Chapter 5 - THE MOTHER WHO NEVER DIED
Harper hadn't believed in miracles since the day two police officers arrived at her apartment with her mother's death certificate.
Now, sitting in a hospital bed eleven years later, she was staring at evidence that Elena Monroe might still be alive.
"Find her," Harper whispered.
Gabriel studied the surveillance photograph.
"We need to establish who she is first."
"That's my mother."
"Harper—"
"I know her hands."
He didn't argue.
Instead, he called Leo.
"Pull every camera recording from the property. Find the woman in the beige coat."
Harper gripped the blanket.
"Why would she leave us?"
Gabriel had no answer.
By morning, he had something worse.
The hospital's head nurse entered with a sealed envelope.
"This was delivered for Ms. Monroe."
Inside was a handwritten note.
Your mother tried to protect you. Don't make her sacrifice meaningless.
Below the message was an address in Oak Park.
No signature.
No explanation.
Harper looked at Gabriel.
"I'm going."
"Not alone."
They waited until Harper was medically cleared for discharge. Gabriel arranged licensed private protection, and a detective investigating Noah's abduction accompanied them.
The address led to a modest house with pale-blue shutters and an overgrown garden.
An elderly woman answered the door.
When she saw Harper's face, she dropped her keys.
"Elena?"
Harper's throat tightened.
"I'm her daughter."
The woman stepped backward.
"Oh, sweetheart."
Her name was Margaret Bell.
She had once worked alongside Elena and Victoria.
Inside, the house smelled of cinnamon and old books. Photographs covered the walls.
Margaret led them to a locked cabinet.
"I promised your mother I would give you this if anyone came looking."
She removed a wooden box.
Inside were photographs, bank records, and a faded child's drawing.
Harper recognized the drawing immediately.
A yellow house beneath an enormous purple sun.
She had made it when she was five.
On the back, written in Elena's handwriting, were the words:
For my brave Harper. Never stop believing in tomorrow.
Harper pressed it to her heart.
Margaret began to cry.
"Your mother didn't abandon you."
"Then where is she?"
Margaret glanced toward Gabriel.
"Her life depended on staying hidden."
"From whom?"
The elderly woman looked at the Rossi family crest on Gabriel's jacket.
"From your father."
Gabriel stared at her.
"My father is dead."
Margaret slowly shook her head.
"No, Gabriel."
Then she opened a photograph taken only six months earlier.
It showed his father standing outside a private hospital in Switzerland.
Alive.
May you like
Smiling.
And holding Elena Monroe's hand.
