Chapter 5 - Emma’s Mother
Emma had not thought about her mother in years without first seeing a hospital room.
Blue blanket.
Plastic cup of ice.
A woman with hollow cheeks telling sixteen-year-old Emma that some families were safer as stories.
Her mother, Rebecca Carter, died two days later.
Now Vittorio Moretti was staring at Emma as if Rebecca had just walked through the diner door.
Alexander noticed.
“You knew her.”
Vittorio said nothing.
Emma’s voice cracked.
“You knew my mother.”
“I met her.”
“That is not what your face says.”
Vittorio rubbed his thumb across the edge of his wedding ring.
For the first time, Emma saw a nervous habit in him.
“She worked for my father.”
“Doing what?”
“Accounting.”
Alexander gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Grandfather had hundreds of accountants.”
“She was not just an accountant.”
Vittorio looked directly at Emma.
“She was the person who discovered the port accounts Damien later reopened.”
Emma’s mind struggled to fit the pieces together.
“My mother worked at a public library.”
“After she left Chicago.”
“Why did she leave?”
Vittorio’s answer took too long.
Emma stepped toward him.
“Why?”
“Because she found evidence that Enzo Moretti was moving money through shell companies. She copied the ledgers. My father accused her of theft.”
Emma laughed once.
The sound came out broken.
“The exact thing your family accused me of.”
Vittorio looked away.
“Yes.”
Alexander’s mouth tightened.
“History really is the only tradition this family respects.”
Emma’s hands were cold inside the sleeves of his coat.
“She changed her name?”
“Yes.”
“What was it before Carter?”
Vittorio did not answer.
Alexander’s gaze sharpened.
“Say it.”
Vittorio looked at Emma.
“Rebecca Moretti.”
The room tilted.
Emma grabbed the counter.
“No.”
“Rebecca was my half sister.”
The words seemed to arrive from very far away.
Emma looked at Alexander.
Then at her stomach.
Then back at Vittorio.
For one horrifying second, she could not calculate the family tree.
Dr. Nolan spoke immediately.
“Stop. Before everyone panics, a second-degree match between Damien and Emma could be consistent with first cousins depending on the amount of shared DNA. The software category is broad.”
Emma turned on him.
“First cousins?”
“If Rebecca was Vittorio’s half sister, Emma and Alexander would be—”
“Don’t.”
Alexander’s voice cut across the room.
He was pale now.
“Do not finish that sentence until you are certain.”
Dr. Nolan nodded.
“We need exact centimorgan estimates. And we need verified samples. This current lab data has already been tampered with.”
Emma wanted to be sick.
Vittorio stepped forward.
“Rebecca was not Enzo’s biological daughter.”
Everyone froze.
Emma closed her eyes.
“Of course there’s another layer.”
Vittorio almost flinched.
“My mother had Rebecca before she married Enzo. He adopted her. The name was legal. The bloodline was not.”
Alexander exhaled slowly.
“So Emma and I are not related.”
“Not through Enzo.”
“Not good enough.”
Alexander looked at Dr. Nolan.
“Run a direct test. Me, Emma, fetus. Chain of custody. Tonight.”
The doctor nodded.
“I can arrange it at a hospital I trust.”
“No Moretti facilities,” Emma said.
“Agreed.”
Vittorio’s phone buzzed.
He read the screen and swore.
“What?” Alexander asked.
“My house alarm.”
Luca checked his own device.
“Fire reported in the east wing.”
Alexander stared at Vittorio.
“Damien’s office?”
“Adjacent.”
The file.
Emma understood at once.
Damien was not running to Montreal.
He was destroying evidence.
Alexander was already moving.
Emma grabbed his sleeve.
“No.”
He stopped.
“You are not leaving me here while everyone else decides what happens.”
“I’m going to my father’s house.”
“I know.”
“It may be burning.”
“I heard that part.”
His eyes dropped to her stomach.
“Emma.”
She stepped closer.
“If that file contains my mother’s name, it belongs to me too.”
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Alexander nodded.
“Fine. You stay in the armored car. You do not get out unless I tell you.”
“Don’t make rules you can’t enforce.”
A ghost of the man she remembered appeared in his eyes.
Then it vanished.
Twenty minutes later they were racing through the storm toward the Moretti estate.
Emma sat in the rear seat beside Dr. Nolan, who had insisted on coming because stress and thirty-week pregnancies were a terrible combination.
Alexander sat across from her, silent.
Vittorio rode in the lead SUV.
As they turned through iron gates, orange light flashed against the low clouds.
The east wing was burning.
Fire crews filled the circular drive.
Alexander was out before the vehicle fully stopped.
Emma stayed inside for exactly forty-three seconds.
Then she saw a man standing beyond the fountain.
Wet hair.
Dark jacket.
A familiar scar along his jaw.
Marcus.
He looked directly at her through the rain.
Then lifted one finger to his lips.
In his other hand was a black folder.
Emma opened the car door.
Dr. Nolan grabbed her wrist.
“Absolutely not.”
Marcus turned and disappeared toward the greenhouse.
Emma pulled free.
“He has the file.”
She stepped into the rain.
And behind her, the armored car locked itself.
Three clicks.
Pause.
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