Chapter 5 - The Mother Who Called From the Grave
I knew my mother's voice.
I knew the way she softened the first syllable of my name.
The way her breath caught when she was frightened.
The way she always called me her little star.
Now that voice was coming through my phone.
"Mara?"
I gripped the edge of the table.
"Who is this?"
A shaky breath.
"It's Mom."
My eyes filled.
"No."
"Mara, sweetheart—"
"No!"
My voice broke.
"My mother is dead."
The woman began crying.
"I know what you were told."
My chest tightened.
Four years earlier, I'd stood beside a hospital bed while a physician explained that Eleanor Quinn hadn't survived a severe medical emergency.
The funeral followed three days later.
The coffin remained closed.
I'd been told it was because of the condition of her body.
I remembered thinking how cruel it was to lose someone without one final goodbye.
Now a stranger was claiming to be her.
"Tell me something only my mother would know," I whispered.
A long silence followed.
Then the woman answered.
"When you were seven, you hid a blue marble inside your grandfather's piano because you thought it contained a piece of the ocean."
My breath stopped.
Nobody else knew that.
Not even my best friend.
I sank into a chair.
"Mom?"
She began sobbing.
"I'm sorry."
I covered my mouth.
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you yet."
"Why?"
"Because the people who made me disappear are still watching."
My heart pounded.
"Who?"
She hesitated.
Then whispered:
"Silvio Romano."
The name hit me like a physical blow.
Gabriel's closest adviser.
The man who'd recommended Cassandra.
The man whose company paid for the false translation.
My mother continued.
"Mara, I need you to listen."
I closed my eyes.
"I'm listening."
"Don't let Gabriel open the chest alone."
"Why?"
"Because the chest contains evidence that could destroy everything he believes about his family."
I swallowed.
"Mom, are you safe?"
"For now."
Then she said something unexpected.
"Alessandro is with me."
I went completely still.
"The Wolf?"
"Yes."
My heart raced.
"He's alive?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"But Mara, Alessandro Moretti isn't the person Gabriel thinks he is."
I stared at the wall.
"What do you mean?"
My mother's voice trembled.
"Twenty-three years ago, the Moretti family believed Alessandro died without children."
I swallowed.
"And?"
"He didn't."
A long silence followed.
Then she whispered:
"He had a daughter."
My stomach dropped.
"Who?"
The answer came so softly I almost missed it.
"Her name was Isabella."
I frowned.
"Was?"
My mother's voice broke.
"She was taken away when she was a baby."
My heart pounded.
Then she delivered the revelation that changed everything.
"Mara, Isabella is the girl you knew as your older sister."
I stared.
I had grown up believing I was an only child.
But I remembered something.
A little girl in an old photograph.
Standing beside me when I was four.
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My mother always said she was a neighbor's daughter.
And now I understood why she never told me the girl's name.
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