Chapter 4
Dante took me upstairs to a private room above the restaurant.
I went because Nico would not stop screaming unless I was near him.
That was the reason I told myself.
Not because I wanted answers.
Not because the photograph behind the bar felt like a wound calling my name.
The room above Bellagio smelled like leather, old wine, and cigar smoke.
Family photos covered the walls.
Sofia was everywhere.
Laughing in a red dress.
Holding Nico as a newborn.
Standing beside Dante under white garden lights.
Each picture made my skin crawl.
Not because she looked like me.
Because she looked like a life I had been denied.
Dante handed Nico to me.
The baby calmed instantly.
His tiny fist curled against my shirt.
Dante watched him.
“He has not slept peacefully since she died.”
“How did she die?”
He turned toward the window.
“Car accident.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she called me that night. She said she had found something about her birth. She said it involved my family.”
My chest tightened.
“Did she say my name?”
“No. But she said I had to meet someone.”
I looked at Sofia’s photograph on the wall.
“She was looking for me.”
“I think so.”
The door opened.
A man with silver hair entered without knocking.
Everyone in the room stiffened.
Dante’s voice went cold.
“Silvio.”
So this was the brother.
Elegant suit.
Dragon tattoo on his wrist.
Smile sharp enough to cut.
His eyes landed on me.
For a second, his face went blank.
Then he smiled.
“Well,” he said. “The dead girl had a spare.”
Dante moved toward him.
Guards stepped between them.
I stood, still holding Nico.
“What did you do to my mother?”
Silvio laughed softly.
“Which mother?”
The room tilted.
Dante froze.
Silvio looked delighted.
“You really don’t know.”
I swallowed hard.
“Know what?”
He leaned closer.
“You were not born Mara Hayes.”
May you like
Then he looked at Dante.
“She was born Bellagio.”
