Chapter 3 - THE SECOND CHILD IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
“Two daughters?”
I heard myself repeat the words, but they didn't sound like mine.
Vanessa stood near the fireplace, her face drained of color.
Luca's eyes remained fixed on her.
“Explain.”
She swallowed.
“Maria gave birth to twins.”
My hand flew to the necklace around my throat.
For twenty-two years, I'd lived with a space in my history.
I knew almost nothing about the first three years of my life.
I'd imagined a mother who couldn't afford to keep me.
A father who had never wanted me.
But never a sister.
Never another little girl who might have been waiting somewhere, asking the same questions.
“Where is she?” I whispered.
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Luca took a step forward.
“Don't lie to her again.”
“I'm not!”
Her voice cracked.
“My father told me there were two girls. That's all.”
Rose made a sound from her wheelchair.
I knelt beside her.
“Mrs. Moretti, is it true?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
She nodded.
Then she took my silver pendant between two trembling fingers.
“Two,” she whispered.
Dr. Reed reminded Luca that Rose needed hospital care.
This time, Luca didn't argue.
He arranged for Daniel to accompany them and promised to join his mother as soon as the police had secured the evidence.
Rose refused to release my hand.
“I'm coming with you,” I told her.
Luca looked at me.
“You don't have to work tonight, Hannah.”
“I know.”
The words surprised us both.
I'd spent eleven months asking permission for everything.
Permission to leave early.
Permission to call my sick mother.
Permission to sit beside Rose when her hands trembled.
Now I was making a choice.
“I want to stay with her.”
Luca nodded.
“Then we'll go together.”
Before leaving, Daniel carefully photographed every item from the suitcase.
The old hospital bracelet.
The railway ticket.
The torn blue cloth.
Maria's handwritten statement.
And the photograph of Maria holding a newborn baby.
I studied the picture again.
Something bothered me.
The baby's face was mostly hidden beneath a knitted white blanket.
But Maria's expression wasn't joyful.
She looked frightened.
On the back, someone had written a date.
June 14.
My birthday.
And underneath it:
Hannah — first photograph.
“First?” I whispered.
Luca looked over my shoulder.
“What?”
“If she had twins, why would someone write that this was my first photograph? Wouldn't they simply write our names?”
Vanessa spoke from across the room.
“Because your mother was trying to keep the babies separate.”
I turned.
“What?”
She pressed her lips together.
“My father said one child was sick.”
I stared at her.
“Sick how?”
“I don't know.”
“Vanessa, please. I'm not asking you to protect anyone. I'm asking you to tell me about my family.”
For a moment, she looked almost human.
Then she whispered, “One girl was supposed to stay with the Morettis. The other was going with Maria.”
Luca's expression changed.
“Why would my family take one of Maria's children?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“That part my father never explained.”
An officer arrived to speak with Vanessa.
As she followed him into the adjoining room, she turned back toward me.
“Hannah?”
I looked up.
“Your mother didn't abandon you.”
My eyes filled.
Vanessa's voice became quieter.
“She thought she was saving you.”
Then she disappeared through the doorway.
At the hospital, Rose was examined and treated for a head injury and wrist bruising.
A scan showed no acute bleeding, and Dr. Reed recommended observation.
Luca remained beside her bed.
I sat near the window.
The silver button rested in my palm.
After nearly an hour, Rose woke from a brief sleep.
She looked around until she found me.
“Hannah.”
I moved closer.
“Yes?”
She touched my necklace.
Then pointed to the button.
“Open.”
I frowned.
“Open what?”
Her fingers moved weakly toward the pendant.
I looked down.
I'd worn the little silver heart for as long as I could remember.
My adoptive mother, Carol Collins, had always told me it came from my birth family.
She'd never mentioned anything hidden inside it.
I turned the pendant over.
Along the right edge was a barely visible seam.
Luca leaned closer.
“May I?”
I hesitated, then unclasped the chain.
He examined the pendant beneath the bedside lamp.
“There might be a hinge.”
He used the tip of a clean wooden toothpick from the hospital hospitality tray to press a tiny indentation.
Nothing happened.
Rose shook her head.
“Star.”
I looked at the button.
Then noticed the engraved star wasn't merely decorative.
A tiny raised point protruded from its center.
Luca pressed the button against the pendant.
A soft click followed.
The heart opened.
Inside lay a small folded square of paper.
My hands began shaking.
I unfolded it carefully.
The writing was faded but legible.
If my daughters ever find each other, tell them I loved them both.
Beneath the sentence were two names.
Hannah.
Hope.
I covered my mouth.
“Hope.”
For the first time in my life, I knew my sister's name.
Rose began crying.
Luca handed me a tissue.
I barely noticed.
“Do you know where Hope is?” I asked Rose.
She nodded.
I leaned closer.
“Please tell me.”
Rose struggled.
“Safe.”
“Where?”
She squeezed my fingers.
“Carol.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Carol Collins.
My adoptive mother.
The woman who had raised me.
Who had held me through childhood fevers and taught me to braid my hair.
Who now lived in a small Chicago apartment while undergoing cancer treatment.
“Carol knows about Hope?”
Rose closed her eyes.
Then whispered:
“Carol... promised.”
I stood so suddenly that my chair scraped against the floor.
Luca looked up.
“Hannah?”
“My mother knew?”
I felt as though the room were tilting.
“Carol always told me she didn't know anything about my biological family.”
Luca rose.
“There may be an explanation.”
“Then why did she lie?”
I reached for my phone.
My fingers shook so badly that I entered the wrong number twice.
Carol answered on the fourth ring.
“Sweetheart? Is everything all right?”
I tried to speak.
Nothing came.
“Hannah?”
Finally, I whispered, “Mom, did I have a twin sister?”
There was silence.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Silence.
Then I heard Carol begin to cry.
“Oh, Hannah.”
My knees weakened.
“You knew?”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“Where is she?”
Carol took a ragged breath.
“Honey, please don't ask me that over the phone.”
“Mom, where is Hope?”
Another silence followed.
Then Carol said something I never expected.
“She's been living less than twenty miles from you.”
I gripped the edge of Rose's hospital bed.
“Where?”
Carol's voice broke.
“Hannah, there's something worse you need to know.”
“What?”
“Hope came to see me last Thursday.”
My heart began pounding.
“And?”
“She had a picture of you.”
I couldn't breathe.
Carol continued through her tears.
“She said she was afraid because the people who took her were looking for you again.”
May you like
Then came the words that made the hospital room go cold.
“And she said Luca Moretti's father wasn't the man who separated you.”
