty-two years without answers.
Now the person who might have explained everything was gone.
"How did he die?"
Aleandro hesitated.
"He was murdered."
A heavy silence settled over the table.
Richard cleared his throat.
"Perhaps this conversation should continue somewhere private."
For once, Elena agreed.
She hated being watched.
Hated the way wealthy guests were pretending not to listen.
But she also knew something important.
She wasn't going anywhere without her necklace.
Isabella gently released it.
Aleandro asked whether Elena would consider meeting the family attorney.
"A DNA test could establish whether we're related," he said.
Elena folded her arms.
"And if I say no?"
"Then we respect your decision."
She studied him.
He didn't look like a man accustomed to accepting refusal.
But he had answered without hesitation.
"Fine," she whispered. "I'll consider it."
Aleandro gave her a business card.
No threats.
No dramatic promises.
Just a number.
And an address.
Elena left the restaurant fifteen minutes later.
Outside, November rain swept across the sidewalk.
She clutched the necklace beneath her coat.
Her whole life had changed in less than an hour.
Yet she still had to catch the subway home.
Still had to feed Basil.
Still had to worry about rent.
The world didn't stop because someone had discovered a possible grandmother.
When Elena reached her apartment above the laundromat, Basil greeted her with an indignant meow.
"You're not going to believe tonight," she whispered.
The cat blinked.
She laughed weakly.
Then began crying.
She sat on the kitchen floor and let herself fall apart.
For years, she'd imagined finding her family.
Now she was terrified of what that might mean.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then answered.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice whispered, "Elena Harding?"
"Who's this?"
"Someone who knew your mother."
Elena's entire body went cold.
"Who are you?"
"Listen carefully. Don't trust Isabella Moretti."
Elena stood.
"What?"
"That necklace is the reason your mother disappeared."
Her heart pounded.
"Tell me your name."
A pause.
Then the woman whispered, "Margaret Vale."
Elena frowned.
She didn't recognize it.
Margaret continued.
"I worked at Saint Jude's when you were brought there."
Elena gripped the counter.
"Then you know who left me?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
The woman began crying.
"Your mother."
Elena's breath caught.
"Lucia?"
"Yes."
"Was she alive?"
"She was when she handed you to me."
Elena covered her mouth.
"Then why didn't she come back?"
Margaret's voice trembled.
"Because someone was following her."
"Who?"
A long silence followed.
Then Margaret said the words that made Elena's knees weaken.
May you like
"Your mother wasn't running from strangers, Elena."
"She was running from her own family."
