Chapter 6 - THE MAID'S MOTHER
“You knew my wife?”
Alessandro's question was quiet.
That made it worse.
I stood in the abandoned clinic with my mother's photograph in one hand and Elena's note in the other.
“No,” I whispered.
“You've worked in my house for eleven months.”
“Yes.”
“You've cared for my daughter every day.”
“Yes.”
“And now I discover your mother was involved in Elena's disappearance.”
I swallowed.
“I didn't know.”
Alessandro stared at me.
For several seconds, I could see him struggling between two instincts.
One told him to trust me.
The other told him he'd been betrayed by nearly everyone he loved.
“Then why did Elena write that sentence?” he asked.
I looked at the note.
THE WOMAN WHO HAS BEEN TAKING CARE OF MY DAUGHTER.
“Maybe she didn't mean me.”
“Who else?”
I thought about Giuseppe.
About Lily's grandmother.
About the women who had cared for her before I arrived.
Then I remembered something.
“My mother used to work as a private caregiver.”
Alessandro frowned.
“She was a nurse.”
“She stopped working in hospitals years ago. After she developed heart problems, she took private patients whenever she was well enough.”
Matteo shifted against the cabinet.
“Margaret Bennett looked after Elena.”
I turned toward him.
“When?”
“After the clinic.”
My heart pounded.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she know Elena survived?”
“Yes.”
I felt something inside me break.
My mother had spent years teaching me that honesty mattered.
She'd raised me alone after my father died.
She'd worked long hours.
She'd told me never to be ashamed of earning an honest living.
And now I was learning she'd hidden something enormous.
“Why didn't she tell me?” I whispered.
Matteo looked at me sadly.
“Because Vittorio threatened everyone involved.”
Before I could answer, Daniel returned.
“The ambulance is outside.”
Matteo tried to stand.
Alessandro reached for him.
Matteo flinched.
For a moment, the brothers looked like strangers.
Then Alessandro put an arm beneath his shoulder.
“You're going to the hospital.”
Matteo looked surprised.
“After what I did?”
“We're not finished discussing what you did.”
Alessandro helped him up.
“But you're still my brother.”
Matteo's eyes filled with tears.
That was the first small sign that this family might still be capable of healing.
Back at the mansion, I went straight to Lily.
She was asleep on the sitting-room sofa, wrapped in a blanket.
Giuseppe sat nearby.
He looked exhausted.
“Is she all right?” I whispered.
“She asked for you three times.”
I sat beside her.
She stirred.
“Claire?”
“I'm here.”
“Did Daddy find the bad people?”
“Not yet, sweetheart.”
She reached for my hand.
“Are you leaving?”
The question hurt more than I expected.
“No.”
“Promise?”
I looked toward the doorway.
Alessandro stood there.
He had heard her.
I squeezed Lily's hand.
“I promise I'll tell you if anything changes. I won't just disappear.”
Lily nodded.
Then she fell asleep again.
Alessandro waited until we were outside.
“You shouldn't have had to make that promise.”
I looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Scarlett threatened your job because you protected my daughter.”
He took a breath.
“I should have noticed what was happening in my own home.”
I didn't answer.
He continued.
“I knew Scarlett could be demanding. I told myself she was adjusting to Lily.”
“She wasn't adjusting,” I said quietly.
“She was trying to control her.”
He nodded.
“I see that now.”
Then his expression hardened.
“Daniel found something in Scarlett's car.”
“What?”
“A folder containing financial transfers.”
“From Vittorio?”
“Some of them.”
“Some?”
Alessandro looked troubled.
“The largest payment came from an account registered to Margaret Bennett.”
I stared at him.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Eighty thousand dollars.”
My stomach dropped.
My mother didn't have eighty thousand dollars.
She struggled to pay her medical bills.
There had to be an explanation.
“That's impossible.”
“I hope so.”
He showed me the transaction.
My mother's name was printed clearly.
The transfer had been made six months earlier.
Scarlett had arrived at the mansion five months before our engagement dinner.
The timing was terrible.
But the account number looked unfamiliar.
“My mother doesn't bank there.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Alessandro studied the document.
“Then someone may have used her identity.”
I thought about the notebook.
The hidden photograph.
The warning message.
“Or someone wants us to think she helped Scarlett.”
He nodded slowly.
“That's possible.”
Daniel entered.
“Sir, we located Scarlett.”
Alessandro turned.
“Where?”
“At Vittorio's residence.”
“Bring her here.”
Daniel hesitated.
“She refuses to come. She says she'll speak only if you agree not to involve the police.”
Alessandro's expression became cold.
“She lost the right to negotiate when she endangered my daughter.”
I watched him walk toward the door.
Then my phone rang.
My mother.
I answered immediately.
“Mom?”
“Claire.”
Her voice sounded weak.
“Where are you?”
“At work.”
“Is Lily safe?”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
My mother exhaled.
“Thank God.”
“Mom, I found a photograph.”
Silence.
“It's you with Elena Romano.”
Another silence.
Then she whispered, “I hoped you'd never find that.”
My throat tightened.
“You knew her?”
“Yes.”
“Is she alive?”
My mother began crying.
“Claire, I need you to listen carefully.”
“Just answer me.”
“She was alive when I last saw her.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
I stared at the wall.
Three years.
The same year Rosa Romano died.
“Where did she go?”
“I don't know.”
“Mom.”
“I swear to you.”
“Then why did Elena leave a note about you?”
My mother started coughing.
I heard something fall.
“Mom?”
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she whispered, “I kept the one thing Elena asked me to protect.”
“What thing?”
“Her necklace.”
I remembered the pendant in the photograph.
E.R.
“Where is it?”
“In my jewelry box.”
“Mom, I'll come get it.”
“No.”
Her voice suddenly sharpened.
“Don't come here.”
“Why?”
“Because Vittorio knows.”
I heard footsteps through the phone.
My mother lowered her voice.
“Claire, the necklace isn't valuable because it's gold.”
“What?”
“It opens something.”
Then a man's voice spoke in the background.
“Margaret, it's time.”
I froze.
I recognized that voice.
I'd heard it at the mansion.
At Sunday dinners.
At family celebrations.
It belonged to Vittorio Romano.
My mother whispered one final sentence.
May you like
“Claire, tell Alessandro his mother didn't die from natural causes.”
Then the call ended.
