Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Left Me at the Orphanage
Elena had spent twenty-two years believing she was abandoned.
Now someone was telling her she had been hidden.
The difference hurt more than she expected.
"Why would my mother leave me?" she whispered.
Margaret Vale breathed shakily into the phone.
"She believed it was the only way to keep you alive."
Elena gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.
"Then why didn't she come back?"
"I don't know everything."
"Then tell me what you do know."
Margaret hesitated.
"Your mother arrived at Saint Jude's just after midnight. She was frightened. Her coat was torn. She had blood on one sleeve."
Elena closed her eyes.
"Was she injured?"
"I couldn't tell."
"What happened?"
"She begged me to hide you."
Tears filled Elena's eyes.
Margaret continued.
"She said powerful people were searching for her daughter. She didn't trust the police. She didn't trust her family."
Elena swallowed.
"And then?"
"She left through the back entrance."
"Did she say where she was going?"
"No."
Elena wiped her face.
"Why are you calling now?"
A long pause followed.
"Because I saw a photograph online."
Elena froze.
"What photograph?"
"Someone posted a picture of Isabella Moretti holding your necklace."
Her heart tightened.
Of course.
One of the restaurant guests must have taken a picture.
Margaret lowered her voice.
"Elena, if the Morettis have found you, you're no longer safe."
The line disconnected.
Elena stared at the phone.
Then somebody knocked on her apartment door.
Three slow knocks.
Basil darted beneath the couch.
Elena's stomach twisted.
"Who is it?"
A man's voice answered.
"Miss Harding? My name is Daniel Cross. I'm an investigator working with the Moretti family's attorney."
Elena backed away.
"How did you find my address?"
"The restaurant's management provided it."
Her anger flared.
Richard.
Of course.
"Go away."
"Miss Harding, I'm not here to threaten you."
"Then leave your business card under the door."
A pause.
Then paper slid beneath the threshold.
Footsteps retreated.
Elena waited several minutes before approaching.
The card listed a licensed private investigation firm.
But another item had been slipped beneath the door.
A sealed envelope.
On the front was her name.
Inside was a photograph of a young woman holding a newborn baby.
Elena stared.
The woman had dark hair.
Amber eyes.
And a small silver willow necklace.
Lucia.
Her mother.
Elena's hands began shaking.
On the back, someone had written:
Your mother loved you.
Below it was a date.
November 16.
The day before Elena had been found.
Then she noticed something else.
A hospital identification bracelet wrapped around the baby's wrist.
The name printed on it was not Elena Harding.
It was Sofia Moretti.
Elena's breath caught.
Sofia.
Her real name might have been Sofia.
But before she could process the discovery, her phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
If you want the truth about Lucia, come alone.
An address followed.
A closed church in Brooklyn.
Then another message appeared.
Do not tell Aleandro.
Elena stared at the screen.
May you like
And beneath the address came one final sentence.
Your mother is still alive.
