Chapter 2 - THE NAME SHE BURIED
Nobody touched their food.
Nico held the brass medallion between two fingers.
“Where did you get this?”
Serena’s expression recovered quickly.
“Antique market.”
Teresa gave a dry laugh.
“No.”
Serena looked toward her.
Teresa was seventy-two.
Small.
Silver-haired.
And more frightening than most of the armed men in the room.
“That mark belongs to the Rinaldi family,” she said. “They stopped putting it on public jewelry forty years ago.”
Serena shrugged.
“Then somebody sold one.”
Nico looked toward Rafael.
“Run her full background again.”
Serena laughed.
“You already investigated me before we met.”
“Apparently not well enough.”
The second phone on the table vibrated.
Everyone looked at it.
One message appeared on the screen.
Did you get both pieces?
Nico picked up the phone.
Serena lunged for it.
Rafael caught her wrist.
She froze.
Nico looked at the message.
“Both pieces?”
Serena said nothing.
“What is the second piece?”
Nothing.
Nico stepped closer.
“Where is my necklace?”
She stared at him.
Then smiled.
Not the elegant smile she used at charity dinners.
Not the warm smile she used in photographs.
This one had no softness in it.
“You really don’t know anything about the things your family owns, do you?”
Teresa whispered,
“Serena…”
The woman turned toward her.
“My name isn’t Serena.”
The room seemed to contract.
Nico’s voice lowered.
“What is it?”
She looked directly at him.
“Serafina.”
Teresa’s hand went to her mouth.
Nico did not understand yet.
Then Rafael’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His eyes flicked toward Serena.
Then he ended the call.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The identity Serena Vale was built twenty years ago. Birth certificate exists, school records exist, tax records exist.”
Nico waited.
Rafael continued.
“But before age nineteen, there are no photographs.”
Serena’s smile widened.
Rafael looked at her.
“We ran an archived family file.”
He turned his phone toward Nico.
On the screen was an old photograph.
A funeral outside a stone church.
Men in black coats.
Women beneath umbrellas.
And standing beside an older man with hard eyes was a teenage girl.
Dark hair.
Same cheekbones.
Same mouth.
The caption beneath it read:
Serafina Rinaldi, daughter of Vittorio Rinaldi.
Nico stared at the photograph.
Then at the woman he had intended to marry.
The Bellandi family and the Rinaldi family had hated each other for more than fifty years.
Territory.
Money.
Bodies.
Four separate peace agreements had failed.
Nico’s grandfather had buried a brother because of the Rinaldis.
Vittorio Rinaldi had buried two sons because of the Bellandis.
And Nico had just spent three years sleeping beside Vittorio Rinaldi’s daughter.
“You’re a Rinaldi.”
Serafina said nothing.
Nico’s voice became quieter.
“How long?”
She held his gaze.
“Long enough.”
“To do what?”
Still nothing.
Then a small voice came from the doorway.
“Uncle Nico?”
Everyone turned.
A six-year-old boy stood beneath the carved archway wearing blue superhero pajamas.
Tomas.
Nico’s nephew.
His sister Lucia’s only child.
Lucia Bellandi had died three years earlier when her car went through a guardrail outside Lake Forest.
Police called it an accident.
No Bellandi believed that.
Nico immediately crossed the room.
“Tomas. You should be asleep.”
“I heard yelling.”
He carried a folded sheet of drawing paper.
“And I made this.”
Nico crouched.
“Come here.”
Tomas handed him the picture.
Crayon.
A house.
A long table.
A woman in red.
Serafina.
And beside her stood a tall man wearing black.
The woman was handing him something green.
A necklace.
Nico’s face changed.
“When did you see this?”
“Tuesday.”
Serafina stopped breathing.
Tomas pointed to the man.
“He was in the kitchen.”
Nico looked down at the drawing.
The man’s right hand was covered in black crayon.
A glove.
But a strip of red skin showed at the wrist.
Jagged black lines crossed it.
Scars.
Tomas looked at Serafina.
“She gave him the green necklace.”
Nobody moved.
Nico asked carefully,
“Do you know the man?”
Tomas shook his head.
Then paused.
“I saw him before.”
Nico’s eyes sharpened.
“Where?”
The little boy looked confused.
“When Mommy’s car broke.”
The dining room became completely silent.
Tomas pointed at the scarred hand.
“He was standing by the fire.”
Serafina closed her eyes.
May you like
Nico slowly rose.
His sister’s death had just stopped being an accident.
