Chapter 3 - The Secret Beneath Fourth Street
Papa finally told me the truth.
Not all at once.
Truth apparently came from him in pieces.
My mother had known someone was following her during the final months of her life. She had hidden documents throughout the shop because she believed nobody would search a poor tailor’s business.
But Papa insisted on one thing.
“I didn't hurt your mother.”
“Then why did she tell me not to trust you?”
“She didn't.”
I showed him the letter.
He stared at it.
Then shook his head.
“That isn't Elena’s handwriting.”
My blood turned cold.
Someone had planted the letter.
But why?
Noah returned before sunrise.
When I showed him everything, he made a decision.
“You're not staying here.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You don't decide where I stay.”
“No. But someone knows you're searching.”
“How?”
He pointed toward the box.
“Because that letter was meant to turn you against the only person who knows what happened twenty-three years ago.”
Papa.
Noah was right.
Someone had anticipated this moment.
That meant someone involved in my mother’s death might still be watching us.
We searched the remaining photographs.
One showed my mother standing inside the shop beside Noah’s father.
Another showed Papa.
But the final photograph was different.
My mother stood beside three men.
Noah recognized two.
The third had been scratched out.
On the back were coordinates and one sentence:
Where the Morettis began, the truth remains.
Noah knew exactly where it meant.
An abandoned textile warehouse in Brooklyn.
His grandfather’s first legitimate business.
That afternoon we went there together.
Noah insisted Paulie accompany us.
Inside the abandoned office, I discovered an old tailor’s mannequin.
Strange.
Why would a textile warehouse contain a tailor’s mannequin?
Then I noticed the stitching.
Someone had sewn the torso closed by hand.
I cut it open.
Something fell onto the floor.
A leather ledger.
Noah stared at it.
We had found what my mother died protecting.
But when he opened it, his face changed.
The ledger didn't show money being stolen from the Morettis.
It showed money being secretly transferred by Noah’s father.
Millions of dollars.
To one name.
Elena Rossi.
My mother.
I looked at Noah.
“Why was your father giving my mother millions?”
He didn't answer.
Paulie did.
“Boss.”
Noah looked toward him.
Paulie had found another photograph inside the mannequin.
It showed Noah’s father holding a newborn baby.
Me.
On the back was a date.
My birthday.
And beneath it, four words:
My daughter. My responsibility.
Noah and I stared at each other.
Suddenly the attraction between us became something horrifying.
If the photograph meant what it appeared to mean...
May you like
Noah might be my brother.
[End of Chapter 3]
