Chapter 6 - THE EMPTY APARTMENTElena had nothing left in the world except the child in her arms, and now even that felt like something people with money and guns could reach in and take.
Her apartment had been small, ugly, and often cold, but it had been hers. The crooked kitchen table. The thrift-store curtains. The drawer where she kept every bill she could not pay on time. The shoebox under her bed with ultrasound pictures, hospital bracelets from her own stay, and condolence cards from people who did not know what to say to a mother whose baby died before she ever held her.
Now Carmela Caruso’s people had walked through it.
Touched her things.
Placed a dead child’s blanket on her pillow like a promise.
Damian stared at the photograph for a long moment, then handed the phone to Marco.
“Find who took this.”
Marco nodded and stepped out.
Elena turned on Damian.
“You said this house was safe.”
“It is.”
“She got inside my apartment.”
“You weren’t there.”
“That’s supposed to comfort me?”
“No,” Damian said. “It is supposed to explain why you are still breathing.”
The room went silent.
Miriam gave him a look sharp enough to cut.
Damian exhaled through his nose and lowered his voice.
“I am not good at saying soft things when I am angry.”
“I noticed.”
“I am angry because my mother just threatened the woman whose child she stole while that child is standing three feet from me.”
Elena held Sofia closer.
Sofia had gone silent again, her eyes moving from Damian to Elena. A child should not have known how to watch adults for danger. Yet Sofia did.
Elena knelt and brushed the curls from her face.
“Baby, you’re safe.”
Sofia looked at Damian.
He crouched too, slower this time, leaving space.
“No one will take you,” he said.
Sofia studied him.
Then she reached one hand toward his cheek.
Damian froze.
Her small fingers touched the scar near his jaw, a pale line Elena had noticed earlier but not asked about.
“Daddy,” Sofia said.
The word was barely louder than breath.
But Damian heard it.
Everyone did.
His face changed in a way Elena would never forget.
The feared Damian Caruso, the man who could lower an entire restaurant’s voice by entering it, looked suddenly defenseless.
His mouth parted.
For two years, Sofia had never called him anything.
Now, on the day he learned she was not his by blood, she gave him the word he had waited for since the night she was placed in his arms.
Daddy.
Elena’s heart twisted so painfully she almost resented the child for loving him.
Then she hated herself for the thought.
Damian bowed his head.
Sofia patted his cheek once.
Then she turned back into Elena’s arms.
Miriam cleared her throat softly, but her own eyes shone.
“We need to prepare for court.”
Damian straightened.
“Court can wait.”
“No, it cannot,” Miriam said. “Your mother will file first. She will claim Elena is unstable. She will use grief, poverty, and employment records. She will say Elena created a fantasy after meeting Sofia. She will say you are being manipulated.”
“She would not dare.”
Miriam laughed once.
“Damian, she stole a baby from a hospital and handed it to you as a replacement for your dead child. Daring is not her weakness.”
Elena sank onto the sofa.
“She’ll win, won’t she?”
“No,” Miriam said. “But she may hurt you before she loses.”
Damian’s phone buzzed again.
Not Carmela.
Marco returned to the doorway.
“Boss. We found Luciana.”
Elena stood. “Where?”
“Small motel off the Belt Parkway. She checked in under her maiden name.”
Elena’s fingers tightened.
“Take me.”
Damian shook his head.
“No.”
Elena’s face hardened.
“You don’t get to decide whether I see my own mother.”
“You are not walking into a possible trap with Sofia.”
“Then I’ll go without Sofia.”
Sofia’s arms tightened instantly.
“Mama no.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Damian said nothing, but his expression said enough.
Miriam stepped in.
“I will stay with Sofia here. This house is secure. Damian’s men are outside, and I will call the attorney general’s office myself if anyone approaches.”
Elena looked at Sofia.
Leaving her felt like tearing skin from bone.
But Luciana had answers.
And maybe something worse.
Elena knelt.
“Mommy has to talk to Grandma.”
Sofia shook her head.
“No.”
The word was sharp, terrified.
Elena’s eyes filled.
Damian crouched beside them.
“I’ll go with her,” he told Sofia. “I’ll bring her back.”
Sofia looked at him uncertainly.
“Promise?” Elena whispered, surprised by the word leaving her mouth.
Damian looked at her.
“I promise.”
Sofia slowly released Elena’s blouse.
Elena felt every inch of separation.
At the door, she turned back three times.
Sofia sat on Miriam’s lap clutching the wooden rabbit Damian had given her. Her eyes never left Elena until the door closed.
The ride to the motel felt endless.
Elena sat beside Damian in the back seat, her hands folded so tightly her knuckles hurt.
“My mother loved me,” she said suddenly.
Damian did not answer.
“She was tired. Sad. Sometimes too hard. But she worked double shifts. She made soup when I was sick. She saved birthday cards from when I was little.”
Still, Damian said nothing.
Elena looked at him.
“You think she’s a monster.”
“I think good people can do monstrous things when someone puts a gun to what they love.”
Elena’s throat tightened.
“Is that what happened to your mother?”
Damian’s face closed.
“No. My mother usually holds the gun.”
The motel sat between a gas station and a closed diner. Neon buzzed above the office. Rain streaked down the windows.
Room 18.
Damian knocked once.
No answer.
He looked at Marco, who opened the door with a key from the terrified night clerk.
Elena stepped inside.
The room smelled of stale smoke and cheap soap.
Luciana Moretti sat on the floor beside the bed.
For a moment, Elena thought her mother was dead.
Then Luciana lifted her head.
She looked twenty years older than she had three days ago. Her hair was uncombed. Her eyes were swollen. In her lap sat a framed photograph of Elena as a newborn.
“Elena,” she whispered.
Elena stood frozen.
Luciana tried to stand, failed, and sobbed.
“She found you,” Luciana said. “My baby found her baby.”
Elena’s body trembled with rage.
“You knew.”
Luciana nodded, weeping.
“You buried an empty coffin.”
“I know.”
“You let me mourn her.”
“I know.”
“You watched me almost die from grief.”
Luciana pressed a hand to her mouth.
“I thought if you knew, Carmela would kill you.”
Elena’s voice broke.
“So you let me live dead.”
Luciana flinched.
Damian stepped forward.
“Where is Harold Vance?”
Luciana looked at him and fear returned.
“I don’t know.”
“Do not lie.”
“I’m not. He disappeared six months after Sofia was born.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
“That is when I started asking questions.”
Luciana nodded slowly.
“Then Carmela moved him.”
Elena wiped her tears angrily.
“And Papa?”
Luciana broke completely.
“They killed him.”
The words entered the room and stayed there.
“He tried to stop it,” Luciana sobbed. “He saw Vance carrying records to the private wing. He followed. He heard Bianca’s baby had died. He heard Carmela demand another child. He tried to call the police.”
Elena could barely stand.
Luciana reached under the bed and pulled out a manila envelope.
“Carlo left this with a friend before they took him. I only got it last week. That’s why I ran.”
Damian took the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
A storage room at St. Agnes.
Luciana younger, crying.
Dr. Vance.
Carmela Caruso.
And in Carmela’s arms, wrapped in a yellow duck blanket, was Elena’s newborn daughter.
May you like
On the back, in Carlo Moretti’s handwriting, were six words.
If I disappear, Carmela did it.
