I WAS TOLD TO CUT OFF LUCA MORETTI’S 76-YEAR-OLD MOTHER IF HER BIRTHDAY TOAST STARTED “GETTING CONFUSED.”

Chapter 2 – THE TICKET TO NOWHERE

I couldn’t breathe.

The woman standing next to Luca was older, thinner, and her hair was cut differently.

But the eyes were the same.

The bone structure.

The slight tilt of her chin.

It was Elena.

Adriana backed against the wall, her hands gripping the edge of the coat rack.

Luca stepped into the small room.

He looked at Adriana.

Then he looked at me holding the silver locket.

He didn’t yell.

He didn’t scream.

He walked up to me and gently took the locket from my hands.

He looked at the open picture.

He saw Adriana holding the newborn baby.

He saw the inscription.

He closed it.

Then he turned to the woman standing beside him.

“Is this true?” he asked her.

The woman nodded slowly.

“Yes.”

Luca’s chest heaved.

He looked at Adriana.

“You told me she died in the crash.”

Adriana was weeping now.

“Luca, please—”

“You identified the body.”

“I had to!”

“You watched me bury an empty casket?!”

Adriana fell to her knees.

“It wasn’t empty!” she screamed.

The room went dead silent.

Rosa had just appeared in the doorway.

She heard it.

“What do you mean it wasn’t empty?” Rosa asked.

Her voice was trembling.

Adriana looked up at her mother.

“Mom, go away.”

“Adriana, who is in that grave?” Luca demanded.

Adriana shook her head.

“I can’t.”

Luca grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet.

“Who is in my wife’s grave?!”

The woman standing next to Luca—Elena—finally spoke.

“My sister.”

Luca turned to her.

“You don’t have a sister.”

“I did,” Elena whispered. “She was driving my car that night.”

I stood perfectly still in the corner of the coat room.

I felt like I was watching a building collapse in slow motion.

Luca let go of Adriana.

He stepped away from both of them.

“You let me mourn your sister.”

“Luca—”

“You let Sophie grow up without a mother.”

Elena stepped forward, her eyes filled with tears.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Why?”

Elena reached into her purse.

She pulled out a crumpled, faded piece of paper.

It was a train ticket.

Dated eight years ago.

The night of the crash.

She handed it to Luca.

“Because if I hadn’t disappeared,” she said, her voice breaking. “He would have killed me.”

Luca stared at the ticket.

Then at his wife.

“Who?”

Elena looked at Rosa.

Then she looked back at Luca.

“Your father.”

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