And suddenly, the past was no longer past.
***
The paramedics arrived four minutes later.
Two men entered with a medical bag and a stretcher. They moved Elena aside and began examining Alessandro.
"How long has he been unconscious?"
"Less than five minutes," she answered.
"Did he fall?"
"He was sitting. Then he couldn't breathe properly."
"Did he eat anything unusual?"
"I don't know."
"Was he drinking?"
"Wine. Water."
One paramedic checked his pulse.
The other examined his pupils.
"Get the oxygen."
Elena stood back.
Her hands were shaking.
She noticed blood on her fingers.
It was not much, but it came from the small cut on Alessandro's neck, perhaps caused when his collar had caught against the edge of the table.
A paramedic looked up.
"Are you family?"
"No."
"Employee?"
"Yes."
"Stay here. We may need a statement."
The stretcher arrived.
They lifted Alessandro carefully.
As they moved him, his jacket slipped from the back of the booth.
A small photograph fell from its inner pocket.
It landed beside Elena's shoe.
She bent to pick it up.
The picture showed a woman standing outside an old Italian villa.
She wore a dark dress and held a little girl in her arms.
The girl had auburn hair.
Elena stopped breathing.
It was her mother.
And the child was her.
The photograph had been taken more than twenty years earlier.
On the back, in faded handwriting, were four words.
Sofia. Elena. Summer, 2004.
Beneath them was a second sentence.
A promise made to the dead.
Elena looked toward the stretcher.
Alessandro's face was turned slightly toward her.
His eyes were still closed.
She slipped the photograph into her apron before anyone noticed.
The paramedics wheeled him toward the entrance.
The restaurant doors opened.
Red and blue lights filled the marble lobby.
Outside, a black sedan screeched to a stop.
Marco Bellini stepped out.
He saw the stretcher.
His face changed.
"What happened?"
One paramedic answered.
"Possible poisoning or cardiac event. We're taking him to Saint Catherine's."
Marco turned toward the restaurant.
"Who was with him?"
The security guard pointed.
"She was."
Elena felt Marco's gaze.
He approached slowly.
"Your name?"
"Elena."
"Full name."
"Elena Moretti."
Marco stopped.
For a moment, he seemed unable to speak.
Then he looked toward the ambulance.
And something in his expression suggested that he understood far more than he was willing to explain.
"Come with me."
"I have to finish my shift."
"Your shift is over."
"I don't understand."
Marco leaned closer.
"Neither do I. But someone has just tried to kill the head of my family, and your name is connected to something that should have remained buried."
Elena felt her throat tighten.
"What are you talking about?"
Marco glanced toward the photograph in her apron.
His eyes narrowed.
"Where did you get that?"
Elena said nothing.
He looked at her again.
"That photograph belonged to Sofia Moretti."
The name struck her harder than the collapsing man had.
"You knew my mother?"
Marco's face became grave.
"Unfortunately, I knew her very well."
He opened the passenger door of the black sedan.
"Get in."
Elena looked toward the ambulance.
Then toward the restaurant.
Then at the man standing beside her.
She had spent eleven months trying to understand why her mother had died with so many unanswered questions.
Now the answers were waiting somewhere beyond the doors of Saint Catherine's Hospital.
And Marco Bellini appeared to be one of the few people who knew them.
Elena climbed into the car.
The doors closed.
The sedan pulled away from the Grand Bellagio.
Behind them, the restaurant returned to its golden silence.
But the city had already begun to change.
***
At Saint Catherine's Hospital, Alessandro De Luca was taken through the emergency entrance.
Marco followed the stretcher.
Elena remained in the corridor.
A security guard stood near the elevators. Another watched the main entrance. A third spoke quietly into his phone.
Nobody explained anything.
Nobody offered her a chair.
She looked down at her hands.
They were still trembling.
A nurse approached.
"Are you with the patient?"
Elena nodded.
"His security team is here."
"Are you family?"
"No."
The nurse looked at her uniform.
"Then I need you to wait outside the restricted area."
Before Elena could answer, Marco appeared.
"She's with me."
The nurse looked at him.
"Sir, only authorized personnel can enter."
"Then authorize her."
"I can't do that."
Marco's expression remained calm.
"Please don't make this difficult."
The nurse hesitated.
Then she stepped aside.
Elena followed Marco into the corridor.
He stopped near a set of double doors.
"Sit down."
"I'd rather stand."
"Suit yourself."
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Finally, Elena asked the question that had been troubling her.
"What did you mean when you said my name was connected to something buried?"
Marco looked at her.
"How much did your mother tell you about the De Lucas?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"She told me to stay away from your family."
Marco looked down.
"That sounds like Sofia."
"You knew her."
"Yes."
"How?"
He considered his answer.
Then he said, "Your mother worked for Alessandro's father."
Elena frowned.
"Doing what?"
"She was his personal secretary for several years."