Chapter 3 - THE BIRTHDAY THAT NEVER HAPPENED
“My birthday is March seventeenth.”
Elena heard herself say it as though repetition could make it true.
Gabriel remained silent.
“My mother made the same chocolate cake every year. My father bought me daffodils because he said they were the first flowers stubborn enough to survive winter.”
Her voice broke.
“March seventeenth.”
Gabriel nodded.
“That was the day Enzo and Maria brought you home.”
Elena stared at him.
“Home from where?”
Adrien spoke before Gabriel could.
“Answer her.”
Gabriel looked toward the old photograph.
“A safe apartment in Queens.”
Elena laughed once.
It sounded terrible.
“You expect me to believe my parents hid my birth?”
“Not your birth.”
“Then what?”
“Your origin.”
Marco turned away.
Elena noticed.
“You knew.”
“I knew there was something Enzo was protecting.”
“You knew about the photograph?”
“No.”
“But you knew my records were false.”
Marco hesitated.
“Some of them.”
Elena slapped him.
The sound cracked through the office.
Danny flinched.
Marco did not.
“You put your hands on me tonight because you thought I couldn't handle the truth?”
“No.”
He looked at her directly.
“I put my hands on you because there was a camera pointed at that room, and I needed whoever was watching to believe I was still following orders.”
Elena froze.
“Whose orders?”
Marco looked at Gabriel.
“His.”
Adrien turned sharply.
Gabriel’s face tightened.
“Not mine.”
Marco pulled out his phone.
He opened a message.
No mysterious number.
No coded threat.
A photograph.
Elena entering Castellano’s office earlier that evening.
Below it:
KEEP HER AWAY FROM MORETTI. DO WHAT ENZO ASKED YOU TO DO.
Gabriel stared.
“I didn't send that.”
Marco nodded.
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because you call him Adrien.”
Marco enlarged the message.
“The sender called him Moretti.”
Adrien looked at the timestamp.
“Who else knew what Enzo asked?”
Marco’s silence answered.
Gabriel whispered, “Vittorio.”
Adrien’s jaw hardened.
“My father is seventy-three and recovering from heart surgery in Connecticut.”
Gabriel gave him a bleak look.
“Your father conducted half his life from dining rooms.”
Elena put the phone down.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“We keep doing this.”
“Doing what?” Adrien asked.
“Making everything about your family.”
She held up the photograph.
“My life is wrong by fourteen months. My father hid his brother. My mother lied about my birthday. Somebody erased my real identity.”
She looked at Gabriel.
“I want to know who that baby was.”
Gabriel sat down.
For the first time, he looked frightened.
“Her name was Anna.”
Adrien’s expression changed.
“My mother was named Anna.”
Gabriel nodded.
Elena stared at the photograph again.
Two babies.
One woman.
One Enzo.
“Was she my mother?”
“No.”
The answer came from Marco.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
Elena turned.
“How do you know?”
“Because Enzo told me once that your mother died before you could remember her.”
“My mother died when I was twenty-one.”
“Maria did.”
Elena felt the floor disappear beneath her.
Adrien caught her elbow.
This time she pulled away.
“Don't.”
He released her immediately.
She pressed both hands against the desk.
“Who was my mother?”
Gabriel finally answered.
“Lucia.”
The name meant nothing.
Then Adrien whispered, “Lucia Bellandi?”
Gabriel nodded.
Adrien stepped backward.
“No.”
Elena looked at him.
“You know that name.”
“My father talked about her once.”
“How?”
Adrien seemed reluctant.
“He said she betrayed the family.”
Gabriel laughed without humor.
“Lucia’s betrayal was wanting to leave.”
Elena looked at Gabriel.
“Leave who?”
“Vittorio.”
The room went silent.
Elena’s mouth went dry.
“No.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“Don't jump ahead. Vittorio wasn't your father.”
Relief came so sharply Elena hated herself for feeling it.
“Then who was?”
Gabriel looked at the photograph.
“That's what Enzo never told me.”
Marco frowned.
“You expect us to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why would Enzo take Lucia’s baby?”
“Because Lucia asked him.”
Adrien moved toward the window.
Elena watched him carefully.
Something about the name had shaken him beyond the obvious.
“What aren't you saying?”
Adrien didn't turn.
“My mother hated Lucia Bellandi.”
“Why?”
“I never knew.”
Gabriel answered.
“Because Anna believed Lucia was sleeping with Vittorio.”
Adrien looked back.
“Was she?”
“No.”
“Then why did my mother believe it?”
“Because Vittorio wanted her to.”
Gabriel rubbed a hand over his face.
“Lucia knew where money was going. Enzo knew how it was moving. I knew who was collecting it. Separately, none of us could prove anything.”
“But together?” Elena asked.
“We could destroy Vittorio’s system.”
Marco looked toward the laptop.
“The original three.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Enzo. Lucia. Me.”
Elena held up the pocket watch.
“Then why are Vittorio’s initials here?”
Gabriel looked at it.
“Because before any of us understood what Vittorio was becoming, we loved him.”
That answer silenced even Adrien.
Families were cruelest when the betrayal came after love.
Danny finally spoke.
“Where’s my uncle?”
Everyone turned.
The question had been waiting in the room.
Marco’s expression darkened.
“I don't know.”
“You said you found me because Sal told you where I was.”
“No. I found you because Sal missed his shift for the first time in eleven years.”
Danny’s face drained.
“He never misses.”
“I know.”
Elena looked at the laptop.
“Search him.”
Danny typed.
SALVATORE FERRARO.
A file appeared.
Not payroll.
TRANSFER PENDING.
Beside Sal’s name was an address.
A city storage facility in Brooklyn.
And a time.
2:00 A.M.
Adrien checked his watch.
1:21.
Marco swore.
“What does transfer mean?” Danny asked.
Gabriel looked grim.
“In the old system? New identity.”
Danny swallowed.
“Why would my uncle need one?”
Elena opened the attached file.
There was a scanned photograph of Sal.
Beside him stood another man.
Enzo.
The photograph was recent enough that Elena recognized the coat her father had worn during his final winter.
Danny leaned closer.
“My uncle knew your dad?”
Elena stared at the picture.
Then she noticed what Sal was holding.
A child’s drawing.
Three stick figures beneath a yellow sun.
Written across the bottom in shaky crayon:
UNCLE SAL + ELENA + ME
Elena’s blood went cold.
“I never drew that.”
Danny whispered, “Neither did I.”
Gabriel stared at it.
Then he turned the photograph over on the screen.
A note had been scanned from the back.
If Elena ever finds this, tell her the child who drew it is the reason Enzo changed her birthday.
Adrien looked at Gabriel.
“What child?”
Gabriel’s face went white.
May you like
“I thought she was dead.”
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