Chapter 4 - The Key Under BellanoteMy mother's secret was beneath the restaurant
I didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Dante.
Sophia finally passed out beside me around three in the morning, clutching the corner of my sweater.
Dante stood by the window.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"About what?"
"That my mother might be alive."
He didn't answer.
"I deserve an answer."
"I thought Lucia was dead."
"You said she disappeared."
"I was trying to find her."
"For three days?"
"For three years."
I stared at him.
"Three years?"
He nodded.
"Lucia disappeared once before."
"When?"
"After Sophia was born."
I looked at the little girl sleeping beside me.
"What happened?"
"She returned six months later."
"Why?"
"She said she needed to protect Sophia."
"From you?"
"From the Russo family."
I didn't know what to believe anymore.
The next morning, Dante drove me back to Bellanote.
The restaurant looked normal.
Too normal.
Breakfast customers laughed.
Servers carried coffee.
A musician tuned a piano.
Nobody would ever guess blood had been spilled there the previous night.
Tony locked the front doors.
"We close today."
"Why?"
He glanced at Dante.
"Boss said so."
Dante looked at me.
"The key."
Victor's brass key rested in my palm.
We went into the basement.
Old wine racks lined the walls.
Tony had worked there for fifteen years.
He swore he'd never seen a hidden room.
But the key opened one.
A narrow steel door behind a shelving unit.
Inside was a forgotten storage room.
Dust.
Broken boxes.
An old wooden desk.
And a faded sign on the wall.
VALDEZ BAKERY.
I stared at it.
Dante looked at me.
"Your family owned this?"
"My mother never told me."
We searched.
Nothing.
Then Sophia wandered into the room.
She stopped.
She pointed at the floor.
"There."
I knelt.
A loose board.
Beneath it was a metal box.
Inside was a leather journal.
A photograph.
And a cassette tape.
The photograph showed two young women.
My mother.
Lucia.
Pregnant.
I flipped it over.
Three words were written on the back.
WE WERE NEVER SISTERS.
My fingers went numb.
"What does that mean?"
Dante took the photograph.
"Maybe they're not twins."
I looked at the women again.
They were identical.
Same eyes.
Same smile.
Same necklace.
Then I saw something I'd missed.
A baby blanket.
Two babies.
Two tiny names embroidered in the corner.
ELINA.
LUCIA.
I dropped the photograph.
"No."
Dante stared at it.
"Elina."
I shook my head.
"That's impossible."
The cassette had no label.
Dante found an old player in a cabinet.
We pressed play.
Static.
Then a woman's voice.
My mother's.
I hadn't heard it in eleven years.
"Elina, if you're hearing this, I'm sorry."
I couldn't breathe.
"Don't trust the Russo who tells you he wants to protect you."
Dante went rigid.
My mother's voice continued.
"One of them already knows you're alive."
Then another voice appeared behind hers.
Male.
Cold.
"You're too late."
The tape clicked off.
I looked at Dante.
"What does that mean?"
He didn't answer.
Then Tony screamed from upstairs.
We ran.
The front door was open.
A trail of blood crossed the floor.
And on the bar sat a note.
Dante picked it up.
He read it silently.
Then handed it to me.
Five words.
THE GIRL IS THE KEY.
I looked at Sophia.
She was standing beside the piano.
Holding something in her tiny fist.
May you like
A second brass key.
And this one had Dante's initials engraved on it.
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