Chapter 8 - MY MOTHER’S DOOR
I went to Rockport without Dante.
He hated it.
I could tell because he agreed too quickly.
“I’ll stay two blocks away.”
“No.”
“Alina.”
“You said you would respect what I wanted.”
His jaw tightened.
“This may be dangerous.”
“So was growing up with half my life hidden from me.”
That silenced him.
I regretted it immediately.
Not because it was untrue.
Because some truths can be used like knives, and I had aimed carefully.
Dante looked toward Leo.
“I’ll stay in town.”
“Fine.”
“And two guards.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“One.”
“Two dressed badly enough that you won’t notice them.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
He smiled.
We were becoming something.
I did not have a name for it yet.
The Rockport address led to a small gray cottage with white trim.
Ocean behind it.
Wind snapping through tall grass.
A brass bell hung beside the door.
Bells touching the sea.
Of course.
I climbed the steps alone.
For thirty-one years my mother had been the person I trusted more than anyone alive.
For eight months I had imagined her injured.
Trapped.
Dead.
Angry.
Lost.
I had never imagined her hiding from me on purpose.
My hand hovered over the bell.
Then the door opened.
Marisol Valdez stood there.
Alive.
Thinner.
Gray showing heavily in her hair.
Her eyes found mine.
The grocery bag in her hands hit the floor.
“Lena.”
I did not hug her.
That surprised both of us.
She started crying.
I stood perfectly still.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
“You’re alive.”
“I’m sorry.”
Eight months of grief exploded.
“You don’t get to start with sorry!”
She flinched.
Good.
I hated thinking that.
“I filed reports. I went to hospitals. I identified a coat they found near the river because police thought it might be yours.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
Her face collapsed.
“I watched from far away.”
That hurt worse.
“You watched me?”
“To make sure no one followed.”
“You watched me suffer.”
“Yes.”
The honesty stopped me.
She bent to pick up the groceries.
Her hands shook.
“Come inside.”
“No.”
“Lena—”
“My name is Alina.”
Pain crossed her face.
“That was cruel,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Calling me Lena all those years.”
“I loved that name.”
“You knew where it came from.”
“Yes.”
“Dante knew it.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“You saw him.”
“Yes.”
Fear hit her instantly.
“Is he here?”
“In town.”
She stepped backward.
“You brought him.”
“No. I left him where you asked.”
Marisol stared at me.
Then whispered, “He found you because of Leo.”
It was not a question.
“How did you know?”
“Sofia said the baby grabbed anything with a blue star.”
My heart twisted.
“You knew my sister.”
Marisol closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“My sister.”
“Yes.”
“You let me find out she existed after she was already dead.”
Her tears fell.
“I thought I had more time.”
“Everyone keeps saying they were protecting me.”
“I know.”
“I am starting to hate that word.”
“You should.”
That was my mother.
No excuses when there were none available.
I stepped inside.
The cottage was sparse.
Temporary.
A kettle.
Two mugs.
My mother’s old Bible.
And a photograph of Sofia holding Leo.
I picked it up.
“Tell me everything.”
Marisol sat.
For the next hour, she destroyed three decades of lies.
Dante had been my father.
No question in her mind.
They had been young.
Foolish.
Wildly in love.
Dante had never hit her.
Never threatened me.
But his father had.
Vittorio Rosselli had told her the baby would be raised “properly” and she would disappear.
Carlo helped her flee.
“Carlo saved us?” I asked.
“At first.”
That mattered.
“He lied to Dante.”
“Yes.”
“Why not contact him later?”
Marisol looked down.
“Because I saw what he became after we left.”
“What?”
“A man trying to prove nobody could ever make him powerless again.”
That sounded painfully possible.
“I watched from newspapers. Court reports. Rumors. He grew harder.”
“So you decided for me.”
“Yes.”
“Was that right?”
“No.”
She said it immediately.
“I thought it was. For years.”
“What changed?”
“Sofia.”
My throat tightened.
“She found you.”
“She found Sister Catherine first. Then me.”
“Was she angry?”
“At Dante? At Carlo? At everyone.”
Marisol almost smiled.
“She was definitely your sister.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then cried again.
“What did she want?”
“To meet you.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“Because she discovered Paul was still inside Dante’s security.”
Marisol’s face hardened.
“Paul had worked for Vittorio. Sofia believed he still controlled corrupt accounts Dante thought were gone.”
“Carlo admitted keeping some.”
“Yes. Carlo was guilty of that. But Paul was using those routes for more.”
“What?”
“Blackmail. Protection payments. People trafficking through port contracts.”
My stomach turned.
“Did Dante know?”
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because Sofia was sure.”
That mattered more than I wanted it to.
“She spent a year quietly checking. Carlo discovered part of it. Paul convinced him Sofia was trying to expose the whole family.”
“So Carlo followed her.”
“Yes.”
“And Paul took Carlo’s car.”
Marisol nodded.
“They boxed Sofia in.”
“Both?”
“Carlo tried to make her stop. Paul came from the other side.”
I went cold.
“Carlo lied.”
“Not exactly.”
My mother’s expression turned sad.
“He did not strike her car.”
“Paul did.”
“Yes.”
“But Carlo was there.”
“Yes.”
“Did he help?”
“After the crash.”
My heart hammered.
“What did he do?”
“Carlo climbed down the embankment. Paul did too. I was behind them in another car.”
“You saw everything.”
“Most of it.”
“Sofia was alive.”
My mother started crying.
“Yes.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“I held her hand.”
I covered my mouth.
Marisol wept openly now.
“She knew she was dying. She told me Leo was with Dante. She said that was the only reason she wasn’t afraid for him.”
That shattered something inside me.
Even after discovering what her father had been, Sofia trusted what he had become.
“What did she give you?”
Marisol stood.
She walked to a cupboard.
From the back, she removed a small velvet pouch.
Inside was a woman’s gold bracelet.
The clasp had dried dark stains around it.
Sofia’s blood.
I swallowed.
“What is it?”
“Open the clasp.”
I did.
A narrow compartment slid out.
Inside was a tiny folded strip of paper.
Numbers.
Dates.
Initials.
“Not the ledger,” Marisol said. “The index.”
“To what?”
“Every account Paul was hiding.”
I stared.
“This can prove it?”
“With the business records Carlo still has.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“Because Paul had police.”
“He doesn’t now.”
“No.”
Her eyes met mine.
“That’s why I was preparing to come back.”
I thought of the nun.
“Someone found you at St. Catherine’s House.”
Marisol’s face changed.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“One of Dante’s guards.”
“Which one?”
“I never learned his name.”
She described him.
Tall.
Broken nose.
Red hair at the temples.
My stomach dropped.
I had seen him.
At Aurelia.
One of the two men who entered before Dante.
“He’s with Dante now.”
Marisol stood instantly.
“Where?”
“In town.”
“With Leo.”
Every nerve in my body ignited.
I ran for the door.
My mother grabbed her coat.
“Alina.”
I turned.
Her face was white.
“That guard worked for Paul before he worked for Dante.”
My heart slammed.
Dante thought Paul was contained.
But Paul had left someone close enough to touch Leo.
We drove back toward town.
Two blocks from the cottage, I saw Dante’s SUV parked beside a small café.
The rear door was open.
Dante stood in the street.
Alone.
No guards.
No Leo.
When he saw me, his expression told me everything.
The man who had terrified an entire restaurant looked completely helpless.
He held Leo’s tiny blue-star necklace in one hand.
“Alina.”
I stopped breathing.
Dante looked at my mother.
May you like
Then back at me.
“He took Leo.”
