Chapter 7 - THE NAME MY MOTHER KEPT HIDDEN
"Elena Mary Hayes."
I repeated the name aloud.
Roman stood beside me, holding the locket in his palm.
For nearly two years, he'd been my husband.
Now we were staring at something that made our marriage feel like the center of a story neither of us understood.
"Your sister was raised under my family's name," I said.
Roman nodded slowly.
"Maybe temporarily."
"Then why would my mother call us both her daughters?"
He didn't answer.
I took back the locket.
"I need to find my father."
Roman's expression tightened.
"Claire."
"No more sending men to ask questions. No more frightening people into silence."
"He may be involved in the convoy."
"Then we'll find out."
Roman studied me for a long moment.
"You're not going alone."
I almost argued.
Then I realized something.
He hadn't said I wasn't going.
He'd simply asked to come.
"Fine," I answered.
We found my father in the apartment above his old construction office in Clifton.
Thomas Hayes looked smaller than I remembered.
His gray hair had grown thin.
His hands trembled as he opened the door.
When he saw Roman, his face changed.
Then he noticed my stomach.
"Oh, Claire."
His voice broke.
"You're having a baby."
I stood motionless.
"You knew."
He lowered his eyes.
"Yes."
"How?"
"Someone showed me a photograph."
"Who?"
My father stepped aside.
"Come in."
The apartment smelled of coffee and old paper.
Family photographs lined a narrow shelf.
My mother smiled from almost every frame.
I noticed that several pictures had been turned facedown.
I picked one up.
It showed my parents standing beside a teenage girl at a county fair.
The girl had dark hair.
Roman's eyes.
I stared at her.
"Who is this?"
My father sat down heavily.
"Her name was Elena."
Roman moved closer.
"Was?"
My father looked at him.
"Is. I'm sorry. I haven't seen her in years."
I placed the photograph on the table.
"Tell us everything."
He closed his eyes.
"Your mother helped care for a premature baby after the fire at St. Agnes."
"Roman's sister."
"Yes."
"Did she raise her?"
"For a while."
"How long?"
My father rubbed his face.
"Almost four years."
The room went silent.
I felt suddenly unsteady.
"Where was I?"
"You weren't born yet."
I gripped the chair.
"Then Elena lived with you before I existed?"
He nodded.
"Your mother loved her."
Roman's jaw tightened.
"Why didn't she keep her?"
"Because people were looking for that little girl."
"Who?"
"Your father's people. Your uncle's people. Men who thought the child could give them control of the Bellandi estate."
My father looked at Roman.
"Your mother begged Mary to keep Elena safe. But after your mother died, it became impossible."
Roman stared at him.
"What happened?"
"We sent her to Margaret Doyle."
"And Marco?"
"Marco helped arrange it."
I felt anger rising.
"Then why did Mom warn Allison not to let him take Elena?"
My father looked startled.
"You know about that?"
"Yes."
He sighed.
"Because Marco was working for Roman's father. Mary couldn't know where his loyalty ended."
Roman looked away.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Then I asked the question I'd been afraid to ask.
"Was Elena legally adopted?"
My father nodded.
"By Margaret. Under the surname Doyle."
"Then why did Mom keep calling her a daughter?"
His eyes filled with tears.
"Because love doesn't disappear when paperwork changes."
The answer was simple.
And devastating.
I thought of my mother.
Her kindness.
The way she always left an extra place at Christmas dinner, saying unexpected guests should never feel unwelcome.
I'd assumed it was a habit.
Perhaps she'd been waiting for someone.
"Did Elena know about me?" I asked.
"Yes."
My chest tightened.
"Did she ever meet me?"
My father looked toward the photographs.
"Once."
"When?"
"Your fifth birthday."
I stared at him.
He stood and removed a photograph from a drawer.
There I was, sitting at a kitchen table.
Five years old.
A crooked paper crown on my head.
A birthday cake with pink frosting.
Beside me sat a teenage girl with dark hair.
She was smiling.
And holding my hand.
I remembered that birthday.
Not clearly.
But I remembered the girl.
I remembered calling her Nell.
"Nell," I whispered.
My father's eyes closed.
"That was what she asked you to call her."
Tears slid down my cheeks.
For years, I'd remembered Nell as a family friend who'd moved away.
Now I understood why my mother had cried whenever I asked about her.
"Why did she leave?"
My father sat down.
"She learned the truth about the Bellandis. She wanted to find Roman."
Roman turned sharply.
"Why didn't she?"
"Because Salvatore found her first."
The room went quiet.
"He promised to help her claim her father's inheritance," my father continued. "But he also told her Roman would see her as a threat."
Roman's expression hardened.
"That was a lie."
My father looked at him.
"Would you have believed a nineteen-year-old woman who appeared at your door claiming to be your sister?"
Roman didn't answer.
At nineteen, he'd already been running his father's operations.
He'd trusted almost nobody.
My father sighed.
"Elena didn't believe Salvatore completely. But she was frightened. She left New Jersey."
"Where did she go?"
"She studied accounting in Pennsylvania. Worked in hospitals. Built a life."
"And now?"
"She came back when your mother died, Claire."
I stared at him.
"Mom died four years ago."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because Elena asked me not to."
"Why?"
"She'd discovered the inheritance wasn't what Salvatore claimed."
Roman leaned forward.
"What was it?"
My father hesitated.
"An old family trust. It was supposed to support Elena and any children you might have."
I felt Roman become still.
"Any children?"
My father nodded.
"Your mother wanted both her children protected."
Roman stared at the table.
All those years, he'd believed his mother had died leaving him alone.
But she'd left provisions for a daughter he hadn't known existed.
And grandchildren he'd sworn never to have.
"Where is the trust?" Roman asked.
My father shook his head.
"That's the problem. Salvatore has been controlling the foundation that administers it."
Roman stood.
"Then he had a reason to keep Elena hidden."
"And a reason to fear my baby," I added.
My father looked at my stomach.
His expression changed.
"Claire, you need to listen carefully."
He reached into his pocket.
From it, he withdrew a small silver key.
"The storage unit in Scranton. Your mother kept everything there."
"Everything?"
"The original letters. The records. Something that proves who has been using the trust."
Roman leaned forward.
"Why didn't you bring them to the authorities?"
My father swallowed.
"Because I made a terrible mistake."
I stared at him.
"What mistake?"
He looked at me.
"When Salvatore threatened to ruin my business, I agreed to something."
Roman's face hardened.
"Our marriage."
My father nodded.
"I thought marrying you into the family would protect you."
"You sold my freedom."
His eyes filled.
"Yes."
I stepped backward.
"I called you every week, Dad. I told you I was lonely."
"I know."
"You let me believe you had no choice."
"I was ashamed."
The words sounded painfully small.
Then he looked at Roman.
"But there's something worse."
Roman narrowed his eyes.
"What?"
My father's voice trembled.
"Salvatore didn't only want Claire married to you."
He reached beneath the table and brought out an old envelope.
Inside was a typed instruction dated two weeks before our wedding.
He handed it to Roman.
I read over his shoulder.
Marriage must be completed before the beneficiary amendment takes effect.
Roman looked up.
"What amendment?"
My father whispered, "The one that would give your first child control of the trust when they turn twenty-one."
My stomach tightened.
Roman stared at the paper.
Then at me.
And finally at my father.
"Claire's pregnancy didn't create the danger," he said slowly.
My father shook his head.
"No."
Roman's voice became barely audible.
"The marriage did."
My father looked at me with tears running down his cheeks.
"Claire, Salvatore didn't arrange your marriage to protect you."
May you like
He swallowed.
"He arranged it because he knew you'd eventually become pregnant—and when you did, someone would have a reason to make sure your baby was never born."
