Chapter 2 - THE FAMILY PHOTOGRAPH THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
Isabella stared at Rosa DeLuca.
Her grandmother's sister?
That couldn't be possible.
Grandma Lucia had always said she had no living relatives.
And Isabella's mother, Adriana, had died when Isabella was fourteen.
A car accident.
A rainy highway.
A funeral attended by fewer than thirty people.
Those were the facts she'd grown up believing.
“What do you mean?” Isabella whispered.
Rosa looked toward Marco.
“Show her.”
Marco hesitated.
“Mamma, perhaps we should—”
“Show her.”
There was a firmness in Rosa's voice that made even Marco DeLuca obey.
He removed his phone and opened a photograph.
It showed a young woman standing outside a hospital, holding a baby wrapped in a yellow blanket.
The woman looked exactly like Isabella's mother.
But beside her stood Rosa.
And behind them was a man Isabella recognized.
Her father.
Enzo Romano.
The photograph was dated August 18.
One day after Isabella's birth.
“Where did you get that?” Isabella asked.
Marco studied her expression.
“My mother kept it.”
“Why?”
Rosa answered softly.
“Because I was there when you were born.”
Isabella felt her knees weaken.
She pulled out an empty chair and sat down.
For the first time in two years at Bellavita, she forgot she was supposed to be working.
Rosa reached toward her.
“Your mother was my niece. Lucia was my younger sister.”
Isabella swallowed.
“Then why didn't she tell me about you?”
Rosa's expression filled with grief.
“Because someone made sure we stayed apart.”
“Who?”
Before Rosa could answer, the restaurant manager approached.
“Isabella, table six has been waiting fifteen minutes.”
She stood immediately.
“I'm sorry. I'll—”
Marco turned.
“Mr. Ferraro.”
The manager froze.
“Yes, Mr. DeLuca?”
“Her tables will be covered for the next twenty minutes.”
Ferraro glanced at Isabella.
His face tightened.
“Of course.”
Isabella didn't like how easily her employer obeyed.
Marco noticed.
“You can refuse to speak with us,” he said quietly. “Nobody is forcing you.”
She looked at Rosa.
At the trembling hands.
The tearful eyes.
The photograph.
Then she sat down again.
“Twenty minutes.”
Rosa gave a fragile smile.
“That's enough.”
She opened her handbag and removed an old envelope.
Inside was a letter.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Isabella recognized the looping capital A immediately.
Her mother's handwriting.
Her heart began pounding.
“Where did you get that?”
“Adriana sent it to me before she died.”
Isabella unfolded the paper.
Dear Aunt Rosa,
If anything happens to me, please find Isabella.
Her hands trembled.
Enzo knows what I've discovered. He's frightened, but I don't know whether he's frightened for us or for himself.
Isabella felt sick.
She continued reading.
The savings account isn't the only thing he's been hiding.
May you like
Then came the final sentence.
“If my daughter ever tells you that Enzo remarried a woman named Marietta, please don't let Isabella return to that house.”
