"He left the restaurant before you collapsed. His phone has been switched off."
Alessandro looked toward the ceiling.
"Who found me?"
"A waitress."
"Name?"
"Elena Moretti."
The room became quiet.
Alessandro turned his head.
"Say that again."
"Elena Moretti."
He looked at Marco.
"Where is she?"
"Outside."
"Bring her in."
Marco hesitated.
"There's something else."
Alessandro's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
"Her mother was Sofia."
For the first time since waking, Alessandro looked genuinely shaken.
"Sofia?"
Marco nodded.
"She has the photograph."
Alessandro stared at him.
"Is she alive?"
"Elena is."
"That's not what I asked."
Marco looked away.
"No. Sofia died last year."
Alessandro closed his eyes.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he spoke.
"Bring her here."
***
Elena entered the room reluctantly.
Alessandro was sitting upright, wearing a hospital gown beneath a dark blanket. An IV line ran into his left arm. His face was pale, but his eyes were alert.
They were the same eyes she remembered from the old photograph.
She stopped near the door.
Alessandro studied her.
"Elena."
"Mr. De Luca."
"Your mother."
She swallowed.
"What about her?"
"She was a remarkable woman."
Elena's expression hardened.
"Then why did she spend the rest of her life afraid of your family?"
Alessandro did not answer immediately.
Marco moved toward the window.
Elena continued.
"She told me never to trust you."
Alessandro looked down at his hands.
"She had good reason."
"Did you hurt her?"
"No."
"Did your father?"
A long silence followed.
Then Alessandro said, "My father made choices that destroyed many lives. Your mother's was one of them."
Elena stepped closer.
"What happened?"
Alessandro looked at Marco.
"Tell her."
Marco remained silent.
"Please," Elena said.
Alessandro drew a slow breath.
"When I was nine, I discovered that my father was using a charity foundation to move money between companies. Sofia worked in his office. She found the documents and realized that several people were being threatened because of what they knew."
"Why didn't she go to the police?"
"Because the police were already involved."
Elena said nothing.
"She tried to take me away from the estate. My father found out. He accused her of stealing money and threatened to have her arrested."
"Was she guilty?"
"No."
"Then why didn't you help her?"
Alessandro looked at her.
"Because I was nine years old."
The answer silenced her.
"I remember the night she left," he continued. "She came into my room. She told me to be brave. She kissed my forehead and promised she would come back."
His voice became quieter.
"She never did."
Elena looked at the photograph in her hand.
"She wanted to."
Alessandro raised his eyes.
"What?"
"My mother wanted to come back. She told me once that she had left someone behind. Someone she couldn't protect."
Alessandro stared at her.
"She was talking about me."
"I think so."
He looked away.
For a moment, the powerful man seemed smaller.
Not weak.
Just human.
"Why didn't she tell you about me?" he asked.
"Perhaps she thought I would come looking."
"And would you have?"
Elena considered the question.
"I don't know."
Alessandro nodded.
"Fair enough."
Then he looked toward Marco.
"Find Vincent."
Marco nodded.
"And find out who authorized the shipment from Pier Forty-One."
"I'll handle it."
Alessandro turned back to Elena.
"Your mother left you something?"
Elena hesitated.
"Yes."
"Documents?"
"Maybe."
"Where?"
"At home."
Alessandro looked at her.
"Don't go back alone."
Elena almost laughed.
"You don't get to give me orders."
Marco looked surprised.
Alessandro, however, did something unexpected.
He smiled.
Only slightly.
"Your mother used to say the same thing."
Elena felt the anger inside her soften, but only a little.
"I am not my mother."
"No," Alessandro replied. "You are not."
He looked toward the window.
"But someone has already noticed your name. That means your life has changed whether you wanted it to or not."
***
At 2:15 a.m., Elena returned to Queens in a black sedan.
Marco insisted on accompanying her.
She protested twice.
He ignored both attempts.
When they reached her apartment building, Marco checked the street before allowing her to leave the vehicle.
"Stay close."
"I know how to walk up my own stairs."
"Tonight, you don't."
She looked at him.
"Do you always speak to people like they're employees?"
"Only when they're being difficult."
Despite herself, Elena almost smiled.
They entered the building.
The hallway smelled of old paint and detergent. A television played somewhere behind a closed door.
Elena unlocked her apartment.
The first thing she noticed was the silence.
The second was the open drawer.
She had left it closed.
She stepped inside.
Marco followed.
"Stay here."
He examined the kitchen, then the bedroom.
A minute later, he returned.
"Someone has been here."
Elena felt cold.
"Did they take anything?"
Marco examined the wardrobe.
"Not much."
He opened the drawer beneath the bed.
The wooden jewelry box was gone.
Elena rushed forward.
"No."
She searched beneath the clothes.
Nothing.
Her mother's scarf had been moved.
The old photographs were scattered across the floor.
Someone had searched the apartment.
Someone knew.
Marco took out his phone.
"Lock the building down."
Elena looked at him.
"They took my mother's box."