Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO HAD BEEN D/E/@/D FOR NINE YEARS
My mother had been d/e/@/d for nine years.
At least, that was what I had been told.
I stood beneath the red emergency lights of my restaurant, staring at the photograph taped to the shattered front door.
ASK YOUR MOTHER ABOUT YOUR BROTHER.
The sentence made no sense.
Behind me, Lily held Eli against her chest while Marco ordered my men to sweep every room, hallway, roof access, and service entrance.
Nobody found anyone.
Whoever had left the photograph had vanished into the snow before we even reached the sidewalk.
“Dominic.”
Marco’s voice dragged me back.
“Look at the address.”
I turned the photograph over again.
742 West Briarwood.
I knew that address.
Not because I had ever lived there.
Because my mother had.
Long before I was born.
I stared at Marco.
“That house was demolished.”
“No.”
“What?”
He pulled out his phone.
“I checked.”
A photograph appeared on the screen.
A narrow brick building.
Three floors.
Boarded windows.
A rusted iron fence.
742 West Briarwood still existed.
My mother had lied about that too.
Lily approached quietly.
“Is that where we’re going?”
“No.”
Her expression hardened instantly.
“You said you weren’t sending me away.”
“I’m not.”
“Then don’t leave me behind.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
She had known me for hours and already understood that arguing with Dominic Moretti required meeting him at equal force.
“It may be dangerous.”
“So was my foster house.”
That ended the argument.
I looked at Marco.
“Vehicle downstairs. Dr. Caruso stays with Eli.”
Lily hugged the baby tighter.
“No.”
“Lily—”
“No.”
I crouched until we were eye level.
“If somebody is looking for Eli, the safest place for him is surrounded by men I trust.”
“And me?”
“The safest place for you is beside me.”
Her expression softened.
Only slightly.
“Then Eli stays beside me too.”
Marco coughed into his fist to hide a smile.
I ignored him.
Twenty minutes later, we drove through the snow toward West Briarwood.
Lily sat beside me.
Eli slept in a secured infant seat between us.
No one spoke.
Chicago passed outside the windows in blurred white streaks.
I kept thinking about my mother.
Lucia Moretti.
Elegant.
Cold.
Impossible to surprise.
She had raised me after my father’s world hardened around us.
She had told me my father had no siblings.
No surviving relatives.
No secrets worth knowing.
Apparently, all three statements were lies.
742 West Briarwood looked worse in person.
The building stood between two renovated townhouses like a decaying tooth nobody had managed to pull.
Marco approached the door first.
No lock.
That bothered me.
He pushed it open.
Dust.
Cold air.
Rotten wood.
No footprints except ours.
We entered.
The first floor was empty.
The second contained old furniture under sheets.
The third floor had only one room.
And one chair.
Placed directly in the center.
On the chair was an envelope.
My name was written across it.
Dominic.
I opened it.
Inside was a key.
Nothing else.
Lily pointed toward the wall.
“There.”
A small metal box had been embedded beneath peeling wallpaper.
The key fit.
I opened it.
Inside were three objects.
A faded photograph.
A cassette tape.
And my mother’s wedding ring.
My hand froze.
I picked up the photograph first.
My father stood in the center.
Beside him was a younger man who looked almost identical.
Same eyes.
Same jaw.
Same crooked smile.
On the back:
SALVATORE & MATTEO — 1978.
My father had a brother.
Matteo.
The man Anna had referenced.
Then Lily touched my sleeve.
“There’s another picture.”
Underneath the first photograph was a second.
My mother.
Standing beside Matteo.
Not my father.
She was smiling.
And she was pregnant.
I felt something inside me drop.
Marco looked at me.
“Dominic…”
I didn’t answer.
We found an old cassette player in a cabinet downstairs.
The tape clicked.
Static filled the room.
Then my mother’s voice.
Older.
Tired.
“Dominic, if you are hearing this, then Anna succeeded where I failed.”
Lily squeezed my hand.
My mother continued.
“Everything you were taught about this family began with a lie.”
I closed my eyes.
“Salvatore Moretti was your legal father. He raised you. He gave you his name. But biologically…”
The tape crackled.
“…you were Matteo’s son.”
Nobody moved.
I stared at the cassette player.
The room seemed to narrow around me.
Matteo Moretti.
Not my uncle.
My father.
My mother continued.
“Matteo wanted out of the family business. Salvatore did not. They became enemies.”
Her voice broke.
“I loved Matteo.”
Lily’s hand tightened around mine.
“But your grandfather would never have allowed his younger son to walk away with the family’s legitimate businesses, so Matteo disappeared.”
Disappeared.
Not d/e/@/d.
Not yet.
My mother said, “Salvatore agreed to raise you as his own because public scandal would have weakened the family. I convinced myself it was protection.”
A pause.
“I was wrong.”
I couldn’t breathe properly.
“Years later, Matteo contacted me. He had built another life. He had a son.”
I looked at Eli.
My half-brother.
No.
Impossible.
The dates.
Matteo would have been too old to be Eli’s father.
Then the answer hit.
Matteo had a son.
My brother.
And that man had a child.
Eli.
My nephew.
My mother’s voice continued.
“Matteo’s son, Adrian, became a physician specializing in genetics. He discovered that certain private agencies were trading confidential medical records to wealthy clients seeking children with specific hereditary profiles.”
Anna’s investigation.
Safe Harbor.
Daniel Mercer.
Everything converged.
“Adrian tried to expose them. Anna helped him.”
Then my mother said the words that changed everything again.
“Adrian is alive.”
Lily gasped.
Marco looked at me.
My mother continued.
“If Eli reaches you, Adrian has either gone into hiding or been taken.”
The cassette stopped.
That was it.
No goodbye.
No instructions.
Nothing.
Then a floorboard creaked behind us.
Marco spun.
His hand disappeared beneath his jacket.
“Don’t.”
A woman’s voice.
Old.
Weak.
Familiar.
I turned.
She stood in the doorway wearing a dark wool coat.
White hair.
Thin face.
But unmistakable eyes.
My knees almost gave way.
“Mother?”
Lucia Moretti looked at me.
Nine years after I had buried an empty casket beneath her name.
She whispered:
“Hello, Dominic.”
I could not move.
Lily stared between us.
Marco looked as if reality itself had become unreliable.
I took one step.
“You’re d/e/@/d.”
My mother smiled sadly.
“No.”
“I buried you.”
“You buried what Salvatore’s remaining people needed you to believe.”
My hands shook.
“You let me mourn you.”
“I let you survive.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I know.”
For the first time, the great Lucia Moretti looked ashamed.
Then Eli woke.
He made a tiny sound.
My mother’s face changed instantly.
She looked at him.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Adrian’s boy.”
Lily stepped protectively in front of the infant seat.
Lucia nodded.
“You must be Lily.”
“How do you know me?”
“Anna sent me photographs.”
Lily’s voice cracked.
“You knew my mom?”
“For eleven years.”
I turned sharply.
“You knew Anna was alive?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew about Lily?”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt more than anything else.
“You knew I had a daughter.”
“Yes.”
I laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Wonderful.”
“Dominic—”
“No.”
My voice shook the room.
“You do not get to say my name like you have the right to calm me.”
Lily stared at me.
I lowered my voice immediately.
My mother noticed.
“So that part of you survived.”
“What part?”
“The part Anna trusted.”
I hated that sentence.
I hated that Anna had trusted something in me while refusing to come home.
Lucia moved slowly toward a table.
“There isn’t much time.”
“There never seems to be with this family.”
“Adrian contacted me four days ago.”
Everything in me sharpened.
“What did he say?”
“That Eli had been found.”
“By whom?”
“The Helix Circle.”
Marco frowned.
“What is that?”
“Not a street organization. Not a single company. A network.”
Lucia looked at Lily.
“Wealthy people. Lawyers. private clinics. adoption brokers. executives. They purchased confidential genetic data for years.”
“For what purpose?”
“Control.”
“Over children?”
“Over inheritance. illness risk. biological parentage. family lines.”
I felt sick.
“They wanted Eli because Adrian copied everything they had.”
“Where is the copy?”
Lucia looked at the baby.
Lily immediately stepped back.
“No.”
My mother shook her head.
“Not inside him.”
“Then what?”
“His hospital bracelet.”
I remembered the genetic screening.
Lucia continued.
“Adrian encoded a retrieval key in Eli’s medical profile. The hospital band is only one piece.”
Marco exhaled.
“So somebody needs the child to identify the records.”
“Yes.”
I looked at my mother.
“Where is Adrian?”
“I don’t know.”
Then headlights swept across the boarded windows.
Marco moved immediately.
Three vehicles stopped outside.
My mother’s face drained.
“They found us.”
The front door slammed open downstairs.
Boots thundered across the floor.
Lily grabbed Eli.
I pulled her behind me.
Marco’s men moved to intercept.
A voice shouted from below.
“Dominic Moretti!”
Not frightened.
Not cautious.
Official.
“Chicago Police! Hands where we can see them!”
Marco looked at me.
“This isn’t right.”
I agreed.
The two officers from the restaurant knew where we were.
They hadn’t called a tactical unit.
Someone else had.
My mother grabbed my arm.
“Do not trust anyone wearing a badge tonight.”
The stairwell filled with footsteps.
Then a familiar voice called from below.
“Mr. Moretti!”
It was the older officer from the restaurant.
“Stay upstairs!”
A burst of chaos followed.
Shouting.
Glass shattering.
Then silence.
Lily whispered, “What happened?”
I didn’t answer.
A phone began ringing.
Not mine.
Lucia reached into her coat.
Her phone.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A man said:
“Lucia.”
Her face changed.
I recognized fear.
Real fear.
The caller continued.
“You should have stayed d/e/@/d.”
My mother whispered:
“Adrian?”
The voice laughed.
“No.”
May you like
Then the line went quiet.
And downstairs, someone began climbing the stairs alone.
