Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Knew My Past
The person standing behind Marco Bellini was the one person I thought I would never see again.
My mother.
For a few seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
The room disappeared.
The mansion disappeared.
Even Alessandro Moretti disappeared.
All I could see was the woman standing in the doorway.
Older.
Tired.
But unmistakably her.
"Clara."
My name left her mouth like a secret she had been carrying for years.
Emma looked up at me.
"Mama?"
I couldn’t move.
Because the last time I saw my mother, I was eighteen years old.
And she told me never to come looking for her again.
I spent years believing she was gone.
Believing she had abandoned me.
Believing I had finally escaped the life she left behind.
But now she was standing inside Alessandro Moretti’s mansion.
At the exact moment someone tried to kill him.
I stepped back.
"No."
My mother’s eyes filled with sadness.
"Clara, listen to me."
"No."
My voice shook.
"You don’t get to appear after all these years and tell me to listen."
Alessandro looked between us.
He didn’t interrupt.
He was watching.
Learning.
Because Alessandro Moretti understood one thing better than anyone.
Secrets always had a reason for hiding.
And my mother was carrying a very old one.
Marco closed the door behind them.
That bothered me.
Because if Marco was truly Alessandro’s enemy, why was he bringing my mother here?
Unless...
Unless he knew something bigger than the attack.
Alessandro looked at Marco.
"Explain."
Marco glanced at my mother.
Then at me.
"Clara Bennett was never just a maid."
My stomach tightened.
I hated those words.
Because they sounded like someone was about to tell me that my entire life was a lie.
"I don't know what you think you know," I said.
Marco looked at the box of documents on the desk.
"The records prove it."
"What records?"
He pointed toward the photographs.
"The ones hidden in this house."
My mother closed her eyes.
Like she already knew.
Alessandro picked up one of the pictures.
"Why were these collected?"
Nobody answered.
Then my mother spoke.
"Because someone was trying to find her."
Her voice was quiet.
"Who?"
She looked at Alessandro.
"The same person who tried to kill you."
The room became silent.
Emma moved closer to me.
I wrapped my arm around her.
I didn’t care about secrets anymore.
I cared about keeping my daughter safe.
Alessandro noticed.
And something in his expression changed.
"You knew this was coming."
My mother looked at him.
"I knew someone would eventually find her."
"Who?"
She hesitated.
Then whispered:
"The Moretti family."
I felt confused.
"What does that mean?"
My mother looked at me.
And the pain in her eyes hurt more than anger.
"Clara, there are things I should have told you years ago."
I laughed softly.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was impossible.
"Years ago?"
I looked around the room.
"People are trying to kill us now."
My voice cracked.
"And you want to talk about years ago?"
My mother lowered her head.
"I was trying to protect you."
"By leaving me?"
The words came out before I could stop them.
She looked away.
And that silence was an answer.
I had spent years wondering why she disappeared.
Now I knew.
She didn’t have an explanation.
She had a reason.
And somehow, that was worse.
Alessandro walked toward the desk.
"Start from the beginning."
My mother looked at him.
"You really don’t remember?"
His face hardened.
"Remember what?"
She looked at the old photographs.
"Clara’s father."
I froze.
My father.
A man I barely remembered.
A man who disappeared when I was young.
A man my mother refused to talk about.
Alessandro’s expression changed.
"What about him?"
My mother took a breath.
"He worked for your father."
Nobody spoke.
The room felt colder.
I looked at Alessandro.
"My father knew your family?"
He didn’t answer.
Because he was thinking.
Searching through memories.
Then he whispered:
"That’s impossible."
My mother shook her head.
"No."
She looked at him.
"It’s the reason Clara was brought into this house."
My heart started racing.
"What are you talking about?"
My mother looked at me.
"Your father discovered something."
"What?"
She hesitated.
Then said:
"The Moretti family had a traitor."
Alessandro’s face changed.
Because that word meant something to him.
A traitor.
Someone close.
Someone trusted.
Someone who could enter the house.
Someone who could change medicine.
Someone who could erase cameras.
My mind went back to Marco.
To Sofia.
To everyone.
"Who was it?" Alessandro asked.
My mother looked toward the door.
Almost afraid someone might hear.
Then she whispered:
"The person who destroyed your family twenty years ago."
A silence followed.
Then Alessandro stepped closer.
"Name."
My mother looked at him.
"I can’t."
"Why?"
"Because if I say it, they’ll know I told you."
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed.
"They?"
My mother nodded.
"They never stopped watching."
I felt a chill.
"Who are they?"
Before she could answer, the lights went out.
The entire mansion went dark.
Emma gasped.
I immediately pulled her against me.
"Stay with me."
A sound came from the hallway.
A slow step.
Then another.
Someone was moving outside the room.
Alessandro immediately grabbed his weapon.
Marco moved toward the door.
"Wait."
Alessandro stopped him.
"No one opens that door."
The footsteps stopped.
Everyone held their breath.
Then something slid underneath the door.
A small envelope.
Nobody moved.
Alessandro picked it up carefully.
There was no name.
No address.
Only three words written on the front.
"Ask your sister."
My eyes moved toward Sofia’s name in my mind.
The woman who appeared afraid.
The woman Emma identified.
The woman who received a suspicious phone call.
Alessandro opened the envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
He looked at it.
Then his expression completely changed.
"What?"
He handed it to me.
I looked down.
And my hands started shaking.
Because the picture showed my mother.
Standing beside a young Alessandro Moretti.
Twenty years ago.
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And between them was a little girl.
A little girl who looked exactly like Emma.
