Chapter 12 - The Baby Disappeared Before Sunrise
Adrian crossed the room faster than I thought possible.
Vincent turned.
Dante grabbed his gun arm.
The weapon fired into the ceiling.
I reached for Luca.
Vincent held tighter.
“No!”
I struck his wrist.
He cursed.
Adrian slammed him against the counter.
Luca slipped.
For one horrifying second, the baby was falling.
I caught him.
Barely.
His body hit my chest.
I dropped to my knees.
He screamed.
I held him.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
His tiny hands clutched my clothing.
The world around us became noise.
Shouting.
Police entering.
Dante on the floor.
Vincent restrained.
Adrian kneeling beside us.
“Luca.”
The baby saw him.
Reached.
Adrian took his son.
Then Luca did something I will never forget.
He placed one hand on Adrian’s face.
The other on mine.
As though making sure both of us were real.
Adrian laughed and cried at the same time.
So did I.
Paramedics checked Luca.
No injury.
Just frightened.
Dante had been shot in the shoulder.
Nonfatal.
Vincent was arrested.
Caleb’s involvement tied the entire case together.
For the first time in days, the immediate danger ended.
But consequences were beginning.
The story exploded in the media.
Not the entire truth.
Enough.
Old criminal networks.
Harbor fraud.
Corrupt officials.
Sofia Moretti’s suspicious death.
The rediscovery of her missing twin.
And an inheritance dispute worth hundreds of millions.
I became a headline.
WAITRESS DISCOVERS SHE IS MISSING HEIRESS.
I hated it.
People came to Orelio asking for selfies.
Carlo banned cameras near my section.
Then eventually banned me from working until things settled.
“You’re firing me?”
“No.”
“You said don’t come back.”
“For two weeks.”
“That sounds like firing.”
“You have journalists ordering coffee for six hours to stare at you.”
“Tips are good.”
“Go home.”
I smiled.
Home.
That word had become complicated.
My apartment didn’t feel safe anymore.
My mother’s house was under investigation.
Adrian’s estate had a nursery where Luca cried if I disappeared too long.
So I stayed there temporarily.
Temporarily became a vague concept.
One morning, I found Adrian asleep in a chair beside Luca’s crib.
Tie loosened.
Head tilted.
Exhausted.
The feared mafia boss looked completely harmless.
I took a blanket and covered him.
His eyes opened instantly.
“You sneak badly.”
“I wasn’t sneaking.”
“You were.”
“You wake like someone is trying to kill you.”
“Occupational habit.”
I looked at Luca.
“He slept?”
“Four hours.”
“Miracle.”
“Then screamed because I gave him the wrong bottle.”
“There are wrong bottles?”
“Apparently.”
I laughed.
Adrian watched me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s rarely true.”
He looked away.
“Sofia used to stand there.”
I followed his gaze.
Near the crib.
“She would argue with me about whether he was breathing.”
“What?”
“She checked constantly.”
“So do you.”
“Yes.”
“She was worried.”
“So am I.”
I sat nearby.
“Do you still love her?”
He looked surprised.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
Strangely, that answer comforted me.
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because if you said no after eleven months, I’d think something was wrong with you.”
His mouth curved.
“Do you think something is wrong with me anyway?”
“Several things.”
“Helpful.”
We sat quietly.
There was something growing between us.
I knew it.
He knew it.
Neither of us named it.
Maybe because it felt disloyal.
Maybe because grief required patience.
Maybe because I looked like Sofia and neither of us trusted what that meant.
So we didn’t rush.
Instead, we learned each other.
I learned Adrian drank terrible coffee.
He learned I hated roses.
I learned he secretly watched cooking competitions.
He learned I slept with the television on because silence made me anxious.
He learned I loved children but had never imagined having any.
I learned he was far softer with Luca than anyone expected.
My mother and Marco slowly repaired something between them too.
Not romance.
History.
Rosa apologized.
Marco listened.
Some wounds remained.
But neither wanted to die carrying the same anger.
Then the DNA case produced one final surprise.
Julian Vale was confirmed as our biological father using preserved family samples from a half-brother.
That activated a trust.
The money existed.
A lot of money.
But the trust terms required something unexpected.
The Valenti-Vale waterfront property could not be sold for ten years after heirs were confirmed.
It had to remain community-use or active commercial property.
Sofia had already drafted plans.
A family center.
Legal aid.
Childcare.
Restaurant training programs.
Housing support.
She had wanted the property turned into something useful.
I stared at her plans for hours.
Adrian sat beside me.
“She never told me.”
“She had a lot of secrets.”
“Yes.”
“Does that make you angry?”
“Sometimes.”
“Even now?”
“Especially now.”
I understood.
Dead people couldn’t answer questions.
That was one of grief’s cruelties.
We decided to continue Sofia’s project.
Not because she was perfect.
Because she had started something worth finishing.
Then Detective Harris called.
Vincent wanted to talk to me.
I refused initially.
She said:
“He claims he knows where Marco was during Sofia’s crash.”
I went.
Adrian came.
Vincent sat behind glass.
Older suddenly.
Smaller.
Power looked different without expensive rooms around it.
He smiled when he saw me.
“Elena.”
“Elina.”
“You still cling to Rosa’s name.”
“She raised me.”
“She lied.”
“So did you.”
Fair.
He leaned back.
“Marco didn’t kill Sofia.”
“I know.”
“He tried saving her.”
I froze.
“What?”
“After Caleb hit her car, Marco followed.”
My heart hammered.
“He reached the crash first.”
“Then why did he leave?”
“Because Dante arrived.”
I looked at Adrian.
Vincent continued.
“Marco believed Dante would call help.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“Marco left because he was still hiding.”
“That makes him a coward.”
“Yes.”
Vincent smiled faintly.
“But not a killer.”
I hated him.
Not because the information was false.
Because he delivered truth like another weapon.
“Why tell me?”
“Because I’m finished.”
“You want forgiveness?”
He laughed.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I want Dante punished more than me.”
There it was.
Even defeated, he still played games.
I stood.
“We’re done.”
“Elena.”
I stopped.
“Your mother was right about one thing.”
I turned.
“You were never meant to be taken.”
His face became unexpectedly serious.
“I intended to frighten Marco. I told men to prepare. Rosa moved first.”
“That doesn’t absolve you.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
I walked away.
Outside the prison, Adrian stopped me.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
I looked at him.
“I keep expecting the truth to make me feel better.”
“It rarely does.”
“What does?”
“Time.”
“That’s annoyingly mature.”
“I’m older than you.”
“Seven years.”
“Ancient.”
I laughed.
Then he looked at me differently.
The moment changed.
Quiet.
Dangerous in another way.
His hand lifted toward my face.
Then stopped.
“I can’t.”
My heart tightened.
“Because I look like her?”
His eyes closed.
“Partly.”
I nodded.
Painful.
But honest.
“Then don’t.”
He looked at me.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not.”
“I might.”
“Then take time.”
His eyes searched mine.
“You’re very different from her.”
“I know.”
“I’m starting to know too.”
That mattered.
More than a kiss would have.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Carlo.
COME TO ORELIO.
May you like
YOU NEED TO SEE WHAT WE FOUND BEHIND SOFIA’S PORTRAIT.
Apparently, the dead still had one final secret waiting.
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