Chapter 6 - Seven Years MissingI stared at the photograph.
No.
Impossible.
I knew that corridor.
I recognized the fluorescent lights.
The cracked vending machine.
The hospital curtains.
But I had no memory of being there.
Dante sat beside me.
“That's you.”
“I don't remember.”
“The date is on the photograph.”
I looked.
Seven years ago.
My fingers tightened.
“What happened to me?”
“I don't know.”
“You said you had everything.”
“I thought I did.”
He reached into a folder.
Medical records.
Hospital names.
Police reports.
A missing-person notice.
My name.
My photograph.
Everything stopped.
“I was missing?”
“For eleven months.”
I couldn't breathe.
“My family…”
Dante shook his head.
“No family.”
“What?”
“You were placed in foster care when you were nine.”
I stared.
He continued.
“You disappeared when you were eighteen.”
“And nobody found me?”
“You were found.”
“When?”
“Eleven months later.”
“Where?”
He looked at me.
“In the same hospital.”
My mind spun.
“Why don't I remember?”
“Because someone erased the records.”
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
Silence filled the vehicle.
Then Dante asked:
“What happened to your memories?”
“I thought I remembered my whole life.”
“You remember what someone allowed you to remember.”
The sentence made my blood turn cold.
He showed me another photograph.
Luca.
Standing outside that hospital.
Then another.
Dante's father.
Then another.
Matteo's mother.
A woman I'd never seen.
Everyone connected.
Everyone except me.
Except now I was at the center.
“I don't understand.”
Dante leaned forward.
“You didn't randomly save my son.”
“What?”
“You were positioned near him.”
“No.”
“The glass was planted.”
“No.”
“Someone knew exactly where you would stand.”
I shook my head.
“You're saying someone planned all of this seven years ago?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dante hesitated.
Then he said:
“To bring me to you.”
The words struck like lightning.
“What?”
“You are not the accident.”
“What am I?”
Dante's eyes locked onto mine.
“The message.”
Before I could respond, the SUV stopped.
One of his men opened the door.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found the person who sent the photograph.”
Dante stepped out.
I followed.
We entered an abandoned warehouse.
A man sat tied to a chair.
Blood stained his shirt.
He looked terrified.
Dante stood in front of him.
“Who gave you the photograph?”
The man shook.
“I don't know.”
Dante grabbed his jaw.
“Try again.”
“I swear.”
“Who?”
The man looked at me.
Then whispered:
“She knows.”
I stepped back.
“What?”
He smiled.
“You don't remember the night your brother died.”
Dante froze.
“What did you say?”
The man's eyes widened.
“I said nothing.”
Dante's hand tightened.
The man laughed nervously.
“Ask her.”
Dante slowly turned toward me.
“Who is your brother?”
I shook my head.
“I don't have a brother.”
The man started laughing.
“Not yours.”
He pointed at Dante.
“His.”
Then he said the words that shattered everything.
“Luca wasn't trying to kill Matteo.”
May you like
He looked directly at me.
“He was trying to stop you from remembering who killed your mother.”
