Chapter 5 - THE MOTHER WHO NEVER DIED
Alessandro watched the security footage five times.
Each time, his expression grew colder.
His mother had vanished twenty-nine years earlier.
He'd been nine.
His father told him she'd died abroad.
No body.
No funeral.
Only silence.
Now she was alive.
And apparently treating my brother under another name.
“Why would she hide from you?” I asked.
He didn't answer.
Vincent Gallo did.
“Because somebody made her.”
Alessandro turned.
“Or because she chose to.”
His voice was bitter.
I recognized that bitterness.
It sounded like abandonment.
I sat beside him.
“You don't know that.”
“She had twenty-nine years.”
“So did your enemies.”
He looked at me.
I continued.
“If your mother wrote that letter asking my father to protect a child, she was afraid.”
His eyes dropped.
“For who?”
“That child.”
We looked at each other.
The same question hung between us.
Who was the child?
Vincent Gallo returned with information.
Dr. Elena Marconi's identity had only existed for eighteen years.
Before that, nothing.
No university records.
No birth certificate.
No medical training under that name.
Someone had built her identity from scratch.
Alessandro studied the documents.
“Where did they take Marco?”
“We tracked the hospital vehicle to an abandoned clinic outside Joliet.”
I stood.
“Let's go.”
Alessandro looked at me.
“No.”
My anger exploded.
“Absolutely not.”
“Isabella.”
“That is my brother.”
“It could be a trap.”
“I don't care.”
“I do.”
The room went silent.
He seemed surprised by his own words.
So was I.
He stepped closer.
“Someone shot at you tonight.”
“They shot at you too.”
“I'm used to it.”
“Well, that's deeply unhealthy.”
His mouth almost curved.
Then he became serious.
“I won't let you walk into danger.”
“You don't get to decide that.”
“I can make sure you don't leave.”
I stared at him.
“You wouldn't.”
His eyes narrowed.
I stepped closer until we were almost touching.
“Try it.”
Vincent Gallo muttered, “I'm going to pretend I'm not here.”
Alessandro looked down at me.
“You really don't know when to be afraid.”
“I know exactly when to be afraid.”
“Then act like it.”
“I am.”
“How?”
“My hands are shaking.”
I held them up.
They were.
Then I looked at him.
“But I'm still going.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Finally, he sighed.
“Fine.”
I smiled.
“That must have hurt.”
“Don't enjoy it.”
The abandoned clinic was dark when we arrived.
No cars.
No lights.
The front door was unlocked.
Inside, medical equipment sat beneath white sheets.
I whispered Marco's name.
Nothing.
Then a light appeared at the end of the hallway.
A woman stepped forward.
Dr. Marconi.
Alessandro stopped.
She looked at him.
For the first time, the feared mafia boss became a little boy.
“Mom?”
Her face crumpled.
“Alessandro.”
He didn't move.
She did.
She crossed the hallway and wrapped her arms around him.
For one second, he remained stiff.
Then his hands slowly lifted.
He held her.
Hard.
I looked away.
But then I remembered Marco.
“Where is my brother?”
Elena pulled back.
Her expression changed.
“He's safe.”
“Where?”
She looked at Alessandro.
“Before I tell you, you need to know what Vincent wants.”
Alessandro's jaw tightened.
“What?”
Elena reached into her coat.
She pulled out a photograph.
It showed my father holding a newborn baby.
On the back was written one name.
Isabella.
My breath stopped.
“That isn't me.”
Elena looked at me.
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
“My father wasn't holding me as a baby. I have pictures from the hospital.”
“Those were staged.”
My knees weakened.
Alessandro caught my arm.
“What are you saying?” he asked.
Elena looked at me with tears in her eyes.
“Giovanni Rossi wasn't your biological father.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Then who was?”
Elena slowly looked at Alessandro.
May you like
And suddenly I knew the answer was going to destroy everything.
“Your father,” she whispered.
