Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Was Buried TwiceThe emergency lights flickered on three seconds after the gunshot.
Casius had already drawn his weapon.
He pushed Nadia behind the marble fitting table and signaled Mrs. Bellini to stay low.
“Don't move,” he ordered.
A second shot echoed through the Leone estate.
Then came the sound of running feet, a crash, and a voice screaming for someone to call an ambulance.
Nadia's mind struggled to keep up.
The gown tangled around her ankles. The room seemed suddenly smaller, the walls pressing inward. She had spent three years working in a building where armed guards stood at every entrance, but the violence had always existed at a comfortable distance. It belonged to other people, to other rooms, to conversations that stopped when she entered.
Now it had followed her upstairs.
Casius checked his phone.
No signal.
The estate's internal security system had gone dark.
“That isn't a power failure,” he said.
“How do you know?” Nadia whispered.
“Because the backup lights work, but the cameras don't.”
He moved toward the door.
“Stay here.”
Nadia looked at the gown, the opened seam, the brass key he had pocketed.
Then she looked at Mrs. Bellini, who was trembling so badly that she could barely hold the edge of the table.
“Is the woman in the photograph my mother?”
The seamstress closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
The single word struck harder than the gunshot.
Nadia gripped the table.
“You said you didn't know who I was.”
“I didn't. Not until I saw the scar.”
“Who was she?”
Mrs. Bellini pressed both palms against her face.
“Her name was Elena Leone.”
Casius stopped at the door.
Slowly, he turned around.
“My grandmother had no daughter named Elena.”
“She did.”
“My family records say Victoria had one son. My grandfather died before I was born, and my father was her only child.”
“Those records were changed.”
Casius crossed the room so quickly that the old woman flinched.
“By whom?”
“Your father. My husband helped him.”
For a moment, the only sound was the faint electrical hum of the emergency lights.
Casius lowered his weapon.
“You married into this family?”
Mrs. Bellini nodded.
“My real name is Isabella Moretti. I was married to Paolo Bellini, the man who maintained Victoria's private accounts. He died in 1993. Until tonight, I believed I was the only person left who knew what happened.”
“You've been sewing our family's clothes for thirty years,” Casius said. “You've attended our funerals, our weddings, our private ceremonies. You've watched me grow up.”
“I was trying to protect someone.”
“Who?”
Mrs. Bellini looked at Nadia.
“Your mother.”
Nadia shook her head.
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because the last person who tried to tell you the truth disappeared.”
The words settled over the room like dust after an explosion.
Nadia thought of her childhood apartment. The locked tin box. The woman who used to visit twice without knocking. The times Anna had packed their belongings overnight, insisting they needed a fresh start.
She had thought her mother was frightened of losing their home.
Now she wondered how many nights Anna had spent listening for footsteps outside their door.
“Tell me everything,” Nadia said.
Mrs. Bellini took a shaky breath.
“Forty years ago, Victoria Leone fell in love with a man from the Rizzo family.”
Casius's expression turned cold.
“That is impossible.”
“It was forbidden. At the time, the two families were fighting over control of the shipping terminals along the East River. Men were being killed every week. Victoria was expected to marry into another powerful family, while Matteo Rizzo was being prepared to succeed his father.”
“Matteo,” Nadia repeated. “Gemma's grandfather?”
“Yes. They met in secret. And before anyone discovered their relationship, Victoria became pregnant.”
Casius stared at her.
“My grandmother's child was a Rizzo?”
“Her child was both a Leone and a Rizzo. That was the problem.”
Mrs. Bellini leaned forward.
“Victoria gave birth to a daughter in November 1986. Matteo wanted to acknowledge the baby, but his father threatened to kill the child if the truth became public. Victoria's own family feared that a child born from that relationship would undermine their control of the organization.”
“So they hid her,” Casius said.
“They pretended she had died.”
Nadia felt the room tilt.
“Where was my mother taken?”
“First to a safe house outside Albany. Then to a family who had no idea who she was. When she was old enough, Victoria arranged for her to live under another name. She became Anna Vale.”
Nadia's throat tightened.
“My mother knew?”
“She knew pieces. Victoria visited her when she could, but she was never allowed to tell Anna the entire truth. Matteo did the same. They were afraid that knowing everything would place her in danger.”
“Yet she died.”
Mrs. Bellini looked down.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Casius's voice became dangerous.
“You've had forty years to tell this story. Give me one reason I should believe it.”
“Because I have the original birth record.”
She reached beneath her blouse and pulled out a thin chain.
A small silver crescent hung from it, surrounded by three tiny stars.
The symbol from the photograph.
“Victoria gave one to Elena. The other was sewn into the gown. Your grandmother told me that one day, someone would need to prove the child had survived.”
Nadia stared at the necklace.
It was nearly identical to a pendant Anna had worn in every photograph Nadia remembered.
Her mother had never let her touch it.
“What happened to the other half?”
“The locket you found. It contains a compartment that can only be opened with the key.”
Casius removed the brass key from his pocket.
Before he could hand it to her, a heavy thud shook the door.
“Mr. Leone!” a guard shouted. “We need you downstairs. Now!”
Casius opened the door slightly.
“What happened?”
“Two men breached the east entrance. One is down. The other is missing. Your father has been shot.”
Casius's face changed.
For the first time that night, Nadia saw unguarded fear in his eyes.
“Is he alive?”
“Barely.”
Casius turned to Nadia.
“I'm going downstairs. You're coming with me.”
“I'm wearing a wedding dress.”
“Then we'd better hope the evening improves.”
He gave instructions to the guards, then pulled his overcoat from the chair and draped it over Nadia's shoulders. The gown's embroidered sleeves disappeared beneath the dark fabric.
As they left the fitting room, Nadia glanced back at the mirror.
The woman reflected there looked like someone she had never met.
Someone whose life had been planned long before she was born.
They reached the main staircase to find the entrance hall swimming with armed men and broken glass. A security officer was pressing a towel against the shoulder of Don Salvatore Leone, Casius's father, while another man shouted for the private doctor.
Salvatore's face was gray.
Casius dropped to one knee beside him.
“Father. Look at me.”
The older man struggled to focus.
“Did they get it?”
“Get what?”
Salvatore's gaze shifted to Nadia.
His eyes widened.
“No.”
The word came out as a breath.
“No, no, no.”
Nadia stopped several feet away.
The wounded man reached toward her, his fingers shaking.
“Anna?”
She could barely hear him.
“My mother was named Anna.”
Salvatore grabbed Casius's wrist.
“You must not let her open the vault.”
Casius leaned closer.
“Which vault?”
Salvatore coughed, leaving a streak of blood on his lips.
“The one beneath the church. Victoria hid the original agreement there.”
“What agreement?”
“The one proving that the Leones and the Rizzos built their empire on a murder.”
A siren sounded outside the gates.
Salvatore's grip tightened.
“Listen to me. The man who shot me wasn't here for money. He came for the girl.”
His eyes locked on Nadia.
“And if the Rizzos discover who she is, they'll finish what they started forty years ago.”
His hand slipped from Casius's wrist.
For one terrible second, Nadia believed he was dead.
Then Salvatore dragged in a breath.
He turned his head toward his son and whispered a name.
“Matteo.”
Casius stared at him.
“Matteo Rizzo has been dead for thirty-six years.”
Salvatore shook his head weakly.
“No. His body was.”
Before Casius could demand an explanation, the sound of an explosion ripped through the east wing.
Glass shattered overhead.
Someone screamed.
And every armed man in the entrance hall turned toward the burning corridor, where a figure emerged through the smoke carrying a long black envelope.
The figure lowered his hood.
Nadia recognized the face from the old photograph.
The dark-haired man standing beside Victoria Leone.
Matteo Rizzo.
He looked at Nadia and smiled sadly.
May you like
“Hello, Elena.”
Then he raised his gun toward Casius.
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