"I don't know."
"Who raised her?"
"A woman named Margaret Bennett."
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
"Margaret Bennett?"
Thomas nodded slowly.
"She was Elena's closest friend. She took the child and disappeared."
Adrian felt the room tilt.
"Bennett."
He repeated the name quietly.
Then he remembered the waitress.
Clara Bennett.
The red-haired young woman who had given Thomas a meal.
He immediately reached for his phone.
"Find everything you can about Clara Bennett."
Thomas grabbed his wrist.
"Wait."
Adrian looked at him.
"Why?"
Thomas's eyes filled with tears.
"Because I don't know if she knows who she is."
...
Clara lived in a small apartment above a closed laundromat.
The building was old, the staircase smelled of damp wood, and the heating system had not worked properly in months.
When she returned home that night, her younger brother Daniel was sitting on the couch.
He was twenty-two, thin, and still walked with a slight limp following his accident.
He looked up.
"You're late."
Clara placed her bag on the table.
"I had a strange day."
Daniel smiled.
"Did you finally become a movie star?"
"Something like that."
She went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
There was half a bottle of milk, two eggs, and a container of leftover rice.
She sighed.
"Did you eat?"
Daniel shook his head.
"I was waiting for you."
"Daniel."
"What?"
"You know you don't have to wait."
He smiled.
"I like eating with you."
Clara looked at him.
For a moment, all the tension of the day disappeared.
She made two plates of fried rice.
Then she sat beside him.
Daniel watched her carefully.
"Something happened."
Clara hesitated.
"An old man came into the restaurant today."
"And?"
"I gave him food."
Daniel shrugged.
"That's normal for you."
"Then a man came looking for him. A very strange man."
"Strange how?"
"Expensive suit. Security guards. The kind of person who makes everyone uncomfortable just by walking into a room."
Daniel laughed.
"Sounds like a businessman."
"His name was Adrian Moretti."
Daniel stopped chewing.
The fork slipped slightly from his fingers.
Clara noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You know that name?"
Daniel looked down.
"No."
But Clara could tell he was lying.
She reached across the table.
"Daniel, what's wrong?"
He shook his head.
"Nothing. I'm just tired."
Clara did not push him.
But later that night, after she had fallen asleep, Daniel quietly entered the bedroom.
He opened the bottom drawer of her dresser.
Inside was a small wooden box.
He removed a photograph.
It showed Clara as a little girl, standing beside a woman with red hair and a gentle smile.
On the back was written:
ELENA AND HER LITTLE STAR.
Daniel stared at it.
Then he opened his phone.
There was an unsent message to an unknown number.
THE MORETTIS FOUND HER.
He read the message twice.
Then deleted it.
...
The next morning, Adrian arrived at his father's mansion.
The estate stood on a hill overlooking the city, surrounded by high stone walls and security cameras.
Alessandro Moretti was sitting in his study.
At sixty-three, he still possessed the imposing presence of a man accustomed to commanding entire rooms.
His dark hair had turned silver at the temples, and his body was weaker after the heart attack, but his eyes remained sharp.
Adrian entered without knocking.
"We need to talk."
Alessandro looked up.
"Good morning to you too."
"Thomas Carter is alive."
The old man's expression changed.
His fingers tightened around the armrest.
"Where?"
"Hospital."
"Who found him?"
"Victor."
Alessandro looked away.
Adrian noticed.
"You knew."
His father said nothing.
"You knew he was alive."
Alessandro slowly placed his glass on the desk.
"Adrian, there are things you don't understand."
"Then explain them."
"Not now."
"Eleven years, Father. You've had eleven years."
Alessandro stood with difficulty.
"Be careful how you speak to me."
Adrian laughed without humor.
"That's what you always say when you don't have an answer."
The room became silent.
Then Adrian placed the old photograph on the desk.
Alessandro looked at it.
His face lost all color.
"Where did you get that?"
"From Thomas."
Alessandro slowly sat down.
"Where is he?"
"At the hospital."
"Did he tell you anything?"
"He told me about Elena."
Alessandro closed his eyes.
Adrian stepped closer.
"Who was she?"
His father did not answer.
"Was she really your sister?"
Alessandro finally looked up.
"Yes."
"And was she murdered?"
A long silence followed.
Then Alessandro whispered:
"Yes."
Adrian felt as though the ground had disappeared beneath him.
"Who did it?"
His father stared at the photograph.
"I did not order her death."
"But you knew."
Alessandro's eyes filled with tears.
"I knew she was in danger. I knew Victor was following her. I believed he was trying to scare her into leaving the country."
"And you did nothing?"
"I thought I could control him."
Adrian shook his head.
"That's what you always say."
Alessandro looked up.
"I loved my sister."
"Then why did you let her die?"
The old man covered his face.
For the first time in Adrian's life, he saw his father cry.
But the sight did not make him feel better.
It made him angrier.
Because somewhere in the city, a woman had grown up without her mother.
A woman who had spent her life struggling to survive.
A woman who had given a meal to a stranger while having barely enough money to feed herself.
And that woman might be the last surviving member of a family that had spent eleven years searching for her.
...
Adrian returned to the hospital that afternoon.
Thomas was awake.
He was staring out of the window.
"Did you speak to your father?" he asked.
Adrian nodded.
"He admitted he knew Elena was in danger."
Thomas looked disappointed.
"That's more than I expected."
"Where is her daughter?"
Thomas took a long breath.
"Margaret Bennett raised her."
Adrian sat down.
"Clara."
Thomas looked at him.
"You found her?"
"She works at Rosie's Diner."
Thomas smiled weakly.