Chapter 2 - THE PHOTOGRAPH IN HIS POCKET
The private elevator opened into an underground garage where three black SUVs waited with engines running.
I stopped walking.
“Luca.”
He turned.
“I need an answer.”
“You’ll get one.”
“Now.”
His bodyguard looked at him.
Luca gave a tiny nod.
The man stepped away.
That made me more nervous.
Luca reached inside his jacket.
For one terrible second, I thought of a weapon.
Instead, he pulled out an old photograph.
The edges were worn.
The colors had faded.
He handed it to me.
My heart stopped.
The woman in the picture looked almost exactly like me.
Same dark hair.
Same green eyes.
Same small scar above the left eyebrow.
But she was older.
And standing beside her was a much younger Luca.
I looked at him.
“Who is she?”
“Her name was Sofia.”
“Was?”
“She died eight years ago.”
Something in his voice changed.
I looked at the photograph again.
“Why does she look like me?”
“Because she was your sister.”
The garage seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
“I don’t have a sister.”
“You did.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“My mother had one child.”
“That is what you were told.”
“By my mother.”
“Yes.”
“You’re calling her a liar?”
“I’m saying she was afraid.”
I stared at him.
“Afraid of what?”
“Of my family.”
My arms tightened around the baby.
I suddenly wanted distance between us.
Luca noticed.
He took one step back.
“Sofia was twenty-four when I met her.”
“And?”
“And she became pregnant.”
My chest tightened.
“With your child?”
“Yes.”
The word landed hard.
I looked down at my baby.
“Where is that child?”
Luca’s expression went cold.
“We were told she died with Sofia.”
“We?”
“My father arranged everything.”
I didn’t like the way he said that.
“What does this have to do with me?”
He looked at my daughter.
“I recently found evidence that Sofia’s child may have survived.”
I felt sick.
“And you think that child is me?”
“No.”
He paused.
“I think you are Sofia’s younger sister.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Then why were you at the hospital?”
“Because someone has been watching you for six months.”
My blood went cold.
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“It isn’t.”
One of the SUVs pulled closer.
The driver opened the rear door.
Luca gestured toward it.
“We need to leave.”
I didn’t move.
“I’m not getting into that car until you tell me everything.”
His eyes met mine.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face changed.
“What?”
He answered.
“Speak.”
Silence.
Then Luca looked straight at me.
“How long ago?”
Another pause.
“Lock the building.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
Luca stepped toward me.
“Someone broke into your apartment.”
My breath disappeared.
“What?”
“They didn’t steal anything.”
“Then why—”
“They left something.”
I barely managed the next question.
“What?”
Luca held my gaze.
“A photograph of your daughter.”
I looked down at the sleeping baby in my arms.
“She was born less than two hours ago.”
“I know.”
My voice cracked.
“How could anyone already have a picture of her?”
May you like
Luca opened the SUV door himself.
“That,” he said quietly, “is why you’re coming with me.”
