Chapter 8 - The Boy I Thought Was My Cousin
Daniel Morgan had lived with my grandmother for almost six years.
At least, that was what I'd been told.
I remembered him as a quiet little boy who rarely smiled.
He loved drawing.
He hated thunderstorms.
And whenever strangers approached, he hid behind my grandmother's chair.
Then, one summer, he disappeared.
Grandma told me he'd gone to live with distant relatives.
I never saw him again.
Now Marco was showing me a photograph of the same boy beside a house connected to Isabella Bellini.
My hands trembled.
"Daniel could be Lorenzo's son."
Marco studied me.
"How old was he when you knew him?"
"About four when he arrived. Maybe ten when he left."
"That matches the timeline."
I felt sick.
"Why would Grandma keep him?"
Marco shook his head.
"We need to find out."
When Lorenzo returned, I told him everything.
He listened without interrupting.
Then he sat down.
"Your grandmother raised my son?"
"Maybe."
His expression softened.
"Lily, did she treat him well?"
I swallowed.
"She loved him."
For the first time that evening, Lorenzo looked relieved.
"Tell me about him."
I smiled through tears.
"He liked building little wooden boats. Grandma kept them on the windowsill."
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
"My father taught me to build boats when I was a boy."
I continued.
"He used to follow me everywhere. Whenever I went to the creek, he'd insist on coming."
Lorenzo's lips trembled.
"Was he happy?"
I hesitated.
"Sometimes. But he always seemed like he was waiting for someone."
Silence settled between us.
Then Lorenzo asked:
"Do you have any photographs?"
I nodded.
"At my apartment."
He looked at Marco.
"Bring them here."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Ask me first."
Lorenzo stopped.
Then he looked at me.
"May we?"
I smiled faintly.
"Yes."
That tiny moment meant more than he realized.
He was learning.
Not every problem needed an order.
Not every person existed to obey him.
That night, I showed him photographs from my childhood.
In one, Daniel stood beside me holding a wooden boat.
Lorenzo stared at it.
His eyes filled.
"That's my son."
I watched him trace the boy's face with one finger.
Then Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
"Boss, we've located Daniel."
Lorenzo stood.
"Where?"
Marco hesitated.
"He's in a juvenile rehabilitation center outside Albany."
My stomach dropped.
"Why?"
Marco looked at the document on his phone.
"Because six months ago, he was arrested under another name."
Lorenzo's face hardened.
"What name?"
Marco swallowed.
"Daniel Bellini."
"And the charges?"
May you like
Marco looked directly at Lorenzo.
"Attempted murder."
