Chapter 5 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
The voice came from the other side of the basement door.
“Alessandro… you finally found her.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Even Luna stopped crying.
I looked at Alessandro.
For the first time since I met him, I saw something I never thought was possible.
Fear.
Not anger.
Not suspicion.
Fear.
His eyes stayed fixed on the door.
His weapon was still in his hand, but his grip had changed.
Like he wasn’t preparing to fight an enemy.
Like he was preparing to face a ghost.
“Who is that?” I whispered.
Alessandro didn’t answer.
“Alessandro.”
His jaw tightened.
Then Sofia spoke.
Her voice was barely audible.
“It can’t be.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“You know that voice.”
Sofia’s face had gone pale.
“No.”
“You know.”
She stepped backward.
“No. He died.”
The words hit the room like a warning.
He died.
Those two words stayed in my mind.
Someone who was supposed to be dead was standing outside the door.
Someone connected to my mother.
Someone connected to Luna.
Someone connected to a secret that had been buried for twenty-seven years.
The door handle moved.
Slowly.
Alessandro immediately stepped in front of me.
“Stay behind me.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the situation was impossible.
The most powerful man in the city was protecting me.
A maid.
A woman who had spent months hiding in a laundry room.
But I didn’t argue.
Because something about that moment told me I needed to trust him.
The lock clicked.
Once.
Twice.
Then the door opened.
A man stood there.
Older.
Tall.
His face carried the marks of years that should not have existed.
His hair was gray.
His eyes were cold.
But there was something familiar about him.
Something I couldn’t explain.
He looked at Alessandro first.
Then Sofia.
Then me.
Then Luna.
And when he saw my daughter…
His expression changed.
“She has Maria’s eyes.”
My body froze.
Nobody knew that.
Not like that.
Not with that certainty.
Alessandro raised his weapon.
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
The man smiled sadly.
“So are you.”
The room went silent.
I looked at Alessandro.
Then at the stranger.
“What is happening?”
The man looked at me.
“My name is Gabriel Duca.”
The name meant nothing.
Until I saw Alessandro’s face.
Because he recognized it.
“You’re my uncle.”
The words came out like they hurt.
Gabriel nodded.
“Yes.”
Sofia covered her mouth.
“You were there.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Twenty-seven years ago.”
“Yes.”
“You knew what happened to Maria.”
His expression darkened.
“Yes.”
My hands tightened around Luna.
I felt anger rising.
Everyone knew something.
Everyone had secrets.
Everyone had pieces of my mother’s story.
Except me.
The person who had spent her entire life wondering why her mother disappeared.
“Enough.”
My voice surprised all of them.
They looked at me.
“I am tired of standing here while everyone talks around me.”
Nobody spoke.
I stepped forward.
“My mother disappeared.”
My voice shook.
“She left me with questions my entire life.”
I looked at Alessandro.
“Then I found out she was connected to your family.”
I looked at Sofia.
“Then I found out you all knew things I never knew.”
Then I looked at Gabriel.
“And now someone who was supposed to be dead walks through that door.”
I held Luna closer.
“I want the truth.”
The room stayed quiet.
Then Gabriel slowly lowered his eyes.
“You deserve it.”
Alessandro didn’t lower his weapon.
“Start talking.”
Gabriel walked into the room.
The door closed behind him.
Twenty-seven years disappeared in a single step.
“Maria was never just a maid.”
“I know,” Alessandro said.
“No.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“You don’t know everything.”
His eyes moved to me.
“Maria was investigating your father.”
Alessandro’s expression hardened.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she discovered he was hiding something.”
“Money?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“A child.”
The same word.
Again.
The same mystery.
I looked at Luna.
My daughter was playing with the edge of my sleeve, completely unaware that adults were discussing a past connected to her.
“What child?” I asked.
Gabriel looked at her.
Then at me.
“Your mother believed the child was alive.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“She believed someone had lied about what happened twenty-seven years ago.”
Alessandro stepped forward.
“Explain.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Your family told everyone the child died.”
“Whose child?”
Gabriel hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Alessandro understood.
“No.”
“Yes.”
The answer was quiet.
But devastating.
“The child was yours.”
Nobody moved.
I looked at Alessandro.
His face had completely changed.
“What?”
Gabriel continued.
“Your father took the baby away because he believed it would destroy the family name.”
Alessandro’s voice was low.
“I never had a child.”
“You were told you didn’t.”
The room felt like it was shrinking.
I couldn’t understand.
None of it made sense.
Alessandro looked at me.
Then at Luna.
“No.”
It was almost a whisper.
Gabriel’s eyes softened.
“Maria spent years trying to find the child.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew the truth.”
“What truth?”
Gabriel looked directly at me.
“That the baby survived.”
A terrible silence followed.
I felt dizzy.
My daughter.
My mother.
Alessandro.
A child from twenty-seven years ago.
Everything was connected.
But how?
“How does Luna fit into this?” I asked.
Gabriel didn’t answer immediately.
And that scared me.
“Answer her.”
Alessandro’s voice was dangerous.
Gabriel looked at him.
“Maria found the child.”
My heart raced.
“And?”
“She protected her.”
“Who was the child?”
Gabriel looked down.
Then whispered:
“Your daughter.”
The words didn’t make sense.
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I stepped back.
“My daughter is eight months old.”
Gabriel nodded.
“I know.”
“Then how?”
Nobody answered.
Because there was only one possibility.
A possibility too impossible to accept.
I looked at Alessandro.
His face had lost all color.
“Alessandro?”
He didn’t look at me.
Because he was staring at Luna.
Like he was seeing something he had spent his entire life believing was impossible.
Gabriel reached into his coat.
He pulled out another photograph.
He handed it to Alessandro.
I watched him look at it.
Then I saw his hand begin to shake.
“What is it?”
He didn’t respond.
I moved closer.
The photograph showed a woman holding a baby.
Maria.
But the baby was older.
Not a newborn.
Several months old.
And beside Maria stood a younger Alessandro.
Holding the baby.
My breath stopped.
Because I recognized the baby.
Not from the picture.
From my own life.
The same birthmark.
The same eyes.
The same small hand.
The same face.
Luna.
No.
It was impossible.
But it was there.
Alessandro whispered:
“She was alive.”
Nobody answered.
Then his phone rang.
The sound cut through the room.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“Who is it?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
He answered the call.
A voice spoke.
A woman’s voice.
A voice I had never heard before.
But Alessandro’s reaction told me everything.
Because he dropped the phone.
The color disappeared from his face.
May you like
And then he whispered the name of the person calling.
“Maria…”
