Chapter 5 - THE GHOST IN THE DRIVEWAY
The silence in the dining room was suffocating.
“Isabella died four years ago?” Nico repeated, staring at the notebook. The ink was clear. Isabella Rossi – Deceased. Account closed.
“No!” Matteo cried from my arms. He struggled against me, his small face red with tears. “My mommy isn't dead! She brought me here! She’s wearing her beige coat!”
I held the boy tighter, rubbing his back. “Shh, it’s okay, Matteo. We’ll find her.” But my eyes were fixed on Nico, whose entire world was fracturing in real-time.
“Victoria,” Nico said, stepping toward her. “Explain this.”
Victoria was trembling so violently she had to hold onto the table. “I… I don’t know! I swear to God, Nico. When I took over your father’s accounts, that’s what the ledger said. The payments to her stopped four years ago. The private investigator reported she died in a car accident in Ohio.”
“Then who drove this boy here?” Nico demanded. “Who is bleeding by the back gates?”
“I don’t know!” Victoria screamed. “I didn't do this!”
Ruth placed a gentle, wrinkled hand on Nico’s arm. “Nicholas. Breathe. The boy is terrified.”
Nico stopped. He looked at Matteo, his chest heaving as he forced his anger down. He knelt in front of us again, his massive frame suddenly looking vulnerable.
“Matteo,” Nico said softly. “The woman who brought you here… what did she look like?”
Matteo sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “She has brown hair. And she smells like vanilla. And… and she has a big scar right here.” The boy pointed to his left collarbone.
Nico froze.
I saw the recognition hit him like a physical blow. He looked up at me, his eyes wide.
“Hannah,” Nico whispered. “My sister, Elena. The one who ran away when we were teenagers. She had a scar on her collarbone from falling out of a tree.”
My breath caught. “Your sister?”
“Isabella didn't bring him here,” Nico said, standing up. “My sister did. Elena has been raising my son.”
The room erupted into whispers. The billionaire’s missing sister had been hiding his secret child for years.
“But why?” I asked. “Why would she hide him from you?”
“Because she thought I was like my father,” Nico said bitterly.
Suddenly, a heavy, sarcastic slow clap echoed from the back of the room.
The crowd parted as a tall man with graying hair and a jagged scar above his left eyebrow walked forward.
Marcus. The exiled enforcer.
“Very good, Nicholas,” Marcus sneered. “You’re finally putting the pieces together. But you’re a little too late.”
Nico stepped in front of Matteo and me, shielding us. “Marcus. You have five seconds to tell me where my sister is before I kill you in front of eighty witnesses.”
Marcus laughed. He pulled a small, silver key from his pocket and tossed it onto the table next to the check.
“She’s safe. For now,” Marcus said. “But she’s not the one you should be worried about.”
He pointed a finger directly at me.
“You should be asking your little maid why she’s really here.”
I flinched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you, Hannah?” Marcus walked closer, ignoring Nico’s threatening stance. “Mary Sullivan’s daughter. Working in the house of the man who ruined her life.”
“My mother was a waitress,” I said, my voice trembling. “She died of cancer.”
“She was a waitress,” Marcus agreed. “But before that, she was the nurse who delivered Matteo.”
The room spun.
“Your mother didn't just take in Leo fifteen years ago, Hannah,” Marcus said with a cruel smile. “She was paid to fake Matteo’s death at birth. She helped Elena steal him.”
I shook my head, tears pricking my eyes. “No. My mother was a good person. She wouldn't do that.”
“She did it for a hundred thousand dollars,” Marcus said, pointing at the notebook. “Which Victoria so graciously documented.”
Nico looked at me. The trust that had been building between us all night suddenly shattered.
“Hannah?” Nico asked, his voice thick with betrayal. “Did you know?”
“No!” I cried, holding Matteo tighter. “I swear, Mr. DeLuca! I just needed a job! I didn't know anything about this!”
Marcus chuckled. “Maybe she didn't know. But Ruth certainly did.”
Everyone turned to the elderly woman in the faded dress.
Ruth wasn't crying anymore. She stood perfectly still, her hands clasped in front of her.
“Is it true, Ruth?” Nico asked, his voice breaking.
Ruth looked at Nico with immense sadness. She reached into her broken handbag one last time. She pulled out a faded, Polaroid photograph and held it out to him.
“I didn't want to ruin your memory of her, Nicholas,” Ruth said softly.
Nico took the photo. I leaned over to see it.
It was a picture of a young Ruth, holding a newborn baby. Standing next to her, smiling brightly, was a woman I recognized instantly.
May you like
My mother.
“I didn't just buy you a suit, Nicholas,” Ruth said, her voice steady but filled with years of secrets. “I’m Mary Sullivan’s mother. I’m Hannah’s grandmother. And we didn't steal your son. We saved him from your father.”
