Chapter 5 - THE DEAD WOMAN IN THE REFLECTION
The dining room fell into a suffocating silence.
Luca stared at me, his dark eyes wide with disbelief.
“Hannah,” Luca said slowly. “You told me your mother died seven years ago. You said she was a widow who passed away from a stroke.”
I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered.
“She did!” I cried, tears spilling hot down my cheeks. “I buried her, Luca! I watched them lower her casket into the ground at St. Mary’s Cemetery!”
George took the phone from Luca’s hand and adjusted his reading glasses. He studied the reflection in the car window closely.
“That’s Clara,” George whispered, his voice filled with shock.
I looked at the elderly man. “You knew my mother?”
George nodded slowly, looking at Teresa.
Teresa had gone completely pale. She sat back down in her chair, pressing her hand over her heart.
“We all knew Clara,” Teresa said, her voice barely a breath. “She wasn't just a widow, Hannah. Your mother was Frank’s personal accountant for twenty years.”
The room spun.
I grabbed the edge of the dining table to keep from collapsing.
“My mother was a bookkeeper at a local grocery store,” I stammered, desperate to hold onto the life I thought I knew.
“That was her cover, sweetheart,” Teresa said gently. “Clara was brilliant with numbers. She hid the Moretti assets from the IRS, and more importantly, she hid them from the Bellini family.”
“But she died!” I yelled, unable to process the betrayal. “I was nineteen years old! I was completely alone!”
Luca took the phone back from George.
He looked at the text message again.
“She didn't die, Hannah,” Luca said, his voice hardening. “She went into hiding. Seven years ago was exactly when the Bellinis started closing in on my father. She faked her death to protect the ledger.”
He looked directly at me.
“And now she has my son.”
I couldn't breathe. My own mother—the woman who had baked me birthday cakes and braided my hair—had faked her death, abandoned me, and just kidnapped a six-year-old boy?
“I need to go to this address,” Luca said, slipping his phone into his pocket.
“I’m coming with you,” I said instantly.
“No, Hannah. It’s too dangerous.”
“She’s my mother, Luca!” I shouted, surprising myself with the ferocity in my voice. “She lied to me for seven years! I thought I was an orphan! If she has your son, I’m the only one who can get through to her.”
Luca stared at me. He saw the fire in my eyes, the absolute desperation for the truth.
He nodded once.
“George,” Luca said. “Take my mother to the safe house. Lock the doors. Don't answer for anyone but me.”
“We’ll be safe, son,” George promised. He gently helped Teresa to her feet.
Teresa reached out and squeezed my hand.
“Bring my grandson home, Hannah,” she whispered.
Ten minutes later, Luca and I were in his black SUV, tearing through the rain-slicked streets of Chicago.
The address on the text message led us to the South Side, to a neighborhood of abandoned warehouses near the old train yards.
Luca parked the SUV two blocks away in the shadows of a broken streetlight.
“Stay behind me,” Luca ordered, reaching for the gun in his jacket.
“The text said no guns,” I reminded him.
Luca looked at me coldly. “I don't follow rules when my son is involved.”
We walked through the freezing rain, our footsteps splashing in the deep puddles. The address belonged to a derelict brick warehouse with boarded-up windows.
A single side door was propped open, a sliver of yellow light spilling out into the alley.
Luca pushed the door open with his shoulder, his gun raised.
I stepped in behind him, my heart hammering in my throat.
The warehouse was massive and empty, save for a single black SUV parked in the center.
Sitting on the hood of the car, swinging his legs and eating a chocolate bar, was a little boy with dark curly hair.
Leo.
“Daddy!” the boy yelled, his face lighting up.
He hopped off the car and ran toward us.
Luca dropped his gun and fell to his knees, catching the boy in his arms. He buried his face in Leo’s neck, holding him so tightly I thought he might never let go.
“I got you, buddy,” Luca choked out, tears mixing with the rain on his face. “I got you.”
I smiled, overwhelmed with relief.
But the relief vanished the moment a voice echoed from the shadows behind the car.
“He’s a brave boy, Luca.”
A woman stepped into the light.
She was older, her hair completely gray now, but her posture was exactly the same as I remembered. She wore a heavy beige trench coat and held a thick manila envelope in her hands.
“Mom?” I whispered, my voice breaking.
Clara Collins stopped walking. She looked at me, and for a split second, the hardened facade cracked. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, Hannah,” she breathed. “My beautiful girl. Look how much you’ve grown.”
I took a step toward her, but Luca stood up instantly, pushing Leo behind him and raising his gun.
“Don't move, Clara,” Luca commanded.
“I didn't hurt him, Luca,” my mother said calmly, holding her hands up to show she was unarmed. “I saved him.”
“You kidnapped him from his school!”
“I intercepted him!” my mother yelled back. “Marco was five minutes behind me! If I hadn't taken Leo, Carlo Bellini would have his head in a box right now!”
Luca hesitated, his finger hovering over the trigger.
“Why did you come out of hiding, Mom?” I cried, unable to hold back the pain. “Why did you leave me?!”
My mother looked at me, her face crumbling with guilt.
“I left to protect you, Hannah. Carlo put a hit on me seven years ago because I refused to cook the books for him. If they knew I was alive, they would have used you to get to me.”
She looked back at Luca.
“Frank helped me fake my death. He promised me he would watch over you.”
My jaw dropped.
“That’s why I got the job at the Moretti house,” I realized. “I thought it was a coincidence.”
“Frank always protected his own,” my mother said.
She walked slowly toward Luca and tossed the thick manila envelope onto the floor between them.
“What is this?” Luca asked, not lowering the gun.
“That’s the original ledger,” my mother said. “The one Carlo Bellini has been hunting for seven years. It proves he ordered the hit on Vanessa’s father to take control of the family.”
Luca frowned. “Vanessa’s father?”
“Yes,” my mother said. “Carlo murdered his own brother. And Vanessa doesn't know.”
Before Luca could process the massive revelation, the massive metal garage doors of the warehouse suddenly rattled.
The sound of three heavily armored vehicles tearing into the alley echoed through the empty building.
Bright headlights flooded the windows.
“They tracked my car,” my mother panicked, looking around wildly. “Carlo’s men are here.”
Luca grabbed Leo, shoving him into my arms.
“Take him and run to the back exit, Hannah!” Luca yelled, raising his weapon toward the door.
But as the garage doors violently breached open, it wasn't Carlo Bellini who stepped out of the lead vehicle.
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It was Vanessa.
And she was holding a shotgun.
