Chapter 3: The Woman Who Lied
I stared at the photograph for almost an hour before I called my mother.
She answered on the third ring.
“Clara?””
Her voice immediately changed when she heard my silence.
“What happened?””
I looked at the picture again.
“Mom…”
A pause.
Then another.
“What is it?””
“Who is Isabella Moretti?””
The silence that followed was so complete it felt like the phone had disconnected.
“Clara,” she whispered.
“Where did you hear that name?””
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
“Why did you lie to me?””
Another silence.
A painful one.
“Come home.””
That was all she said.
No explanation.
No denial.
Just two words.
Come home.
I lived twenty minutes away from my mother’s apartment.
But that drive felt like it lasted hours.
When I arrived, she was sitting at the kitchen table.
The same table where she had helped me with homework.
The same table where she had cried when my father left.
The same table where she had always told me she had no secrets.
Now there was a secret sitting between us.
“You knew her.””
My mother looked down.
“Yes.””
“Who was she?””
“She was my friend.””
“A friend?””
My laugh came out bitter.
“Mom, that woman was married to Ricardo Moretti.””
Her face tightened.
“You don’t understand.””
“Then explain it.””
She looked toward the window.
“Your father and I worked for the Morettis years ago.””
I froze.
“What?””
“Before you were born.””
My heart started beating faster.
“What does that mean?””
She opened a drawer and pulled out a small box.
Inside were letters.
Old ones.
Photographs.
Memories I had never seen.
“Isabella wasn’t just my friend,” my mother whispered.
“She was the person who saved my life.””
I sat down.
“How?””
My mother touched one of the photographs.
“Ricardo had enemies. Dangerous ones. Isabella knew that.””
“So?””
“She knew he would never leave her.””
My mother swallowed.
“So she made a plan.””
A cold feeling moved through me.
“What plan?””
“She wanted to protect Leo.””
“From who?””
My mother looked at me.
And the fear in her eyes answered before her words did.
“From Ricardo.””
I stood.
“That doesn’t make sense.””
“It will.””
“No. Mom, you need to explain.””
She closed her eyes.
“Isabella discovered something about his business.””
“What?””
“She found out someone close to him was betraying him.””
My mind went back to Dante.
The guards.
The men who surrounded Rico.
“Who?””
My mother shook her head.
“She never told me the name.””
“Then why do I have her necklace?””
Her face went pale.
“Because she gave it to me.””
“Why?””
“Because she wanted you protected.””
I stared at her.
“Protected from what?””
My mother looked toward the door.
As if expecting someone to appear.
“Clara…”
“What?””
“You need to stay away from the Morettis.””
I almost laughed.
“That’s a little late.””
Her expression changed.
“What do you mean?””
I hesitated.
Then I told her.
Everything.
The restaurant.
Leo.
Rico seeing the necklace.
By the time I finished, my mother looked like she had aged ten years.
“He knows.””
“Knows what?””
“That you’re Isabella’s daughter.””
The room went silent.
I blinked.
“What?””
My mother looked down.
“I’m sorry.””
The words felt impossible.
“What did you just say?””
She reached across the table.
“Clara…”
“No.””
I stepped away.
“No, you don’t get to say my whole life was a lie and then tell me to calm down.””
“You were never supposed to know.””
“Know what?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“That Isabella was your birth mother.””
Everything stopped.
The sound of the refrigerator.
The traffic outside.
My own breathing.
I laughed once.
A small, broken sound.
“That’s impossible.””
“I raised you.””
“You’re my mother.””
“I am.””
She grabbed my hand.
“But Isabella gave birth to you.””
I pulled away.
“Why?””
“Because she thought you’d be safer with me.””
“Safer than what?””
My mother didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
The fear on her face said enough.
A knock came from the front door.
Three slow knocks.
My mother immediately went pale.
“Clara.””
“What?””
“Go upstairs.””
I frowned.
“Mom?””
“Now.””
The door opened before I could move.
And standing there was Ricardo Moretti.
But he wasn’t alone.
Dante stood behind him.
Rico looked at my mother.
Then at me.
And said:
“I’m sorry.””
My blood ran cold.
Because the most feared man in Brooklyn had never looked afraid before.
Until now.
May you like
“My wife left me a letter,” Rico said quietly.
“And your name was the last one written on it.””
