Chapter 7: The Man Wearing Michael’s Face
For three seconds, nobody moved.
The man standing in the doorway looked exactly like Michael Moretti. The same dark hair. The same scar cutting through his right eyebrow. The same expression that made grown men reconsider their decisions before speaking.
But Luca was fighting against his restraints, and Elena had her gun pointed directly at the stranger's chest.
“Don't come any closer,” she warned.
The man raised both hands.
“Anna, thank God. You need to listen to me.””
I couldn't stop staring at Catherine's wedding ring dangling between his fingers.
It was an old gold band with a tiny sapphire embedded inside. Catherine had worn it until the night she died. Afterward, I had kept it in a velvet box beside my bed.
I had never told anyone about the engraving inside.
Little sparrow. Always find your way home.
The stranger turned the ring so I could see the engraving.
My knees nearly buckled.
“Where did you get that?””
“From your apartment.””
“You broke into my apartment?””
“I didn't have a choice.””
Elena's finger tightened around the trigger.
“Victor, remove the mask.””
The man looked at her.
Then he smiled.
It was Michael's smile, but something about it was wrong. Michael's expressions were usually controlled, economical. This smile lingered too long, stretching across his face like a costume that didn't fit.
“You always were difficult, Elena.””
He reached behind his ear.
A thin seam appeared along his jaw.
My stomach turned.
The face came away in one smooth motion.
Beneath it was a stranger with pale skin, gray eyes, and a narrow scar running from his temple to his cheekbone.
Luca stopped struggling.
“Jesus Christ.””
The stranger folded the silicone mask and slipped it into his coat.
“My name is Adrian Vale,” he said.
“And if you want Michael alive, you need to come with me.””
Elena kept her gun raised.
“How did you know about the pendant?””
“Because I helped Victor hide it.””
She fired.
The bullet struck the doorframe beside Adrian's head.
He dropped to one knee, swearing, while Luca shouted my name.
Elena stepped forward.
“Tell me why I shouldn't put the next bullet through your heart.””
Adrian slowly raised his hands again.
“Because Victor has Michael in a warehouse on the river, and at midnight he's going to kill him in front of the people who built his empire.””
“And you expect us to believe you?””
“No,” Adrian said.
“I expect you to look at the photograph in my pocket.””
He reached into his coat.
“Slowly,” Elena ordered.
He withdrew a photograph and placed it on the floor.
I picked it up.
It showed Michael tied to a chair in a room with concrete walls. Behind him stood Victor Moretti.
On the opposite side of the room was a woman I had never seen before.
She wore a white dress and held a newborn baby.
The woman's face had been scratched out.
But the baby's wrist bore a small birthmark shaped like a crescent moon.
I looked down at my own wrist.
The same mark.
“What is this?”” I whispered.
Adrian's expression softened.
“The photograph was taken the night you were born.””
Elena lowered her gun slightly.
“Who took it?””
“I did.””
“You worked for Victor?””
“For years.””
“Then why are you helping us now?””
Adrian looked at the photograph in my hand.
“Because I was the one who carried you out of Saint Agnes before the fire started.””
The room went silent.
I couldn't breathe.
“You carried me out?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because Victor ordered me to bring you to him. But when I saw what he intended to do, I gave you to Catherine instead.””
Elena's face twisted with fury.
“You told me my daughter was dead.””
“I told Victor that.””
“You let me mourn her for twenty-eight years!””
Adrian didn't defend himself.
“I thought the lie would keep her safe.””
Elena crossed the room and struck him across the face with the butt of her gun.
He fell against the wall.
“You don't get to decide what a mother can survive.””
“I know.””
“No, you don't.””
Her voice cracked.
“You don't know what it feels like to hear your child's name spoken at a funeral when you know there is no body in the coffin.””
Adrian wiped blood from his lip.
“I know what it feels like to watch the child you saved grow up believing nobody wanted her.””
I looked at him.
“You knew me?””
“I watched from a distance. Catherine knew someone was keeping an eye on you, but she never knew it was me.””
“Why didn't you come forward?””
“Because Victor would have killed you. And after Catherine died, he started searching for the archive again.””
Luca finally managed to pull one hand free from his restraint.
“Enough stories. How do we get Michael out?””
Adrian glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Victor is holding a private gathering at the old Moretti warehouse. The same men who helped him steal children will be there. He plans to announce that Michael is dead and that Anna has agreed to take her rightful place as heir.””
I stared at him.
“I haven't agreed to anything.””
“Victor doesn't need your agreement. He needs your face, the pendant, and the archive code.””
“Why my face?””
“Because the Bellini family has a succession clause in its original agreement. If Victor's biological heir claims the archive, the trust transfers control of the hidden accounts to that heir.””
Luca's expression hardened.
“He wants to use Anna to take control of the money.””
“And erase every record connecting him to Saint Agnes,” Adrian said.
Elena turned toward me.
“Then we destroy the archive.””
“No,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
I held the photograph tightly.
“We expose it. Every name. Every payment.
Every family that bought a child. Every person who helped cover up the fire.””
Adrian shook his head.
“Some of those names belong to people who control the police, the courts, and the federal investigations into organized crime.””
“Good.””
“Anna, they will come after you.””
“They've been coming after me since I was born.””
I placed the photograph on the table.
“And I'm finished running.””
For the first time, Luca smiled.
“That sounds like my sister.””
Adrian checked his watch.
“We have less than three hours.””
Elena lowered her gun.
“Then we need weapons, a vehicle, and a way into the warehouse.””
Adrian nodded.
“I have all three.””
He led us through the clinic's rear exit to a black van parked beneath a broken streetlight.
Inside were two duffel bags, several phones, and a laptop.
Luca took the laptop immediately.
“What's this?””
“The warehouse security system,” Adrian said.
“Victor uses a private network. I've already copied the access codes.””
Luca began typing.
“Then why did you need us?””
Adrian looked at me.
“Because the network requires a biometric confirmation from Victor's biological heir.””
He pointed to the pendant.
“The archive is inside the warehouse's underground vault. Only Anna can open it.””
I climbed into the van.
Elena sat beside me, her hands trembling in her lap.
After a moment, she reached toward my wrist.
I pulled away.
She lowered her hand.
“I don't expect you to forgive me,” she whispered.
“Good.””
“I only want you to know that every decision I made was meant to keep you alive.””
I stared out the window.
“Then why does every decision you made feel like another person stole something from me?””
She had no answer.
The van pulled into traffic.
Ten minutes later, Adrian's phone rang.
He listened, then went pale.
“What is it?”” Luca asked.
Adrian turned the screen toward us.
A live security feed showed Michael sitting in the warehouse, his hands tied behind his back.
Victor stood behind him.
But there was someone else in the room.
A woman in a black dress.
She stepped into the light, and I recognized her immediately from the photograph.
The woman whose face had been scratched out.
The woman holding the newborn.
She looked directly into the camera.
Then she spoke.
“Anna, darling. If you're watching this, it's time you met your real mother.””
Elena made a strangled sound.
“That isn't possible.””
The woman smiled.
Then she leaned down and kissed Michael on the forehead.
“My name is Isabella Moretti,” she said.
“And I've been dead for twenty-eight years.””
The screen went black.
Adrian stared at Elena.
Elena stared at me.
May you like
And Luca whispered the question none of us dared to ask.
“If Isabella is alive, then whose body did they bury?””
