Chapter 10 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to DieMy death certificate had already been signed before I knew I was in danger.
I stared at the paper.
My name.
My date of birth.
My signature.
I had never signed it.
But someone had forged it perfectly.
Margaret sat calmly across from us.
“You have one night.”
Alessandro pointed a gun at her.
“You're done.”
She smiled.
“You think a gun solves this?”
“No.”
His finger tightened.
“But it simplifies conversations.”
She laughed.
“You are exactly like your father.”
Alessandro froze.
“You knew my father.”
“I knew him better than anyone.”
“What did he do?”
Margaret looked at me.
“He destroyed Marina's life.”
“Why?”
“Because she discovered the truth about Sophia.”
I leaned forward.
“Who is Sophia?”
Margaret's expression changed.
“Your sister.”
“Elise?”
“No.”
“Mia?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Margaret slid another photograph toward me.
A newborn.
Blue blanket.
Tiny face.
A bracelet marked S.
On the back:
DELIVERED TO HOUSEHOLD.
“Whose household?”
Margaret looked at Alessandro.
“Yours.”
My stomach dropped.
“You mean Sophia lived in the Duca estate?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Eight months.”
“Where is she now?”
Margaret looked down.
“Dead.”
I stopped breathing.
Alessandro stepped forward.
“That's a lie.”
“She died six months ago.”
“Cause?”
“Poison.”
The room went silent.
“Who poisoned her?”
Margaret's eyes met mine.
“Someone who knew the succession clause.”
Alessandro looked at his own staff files.
“Who?”
Margaret didn't answer.
Instead, she said:
“You have one more problem.”
“What?”
“The board has been called.”
“For what?”
“To transfer the Duca empire.”
“To whom?”
She smiled.
“To Sophia.”
I stared.
“But she's dead.”
“Exactly.”
Alessandro understood first.
“They're transferring control to a dead heir.”
“Because they have proof she is alive.”
I looked at Margaret.
“You forged her death?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
She stood.
“Your mother.”
That sentence destroyed the room.
“My mother is alive?”
Margaret nodded.
“She has been hiding for eight months.”
“Where?”
Margaret's eyes moved to Mia.
“With the real baby.”
I stopped.
“She took Mia?”
“No.”
“The other one.”
“Elena, listen carefully.”
She leaned closer.
“The baby you have been protecting is not the child Marina wanted to save.”
My chest hurt.
“Then who is she?”
Margaret whispered:
“The child Marina stole from the Duca family twenty-seven years ago.”
I stared at Mia.
“What?”
“She stole an infant.”
“Whose?”
“Vittorio's.”
“Then how is she only eight months old?”
Margaret smiled.
“She isn't.”
My skin went cold.
“What are you saying?”
Margaret's voice became a whisper.
“Mia isn't eight months old in the way you think.”
Alessandro stepped forward.
“Explain.”
“She was born twenty-seven years ago.”
I looked at my baby.
The room blurred.
Impossible.
No.
Babies did not age backward.
But then Margaret opened one final file.
A photograph.
A woman.
Twenty-seven years old.
The same eyes.
The same crescent birthmark.
The same face as my baby.
Except older.
Alessandro stared.
“This is impossible.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
She looked at me.
“It's classified science.”
A knock sounded.
A nurse entered.
She carried a medical file.
“She's awake.”
I looked at Margaret.
“Who?”
The nurse answered.
“Marina Bellini.”
My mother.
May you like
Alive.
After twenty-seven years.
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