Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Helped Me Disappear
I refused to believe it.
“My mother saved us.”
Dante replayed the image.
The gold rose remained in the reflection.
“Maybe someone else owns the same necklace.”
“She had it custom made.”
Silence.
Luca was asleep in my arms after the adrenaline crash.
Dante had one of his men carry him to the SUV.
I followed.
The entire drive back, I stared at my phone.
My mother’s number.
MARIA ROSSI.
She had raised me after my father died.
She had slept beside the triplets’ cribs when we were hiding in motel rooms.
She had worked two jobs when I refused to touch Moretti money.
She knew every school teacher.
Every allergy.
Every bedtime ritual.
She loved my sons.
She could not be part of this.
Could she?
At the penthouse, Nico and Matteo rushed toward Luca.
The four of us ended up on the floor together.
Dante stood several feet away.
Watching.
He did not intrude.
Luca told his brothers he had been kidnapped.
Matteo immediately asked if he had snacks.
Nico asked whether he saw any secret tunnels.
Children were miraculous that way.
Trauma could exist beside curiosity.
I finally called my mother.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Dante said, “We find her.”
“She might be sleeping.”
“It’s one in the morning.”
“She sleeps.”
“Elena.”
I looked at him.
He didn’t say it.
He didn’t need to.
My mother had never ignored my calls when the boys were involved.
We drove to her apartment.
The door was unlocked.
No sign of a struggle.
Her purse was gone.
Passport gone.
Clothes missing.
On the kitchen table sat a photograph.
Me and Dante.
Seven years earlier.
We were laughing at Coney Island.
I had forgotten the picture existed.
Beneath it lay an envelope.
ELENA.
My hands shook opening it.
The letter inside was written by my mother.
My darling girl,
If you are reading this, then Dante knows.
I sat down.
Dante remained standing.
I continued.
I told myself everything I did was to protect you. Some of that is true. Some of it is not.
Six years ago, Vittorio came to me before you gave birth. He told me Dante was going to take your child and send you away. He showed me documents, messages, photographs. I believed him because I already feared the Morettis.
My eyes burned.
Dante said nothing.
I kept reading.
Vittorio offered me a choice. Help him separate you from Dante, or watch you become another casualty of his family. I agreed to convince you to disappear.
I stopped.
“Mom.”
The word came out like a child’s voice.
Dante crouched beside me.
“Keep reading.”
I hated him for being calm.
I needed him calm.
I read.
But when the triplets were born, Vittorio changed the plan. He wanted them gone permanently.
I could not allow that.
Anna and I got you out.
We changed records.
We hid you.
I thought it was over.
It wasn’t.
Vittorio continued paying me to report your location.
The page blurred.
I wiped my eyes.
Dante became very still.
“What?”
I handed him the letter.
He read the next sentence.
I never told him exactly where you lived. I gave him enough information to make him believe I was cooperating, but I kept moving you whenever he got too close.
I laughed once.
Broken.
“So she betrayed us and protected us.”
Dante said, “Both can be true.”
I hated that too.
The letter continued.
There is something else you must know.
The person behind Vittorio approached me first.
I never met them face-to-face.
I only heard a voice.
A woman’s voice.
She knew details about Dante’s childhood that even Vittorio did not know.
She wanted Dante without heirs.
I looked at him.
“Who would want that?”
His answer was immediate.
“Anyone who wanted control of the Moretti companies after my death.”
The Moretti empire was not simply organized crime.
Dante had spent a decade converting the family fortune into legitimate holdings.
Construction.
Shipping.
Real estate.
Hotels.
Technology.
Billions.
His future children would inherit controlling shares held in family trusts.
Unless they didn’t exist.
I returned to the letter.
The woman contacted me again three days ago.
She knows the boys are alive.
She knows about the drive.
If I stay near you, she will use me to reach them.
I am going somewhere she cannot follow.
Please forgive me.
I love you.
Mom.
I lowered the letter.
“No.”
Dante picked up the photograph.
Something had been written on the back.
ROME WAS NEVER SAFE.
He frowned.
“What does that mean?”
I knew.
“My mother used to tell me about a trip she and my father took to Rome before I was born. She always said it was the safest she ever felt.”
“So ‘Rome was never safe’ is a message.”
“A warning.”
Dante turned the photograph beneath the light.
Tiny numbers were written along the bottom.
41.9028, 12.4964.
Coordinates.
Rome.
Dante stared.
“She left you a location.”
My phone rang.
My mother.
I answered instantly.
“Mom?”
Breathing.
Then her voice.
“Elena.”
I stood.
“Where are you?”
“I don’t have much time.”
“Tell me where you are.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We’ll talk about sorry later. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Come back.”
“I can’t.”
Dante took the phone and put it on speaker.
“Maria.”
Silence.
Then my mother whispered, “Dante.”
“You helped steal my children.”
“Yes.”
“You helped keep Elena alive.”
“Yes.”
His expression tightened.
“I haven’t decided which one matters more.”
“Neither have I.”
I looked at him.
My mother continued.
“They are moving against you tomorrow.”
“Who?”
“The board.”
Dante frowned.
Moretti Holdings had an emergency board meeting scheduled for nine.
He had mentioned it days earlier in the news.
A restructuring vote.
My mother said, “If they prove you have no lawful heir, certain trust shares revert.”
“To whom?”
“Your father’s surviving beneficiary.”
Dante’s face changed.
“My father had no surviving beneficiary.”
“Yes, he did.”
The line crackled.
“Your sister.”
Dante stared at the phone.
“My sister died when I was nine.”
“So everyone believed.”
I watched all color leave his face.
His younger sister, Sofia, had supposedly died in the same attack that killed their parents.
Dante had rarely spoken about her.
Only once.
He had been drunk.
He told me he still dreamed of hearing her cry from the burning house.
“Maria,” he said, “what are you saying?”
“Vittorio hid her.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know that either.”
“Who is the woman giving orders?”
My mother cried.
I heard it.
Then she said, “I think it’s Sofia.”
Dante sat down.
The phone slipped slightly in his hand.
His dead sister might be alive.
And she might have ordered the death of his family.
My mother whispered, “There’s more.”
A noise sounded on her end.
A door.
“Mom?”
She inhaled sharply.
“Someone’s here.”
“Run,” Dante said.
Silence.
Then a man spoke in the background.
“Maria Rossi?”
My mother whispered, “Elena, don’t trust the board vote.”
The line went dead.
I called back.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Dante was already moving.
“Trace it.”
His people worked.
Thirty seconds later, his security chief looked up.
“We have the location.”
“Where?”
He hesitated.
“Moretti Holdings.”
Dante and I stared at each other.
My mother had called from inside his own corporate headquarters.
At two in the morning.
The building was supposed to be empty.
We arrived twelve minutes later.
The lobby lights were on.
No guards.
No receptionist.
The elevator was waiting with its doors open.
Dante checked his weapon.
I stepped beside him.
“You stay behind me.”
“Stop saying that.”
“It keeps failing, but I remain optimistic.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
We reached the forty-second floor.
The boardroom doors stood closed.
Light glowed beneath them.
Dante approached.
Voices came from inside.
One was my mother.
The other belonged to a woman.
Dante froze.
I watched recognition destroy his composure.
He whispered one word.
May you like
“Sofia.”
Then the boardroom door opened from the inside.
