Chapter 1 - THE BABY IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Elias leaned his head back against the stone wall.
His wrists were raw where the zip-ties had cut him.
Atlas stayed pressed against his knee.
And Vanessa looked as if the rain had frozen inside her veins.
Luca held the photograph between two fingers.
“Whose child is that?”
Elias answered before Vanessa could.
“Your father’s.”
Nobody moved.
For one second, I thought I had misunderstood him.
Michael Moretti had been Luca’s father.
The man Luca had buried eleven years earlier.
The man whose portrait hung above the study fireplace.
The man Vanessa had always described as a dangerous relic from a world she wanted nothing to do with.
Luca stared at Elias.
“My father had a child with Vanessa?”
Vanessa made a strangled sound.
“No.”
Elias looked at her.
“Then tell him the truth.”
“I was twenty-one.”
“That is not the question.”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
Luca stepped closer.
“Was the baby my father’s?”
Her mouth trembled.
“Yes.”
The word seemed to drain all sound from the shed.
Luca turned away.
His hand went to the back of his neck.
I had seen him angry before.
I had seen him cold.
This was different.
This was a man trying to fit a new fact into a family history that no longer had room for it.
Vanessa whispered:
“I didn’t know who he really was when I met him.”
Luca turned.
“You knew his name.”
“He used Michael Russo.”
“That was his mother’s name.”
“I didn’t know Moretti.”
“When?”
“Thirteen years ago.”
Luca laughed once.
No humor.
“You were sleeping with my father thirteen years ago.”
Vanessa flinched.
“We were together for six months.”
“And then?”
“My father found out.”
Victor Bellini.
The name changed the air.
Vanessa’s father had been a businessman, political donor, and quiet enemy of the Morettis for decades.
At least that was the story everyone knew.
Elias coughed.
“Victor knew before she did.”
Vanessa snapped:
“Stop.”
“No.”
Elias looked at Luca.
“Michael was investigating Bellini accounts.”
Luca’s face tightened.
“What accounts?”
“Construction money. Judges. union officials. police.”
“Why was Vanessa involved?”
“She wasn’t at first.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
Elias continued.
“Michael met her under another name because he was trying to get close to Victor’s books.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“You said he loved me.”
“He did.”
“Then why lie to me?”
“Because your father would have killed him sooner.”
Luca looked at Vanessa.
“And the baby?”
Her hand moved unconsciously toward her stomach.
Long empty years.
“Our son was born at St. Catherine’s.”
“Name?”
She whispered:
“Gabriel.”
Luca stopped.
His father’s middle name.
“Where is Gabriel?”
Vanessa looked toward Elias.
That was when I knew she did not know.
Elias answered.
“Alive.”
Vanessa collapsed against the potting table.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“My father told me he died.”
“Victor lied.”
Vanessa covered her face.
Her shoulders shook.
Luca’s expression changed, but he did not move toward her.
Not yet.
Elias continued.
“The baby was taken from the hospital six hours after birth.”
“By who?” Luca asked.
“Victor’s people.”
“Why?”
“Because Michael had already copied enough records to destroy Bellini.”
“So Victor took his grandson as leverage.”
“Yes.”
Vanessa whispered:
“I saw a tiny coffin.”
Elias closed his eyes.
“Empty.”
She stared at him.
“You knew?”
“Later.”
“You let me mourn him.”
“I was trying to find him.”
“For twelve years?”
“Eleven.”
He looked at Luca.
“Michael found Gabriel first.”
Luca went still.
“When?”
“Two weeks before Michael died.”
Everything changed again.
“My father knew his son was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell Vanessa?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Elias’s face hardened.
“Because he did not trust her.”
Vanessa laughed through tears.
“Of course.”
“He thought Victor still controlled you.”
“He did.”
“That is why Michael hid the boy.”
“Where?”
Elias looked at me.
Again.
Why me?
“Emma knows the place.”
I stepped back.
“No, I don’t.”
He nodded toward the rosary in my hand.
“Your mother did.”
My stomach dropped.
“My mother died three years ago.”
“I know.”
“How do you know her?”
“Margaret Carter worked at St. Catherine’s.”
I froze.
My mother had been a night nurse.
She rarely spoke about old patients.
Elias continued.
“She helped move Gabriel.”
“No.”
“She did.”
“Why?”
“Because Michael asked her.”
I looked at Luca.
He looked as stunned as I felt.
Vanessa lowered her hands.
“Your mother had my son?”
“I don’t know.”
Elias nodded.
“For three nights.”
My knees weakened.
I grabbed the edge of a shelf.
Mom.
My mother.
The woman who taught me to iron pillowcases and never lie to children.
She had hidden a kidnapped baby from two crime families.
Elias said:
“She took him to a convent outside Joliet.”
“What convent?”
“St. Agnes.”
Luca turned to Marco.
“Call.”
Marco stepped outside.
The rain pounded the roof.
Vanessa stared at me.
“Did your mother ever say the name Gabriel?”
I searched memory.
Hospital stories.
Old Christmas cards.
One name.
Gabe.
Mom sometimes donated clothes to “Gabe’s place.”
I thought it was a shelter.
“She used to send boxes.”
Vanessa stopped breathing.
“What boxes?”
“Children’s clothes.”
Luca looked at me.
“For how long?”
“Years.”
“Until when?”
“Until she got sick.”
Marco returned.
“St. Agnes closed six years ago.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“Records?”
“Transferred to the Archdiocese.”
Elias shook his head.
“Not church records.”
“What?”
“Margaret kept the real ones.”
I stared.
“Where?”
“Blue recipe box.”
My heart stopped.
Mom’s kitchen.
A small blue metal recipe box sat on the top shelf above the refrigerator.
I had kept it after she died.
I never opened it.
She hated recipes.
Cooked everything from memory.
Why did she own a recipe box?
I whispered:
“It’s in my apartment.”
Luca looked at Marco.
“We go now.”
Vanessa stood.
“I’m coming.”
Luca looked at her.
“No.”
“My son.”
“If he is your son.”
Her face broke.
“You think I’m lying?”
“I think everyone has lied to me for eleven years.”
Elias whispered:
“She comes.”
Luca turned.
“Why?”
“Because Margaret’s instructions require both of you.”
“Both?”
Elias nodded.
“Michael made sure neither family could take Gabriel alone.”
A safeguard.
Or another trap.
We left the shed.
Atlas refused to leave Elias.
Marco helped the old man into the house.
Mrs. Carter called a doctor.
Twenty minutes later, we were in Luca’s car heading toward my apartment.
Vanessa sat across from me.
Her red gown was covered in mud.
No diamonds now.
No control.
She looked small.
At my apartment, I climbed onto a chair and pulled down the blue recipe box.
Dust covered the lid.
Inside were no recipes.
Only envelopes.
Photographs.
A baptism certificate.
And one letter addressed:
EMMA — IF MICHAEL MORETTI’S FAMILY EVER COMES ASKING ABOUT GABRIEL.
My hands shook.
Luca stood beside me.
“Open it.”
I did.
Mom’s handwriting filled the first page.
Emma,
If you are reading this, then a boy I promised to protect is in danger.
His name is Gabriel Michael Moretti.
His father was Michael.
His mother is Vanessa Bellini.
Vanessa began sobbing.
Luca closed his eyes.
Mom continued.
Do not give Gabriel to either family simply because blood tells them he belongs there.
Make them prove they want the child, not what the child can unlock.
I stopped.
“What can he unlock?”
The baptism certificate fell from the box.
On the back was a handwritten number.
A bank.
A vault.
And beneath it:
THE MICHAEL MORETTI TRUST — BENEFICIARY: GABRIEL.
Luca stared.
“How much?”
We did not know.
Then Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He looked at Luca.
“Boss, Elias is gone.”
Luca froze.
“What do you mean gone?”
“Doctor arrived. Mrs. Carter went for water. Elias disappeared through the service hall.”
“Atlas?”
“Gone too.”
Vanessa whispered:
“He ran.”
I looked at Mom’s letter again.
A final sentence appeared at the bottom.
If Elias finds you first, do not follow him.
He is not the only man who has been pretending to be dead.
I stared at Luca.
Then at Vanessa.
Because Michael Moretti was dead.
We knew that.
May you like
So Mom had been warning me about someone else.
And somewhere in Chicago, Elias was moving toward him.
