Chapter 4 – THE PHOTOGRAPH IN THE LIBRARY

I stared at the photograph, the air rushing out of my lungs.

My mother.

She looked so young, maybe twenty. Her smile was radiant, her eyes full of life. She was leaning her head against Vincenzo Moretti’s shoulder, her hand resting over his.

And the baby he was holding… it had a tiny birthmark shaped like a crescent moon on its left wrist.

I instinctively looked down at my own left wrist.

The crescent moon birthmark stared back at me.

My hands began to tremble so violently that the photograph shook in my grip.

Vincenzo Moretti wasn’t just Lorenzo’s uncle.

He was my father.

“Clara?”

Lorenzo’s deep voice echoed from the doorway.

I jumped, dropping the photograph back onto the carpet.

He walked into the library, his dark eyes instantly locking onto my pale face. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He looked down at the floor, saw the scattered pictures, and knelt to help me pick them up.

His hand brushed over the photo of Vincenzo and my mother.

Lorenzo stopped.

He picked it up, his brow furrowing. He looked at the woman in the picture, then up at me.

“Is this… is this your mother?” he asked, his voice thick with disbelief.

Tears spilled over my eyelashes. “Yes. And the baby…” I turned my wrist over, showing him the birthmark. “I think the baby is me.”

Lorenzo stood up slowly, the photograph still in his hand.

“Vincenzo was your father,” Lorenzo whispered, the pieces clicking together in his mind. “That means… you’re my cousin.”

My mind spun. I was a maid in this house. I had cleaned their floors, washed their clothes, and accepted their charity. And all this time, I carried Moretti blood.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” I cried softly. “My mother died telling me my father was a factory worker who abandoned us.”

“Because she was terrified,” Evelyn’s voice came from the hallway.

We both turned.

Evelyn stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on her cane. Her eyes were full of profound sorrow.

“She was trying to keep you alive, Clara,” Evelyn said softly.

Lorenzo walked toward his mother. “You knew, Ma? You knew Clara was family and you let her work here as a servant?”

“It was the only way to keep her close without drawing the Bellamys’ attention!” Evelyn pleaded, gripping her cane. “Twenty-five years ago, Vincenzo discovered that the Bellamy family was embezzling money from our legitimate businesses. He gathered proof to destroy them.”

Evelyn walked slowly into the room and sat in a leather armchair.

“But Arthur Bellamy found out,” she continued, her voice trembling. “He threatened Vincenzo. He said if Vincenzo went to the police, Arthur would murder Vincenzo’s secret lover—your mother, Clara—and you, their newborn baby.”

I covered my mouth with both hands, a sob escaping my throat.

“Vincenzo loved you both too much,” Evelyn said, wiping a tear. “So he made a deal. He gave Arthur all his money, took the blame for the missing funds, and bought that train ticket to leave the country forever. He was going to take you and your mother into hiding.”

“But Arthur killed him on the way to the station,” Lorenzo finished, his jaw clenched so tight it looked carved from granite.

“Yes,” Evelyn cried. “Arthur killed him, stole the evidence, and kept the money. Your mother was devastated, Clara. She changed her name and hid in the poorest parts of the city to keep you safe from the Bellamys.”

I sank onto a footstool, burying my face in my hands. My entire life had been a lie built on a sacrifice I never knew about.

Lorenzo knelt beside me. He didn’t touch me, but his presence was a heavy, protective shield.

“Cassandra’s father destroyed your family,” Lorenzo said quietly. “And then he sent his daughter here to finish destroying mine.”

He stood up, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying fire.

“I’m going to end the Bellamy family tonight.”

Before Lorenzo could reach the door, the heavy brass telephone on his desk began to ring.

Lorenzo picked it up. “Yes.”

He listened for three seconds. The color drained from his face.

He slammed the phone down.

“That was security,” Lorenzo said, his voice raw. “Cassandra just escaped the basement. She stabbed a guard with a hidden hairpin.”

He looked at his mother.

“And she took the master keys to the medicine cabinet.”

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