Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN AT THE FRONT DOOR
For several seconds after the speakers went dead, nobody moved.
Adrian Romano stood beneath the pale projector light with his mother's eleven-year-old face frozen across the wall behind him.
Emily still held the photograph.
Her fingers had begun to shake.
Vanessa stood beside the locked doors, white-faced and breathing too quickly.
And downstairs, somewhere beneath their feet, an elderly woman who supposedly knew why Lucia Romano had died was walking through Adrian's mansion.
Adrian recovered first.
He crossed the room and pulled a slim knife from inside his tuxedo jacket.
Emily stared.
“You carry that to engagement parties?”
“I carry worse to business meetings.”
He drove the blade beneath the electronic lock housing.
Vanessa rushed toward him.
“Adrian, listen to me. That woman downstairs isn't who she says she is.”
He didn't even look at her.
“What's her name?”
Vanessa stopped.
Adrian turned.
“What's. Her. Name?”
“I don't know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I swear—”
“Then why did you tell me not to let her inside?”
Vanessa's eyes flicked toward Emily.
That tiny movement told Adrian enough.
He pointed toward a chair.
“Sit down.”
“Adrian—”
“Sit.”
Vanessa sat.
Adrian ripped the lock panel free. Sparks flashed. The doors released with a heavy click.
Marco and two guards were already waiting outside.
“Lock Vanessa in here,” Adrian said.
Vanessa shot to her feet.
“You cannot be serious.”
“I've never been more serious.”
She grabbed his arm.
“Please. If you go downstairs, she'll manipulate you.”
Adrian looked at her hand.
Vanessa released him.
“Who?”
Silence.
He stepped closer.
“Tell me what you're afraid she's going to say.”
Vanessa's voice dropped.
“You think your mother was some innocent saint?”
Something changed behind Adrian's eyes.
Emily had already learned what that meant.
When Adrian became truly angry, he grew quieter.
“Lock the room.”
Marco nodded.
Vanessa suddenly shouted, “Ask Eleanor about the hospital!”
Adrian stopped.
Vanessa smiled bitterly.
“Go ahead. Ask her why your mother was admitted under another name two days before she supposedly collapsed.”
Adrian turned slowly.
“You know her name.”
Vanessa's face betrayed her.
Just once.
But enough.
“Eleanor,” Adrian said.
Then he walked away.
Emily followed.
Neither of them spoke as they descended.
The music had stopped downstairs.
Guests gathered near the ballroom doors, confused, whispering.
Security had quietly blocked every exit.
Near the fireplace stood the elderly woman.
She was perhaps seventy-five, elegant despite the rain still shining across the shoulders of her gray coat.
Silver hair had been twisted into a simple knot.
She held the old photograph in both hands.
When she saw Emily, the photograph nearly slipped.
“Oh, Evelyn.”
Emily froze.
“My name is Emily.”
The woman stared.
Then sadness moved across her face.
“Of course it is.”
Adrian stepped between them.
“You're Eleanor?”
“Eleanor Russo.”
Michael Romano—Adrian's uncle—came through the crowd so quickly he nearly collided with Marco.
His face changed when he saw her.
“Jesus Christ.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“Hello, Michael.”
Adrian noticed.
“You know each other.”
Michael's jaw worked.
“Years ago.”
“How many?”
“Adrian—”
“How many?”
“Thirty.”
Eleanor gave a humorless smile.
“Closer to forty.”
Michael looked as though he wanted the floor to swallow him.
Adrian gestured toward the library.
“Everybody involved goes inside. Now.”
The mansion's engagement party dissolved without anyone officially ending it.
Guests were escorted toward waiting cars.
Phones were collected from several individuals Adrian didn't trust.
Within fifteen minutes, the library held Adrian, Emily, Eleanor, Michael, Marco and three guards.
Vanessa remained upstairs.
Adrian shut the door.
“Start talking.”
Eleanor looked toward Emily.
“Your mother, Evelyn Parker, worked for Lucia.”
Emily frowned.
“My mother was a nurse.”
“Eventually.”
“What does that mean?”
“She was nineteen when Lucia met her.”
Eleanor removed a leather envelope from beneath her coat.
Inside were photographs, handwritten notes and what looked like old bank statements.
“Your mother wasn't originally part of the Romano household,” Eleanor continued. “She worked nights at a private club owned by one of Michael's business partners.”
Michael shifted.
Adrian noticed.
Eleanor continued.
“Lucia discovered that men were using the club to move money through charitable foundations. Evelyn saw records she wasn't supposed to see.”
Emily swallowed.
“What kind of records?”
“Political bribes. Payoffs. Real estate transfers. Names of police officers. Judges. Contractors.”
Adrian's expression hardened.
“Whose operation?”
Eleanor looked directly at Michael.
Michael exploded.
“Don't you dare.”
Adrian turned to him.
Michael stopped.
Eleanor said quietly, “Not Michael's.”
The room loosened slightly.
“Then whose?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“Your father's.”
Adrian did not react.
That was worse.
Salvatore Romano had been dead fourteen years.
For most of Philadelphia, he had been a respected businessman.
For everyone inside the Romano family, he had been considerably more complicated.
Adrian walked toward the whiskey cabinet.
He didn't pour anything.
“My father moved money.”
“Yes.”
“That isn't news.”
“He also maintained a private ledger.”
Adrian looked back.
“What ledger?”
“A record protecting himself against every politician, businessman and criminal organization he dealt with.”
Michael cursed softly.
Eleanor nodded.
“Yes. That ledger.”
Adrian stared at his uncle.
“You knew?”
“I knew rumors.”
“You've had eleven years to mention them.”
Michael struck the arm of the chair.
“Because everybody who went looking for it ended up dead!”
Silence.
Emily's stomach tightened.
Eleanor lowered her voice.
“Lucia found the ledger after Salvatore died.”
“And?”
“She planned to give it to federal prosecutors.”
Adrian laughed once.
Not from amusement.
“My mother?”
“Your mother hated what the Romano organization had become.”
Michael looked away.
Adrian saw it.
“What are you not telling me?”
Michael remained silent.
Eleanor answered.
“Lucia wasn't trying to destroy you, Adrian.”
“She would have destroyed everything bearing our name.”
“No.”
Eleanor stepped closer.
“She was trying to save you.”
Adrian's face went still.
Eleanor opened the leather envelope and withdrew a photograph.
Lucia stood beside a younger Evelyn.
Between them rested a metal document case.
Written beneath the photo were three words.
THE SECOND LEDGER.
Adrian took it.
“There were two?”
“Salvatore created a public set of books for his criminal partners and a private set containing the truth.”
“What truth?”
“Who actually owned the organization.”
Adrian frowned.
Michael stood.
“Enough.”
Adrian looked at him.
Michael's eyes were no longer defensive.
They were frightened.
Eleanor continued.
“Salvatore Romano wasn't at the top.”
The room fell silent.
Adrian had grown up believing his father had built the network.
Warehouse contracts.
Construction.
Ports.
Political connections.
Everything.
“Who was?”
Eleanor looked toward Emily.
“Her grandfather.”
Emily almost laughed.
The idea was so absurd it seemed impossible.
“My grandfather repaired commercial refrigerators in Delaware.”
“That was the man who raised your mother.”
Eleanor's eyes softened.
“Not her biological father.”
Emily stopped breathing.
Adrian stared at Eleanor.
“Who was Evelyn's father?”
Eleanor reached back into the envelope.
She removed a birth certificate.
Not Emily's.
Evelyn's.
The father's name had been blacked out.
“Lucia discovered Evelyn was connected by blood to the man who financed Salvatore's rise.”
Emily shook her head.
“No. My mother hated organized crime. She wouldn't even watch gangster movies.”
“Because she knew what it did to her family.”
Adrian glanced toward the ceiling.
“The room upstairs.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Lucia designed it as an archive and emergency communications center. The duplicated parties were a signal system.”
Emily frowned.
“Signal for what?”
“To identify when certain families gathered in the same house.”
Adrian understood first.
“The seating cards.”
“Yes.”
“The guests upstairs weren't copied from tonight randomly.”
“No.”
“Someone was tracking alliances.”
Eleanor looked toward the door.
“And someone restarted Lucia's system six weeks ago because the same alliance is forming again.”
Adrian's engagement.
Vanessa.
Her family connections.
The politicians downstairs.
His cousin Anthony's speech.
Everything shifted.
Adrian pulled out his phone.
“Marco, bring Vanessa down.”
Marco spoke into his radio.
Nobody answered.
His expression changed.
He tried again.
“Third floor?”
Static.
He moved toward the door.
Adrian followed.
They reached the staircase at a run.
The third-floor double doors stood open.
The guard outside lay unconscious but breathing.
Vanessa was gone.
So was Lucia's red folder.
Marco swore.
Emily stepped into the recreated ballroom.
Something new had been placed on Adrian's mother's chair.
A white envelope.
Adrian opened it.
Inside was one sentence.
YOU FOUND THE WRONG WOMAN.
Beneath it lay a photograph.
Emily looked over his shoulder.
It showed Evelyn Parker alive.
Not eleven years ago.
Not twenty years ago.
The digital timestamp in the corner was from six months earlier.
Emily grabbed Adrian's wrist.
“My mother died four years ago.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“No, Emily.”
Emily slowly turned toward her.
May you like
Eleanor's next words shattered the room.
“Your mother is alive.”
