Chapter 2 - THE SECRET MY BROTHER NEVER TOLD ME
I reached Lakeview Medical Center twenty-eight minutes later.
Alessandro came with me.
I told him not to.
He ignored me.
Apparently, mafia bosses considered requests optional.
Marco was sitting upright in bed when I entered.
He smiled.
“Hey, Bella.”
Then he saw Alessandro behind me.
His face changed.
Not much.
But enough.
“You know him,” I said.
Marco looked at me.
“What?”
“The man in the photo.”
I placed the picture on his blanket.
His expression tightened.
“I can explain.”
My stomach dropped.
“Then explain.”
Alessandro stood near the door, silent.
Marco glanced at him.
“Can he leave?”
“No,” Alessandro said.
I turned.
“Actually, yes.”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“This is my brother.”
“And the man in that photograph worked for someone who may be trying to hurt both of you.”
Marco closed his eyes.
“Bella, sit down.”
“I don't want to sit down.”
“That seems to run in the family,” Alessandro muttered.
I ignored him.
“Who is he?”
Marco looked at the photograph again.
“His name is Daniel Voss.”
“And?”
“He came to see me two weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“He said he knew Dad.”
The room went silent.
Our father had died twelve years earlier.
A heart attack.
At least that was what I'd always believed.
“What do you mean, he knew Dad?”
Marco swallowed.
“He said Dad didn't die the way we were told.”
My chest tightened.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you already have enough to worry about.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So instead you meet strangers behind my back?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“By lying?”
Marco looked ashamed.
Then Alessandro spoke.
“What did Voss want?”
Marco's eyes hardened.
“A key.”
I turned.
“What key?”
“I don't know.”
“He said Dad hid one before he died. He thought I had it.”
I felt suddenly cold.
Our father had been a mechanic.
Quiet.
Ordinary.
He fixed old cars and complained about baseball.
He didn't hide mysterious keys.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I didn't know what he was talking about.”
“And he believed you?”
Marco shook his head.
“No.”
Alessandro stepped closer.
“What else did he say?”
Marco hesitated.
“He said if we found the key, we shouldn't give it to Salvatore.”
Alessandro's expression changed.
“Why?”
“Because Salvatore killed our father.”
The words slammed into me.
“No.”
Marco looked at me.
“Bella—”
“No.”
“That's what Voss said.”
“Our father had a heart attack.”
“Maybe he didn't.”
I backed toward the wall.
For twelve years, I'd accepted one version of our family history because there had never been a reason not to.
Now everything felt unstable.
Alessandro studied Marco.
“What exactly did your father do for a living?”
“He was a mechanic,” I said.
Marco looked away.
That was all it took.
I stared at him.
“What aren't you telling me?”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“Dad wasn't just a mechanic.”
I couldn't breathe.
“He repaired cars for private clients. Rich ones. Powerful ones.”
Alessandro went completely still.
“What was your father's first name?”
Marco answered.
“Giovanni.”
Alessandro's face lost color.
I noticed immediately.
“You knew him.”
He didn't answer.
“Alessandro.”
“Yes.”
My heart started pounding.
“How?”
He looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.
“Your father worked for my family.”
I stared at him.
“For how long?”
“Years.”
“What did he do?”
Alessandro's eyes shifted toward the hospital window.
Then back to me.
“He drove my mother the night she disappeared.”
Silence.
I felt the room tilt.
“What happened to her?”
His jaw tightened.
“We never found her.”
Marco looked confused.
I wasn't.
Because suddenly the question wasn't whether our father had known the Moretti family.
The question was why he'd hidden it from us.
And why Salvatore had allegedly killed him.
Then Marco reached beneath his pillow.
He pulled out a small brass key.
My breath stopped.
“You said you didn't have it.”
Marco looked at me.
“I lied.”
He placed it in my hand.
Engraved into the metal were two letters.
A.M.
Alessandro stared at them.
His face went white.
“What?” I whispered.
May you like
He looked at me.
“That key belonged to my mother.”
