Chapter 4 - The Mother Who Was Never Gone
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't even understand what my eyes were seeing.
The woman standing in front of me looked like a stranger.
But her eyes weren't.
Those eyes had followed me through every photograph from my childhood.
Every birthday picture.
Every memory I had of the woman my family told me I lost.
My mother.
Clara Bellamy.
Alive.
Standing in front of me.
After twelve years of believing she was gone.
Someone behind me whispered.
"Impossible."
I didn't need to turn around to know it was Amelia.
For the first time in my life, my sister looked smaller than me.
She wasn't the confident woman who had pulled the chair away from me.
She wasn't the perfect bride everyone admired.
She was just a scared person staring at a ghost.
My mother took another step forward.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Simone."
Hearing my name from her lips broke something inside me.
Because I had imagined this moment so many times.
When I was a child, I imagined my mother walking through the front door.
I imagined running toward her.
I imagined her holding me and telling me everything would be okay.
But I was no longer that child.
I was a woman standing in the middle of a wedding where my entire family had lied to me.
I stepped back.
"No."
My voice was barely above a whisper.
My mother stopped.
The pain on her face was immediate.
"Simone..."
"No."
This time louder.
I looked at her.
"You don't get to say my name like you missed me."
The words hurt me as much as they hurt her.
But I couldn't stop.
Because I had spent twelve years grieving someone who had chosen not to come back.
"I buried you."
My voice shook.
"I cried for you."
I looked around the ballroom.
"Everyone told me you were gone."
My eyes moved toward my father.
"And you let them."
My father lowered his head.
My mother looked at him.
Not with anger.
With disappointment.
"You promised."
My father closed his eyes.
"I was trying to protect her."
My mother shook her head.
"No."
Her voice became cold.
"You were trying to protect yourself."
Nobody spoke.
Even Alessandro remained silent.
But I noticed something.
He wasn't surprised.
Not completely.
He knew my mother was alive.
And somehow, that hurt too.
I turned toward him.
"You knew."
His eyes met mine.
"Simone..."
"You knew."
I didn't need him to answer.
His silence was enough.
The man who had just protected me.
The man who had made me feel like someone finally saw me.
Had also been keeping a secret.
A secret about my own mother.
"I thought you were different."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Something changed in Alessandro's expression.
Pain.
Real pain.
"I wanted to tell you."
"When?"
I laughed quietly.
"After another twelve years?"
He looked away.
And that told me everything.
My mother walked closer.
"Simone, please."
I looked at her.
"Why?"
One word.
But it carried twelve years of pain.
"Why did you leave me?"
Her lips trembled.
"I didn't."
I stared at her.
"Everyone said you did."
"They were wrong."
"Then why didn't you come back?"
The silence that followed was the hardest answer.
My mother looked down.
And for the first time, I saw fear in her eyes.
Not sadness.
Fear.
"Because if I came back..."
She stopped.
"Someone would have found you."
A cold feeling moved through me.
"Who?"
Nobody answered.
Again.
That was becoming the pattern of my life.
Everyone knew the truth.
Everyone protected the truth.
Everyone except me.
Alessandro stepped forward.
"Clara."
My mother looked at him.
The way they looked at each other told me everything.
There was history between them.
Not just a simple connection.
Something deeper.
Something painful.
"You shouldn't have brought her here," my mother said.
Alessandro's expression hardened.
"I didn't."
She looked at him.
"Then why is she wearing the bracelet?"
My eyes dropped to my wrist.
The broken bracelet.
The one my grandmother had given me.
The one containing my mother's hidden message.
Alessandro looked at it.
"Because someone wanted Simone to find the truth."
My mother shook her head.
"No."
Her voice became urgent.
"Someone wanted Simone to be found."
The room became silent.
A terrible thought entered my mind.
"You mean someone was looking for me?"
My mother looked at me.
"Yes."
"Who?"
Her eyes moved toward Amelia.
Then my father.
Then Alessandro.
"The people who believed your mother died with her secrets."
I swallowed.
"But I'm alive."
My mother nodded.
"Exactly."
The ballroom suddenly felt too small.
Too many secrets.
Too many people.
Too many lies.
I looked at Amelia.
"You knew."
She didn't answer.
"You knew she was alive."
Tears appeared in Amelia's eyes.
"Yes."
The honesty shocked me.
I expected another lie.
Another excuse.
But she simply admitted it.
"How long?"
"Years."
My chest tightened.
"Years?"
She looked broken.
"I wasn't trying to hurt you."
I almost laughed.
"You pushed me onto a marble floor tonight."
Her face changed.
Guilt.
Real guilt.
"I did."
She looked down.
"But I didn't know what else to do."
I stared at her.
"What does that mean?"
Amelia looked at my father.
Then at my mother.
And finally at me.
"It means the wedding wasn't about me."
My heartbeat slowed.
"What?"
She whispered:
"It was about bringing you here."
The room went completely silent.
I looked at Alessandro.
He looked serious.
Because he knew she was telling the truth.
I looked at my mother.
Her expression changed.
Fear.
Pure fear.
"Amelia..."
My sister shook her head.
"I'm sorry."
She stepped backward.
"I thought if everyone believed Simone was humiliated and angry, she would leave before they arrived."
My blood turned cold.
"Who?"
Amelia didn't answer.
Then the sound of a phone ringing cut through the silence.
Everyone looked around.
It wasn't a guest's phone.
It was coming from the table where my mother had placed the folder.
Elena Voss picked it up.
Her face changed immediately.
"What is it?" Alessandro asked.
She didn't answer.
She looked at me.
Then at my mother.
Then slowly turned the phone around.
A message was displayed on the screen.
One sentence.
My mother's face went pale.
Because she recognized the number.
"Clara..."
Alessandro took the phone.
His expression darkened.
"What does it say?"
Elena whispered.
"The person who has been watching Simone knows she found you."
Nobody moved.
Then another message appeared.
A second sentence.
This one was shorter.
And it was addressed directly to me.
My hands became cold.
Because the message began with my name.
"Simone..."
Alessandro stared at the screen.
Then he looked toward the ballroom entrance.
The doors were slowly opening.
May you like
Someone was coming inside.
And before anyone could stop them, my mother whispered the name she had spent twelve years trying to forget.
