“Stop.”
Luca fell silent.
I could barely breathe.
“Who told you about my childhood?”
“Nobody.”
“Then how do you know?”
His eyes filled.
“Because Elena told me.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He reached into his jacket and removed a small silver necklace.
A delicate chain.
A pendant shaped like a crescent moon.
The moment I saw it, my chest tightened.
I knew that necklace.
I didn’t know how.
But I knew it.
Luca placed it on the table.
“She wore this on our wedding day.”
I stared at it.
A memory flashed.
A man’s hands behind my neck.
Warm breath against my hair.
A voice saying:
There. Now you’ll always have a little piece of the moon.
I covered my mouth.
Luca leaned forward.
“What is it?”
I looked at him.
“Did you ever say something about the moon?”
His face drained of color.
“What?”
“Something about giving her a piece of the moon.”
He went completely still.
Then he whispered:
“Those were my exact words.”
I began crying.
Not because I remembered him.
But because I didn’t.
And somewhere deep inside me, something was trying desperately to wake up.
At two in the morning, I called my mother.
She answered after four rings.
“Emma?”
“Mom.”
Her voice changed.
“What’s wrong?”
I stared at the necklace.
“Have I ever been married?”
Silence.
Then a strange sound came through the phone.
As though she had dropped something.
“Mom?”
“Where are you?”
“At work.”
“Emma, listen to me.”
Her voice was shaking.
“Get out of that house.”
I froze.
“Why?”
“Don’t ask questions.”
“Mom—”
“Promise me you’ll leave.”
I stood.
“How do you know where I work?”
Another silence.
Then she whispered:
“Because I know who Luca Moretti is.”
My blood turned cold.
“Mom?”
She began crying.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
Her next words nearly stopped my heart.
“Because five years ago, I promised someone you would never remember him.”
The call ended.
I stood motionless.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
It showed me lying in a hospital bed.
My head was bandaged.
A medical monitor stood beside me.
The date in the corner was five years earlier.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
YOUR MOTHER DIDN’T SAVE YOU. SHE HELPED THEM ERASE YOU.
I had spent twenty-six years believing my mother was the one person who would never lie to me.
Her name was Margaret Bennett.
She was fifty-nine, widowed, and suffering from a heart condition that had kept her in and out of hospitals for nearly two years.
She was the reason I worked double shifts.
The reason I skipped meals.
The reason I accepted insults from wealthy people who treated waitresses like furniture.
Everything I did was for her.
And now she had admitted that someone had made her promise I would never remember Luca Moretti.
I stared at my phone.
The photograph of the hospital bed seemed to move.
I could almost smell antiseptic.
Hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor.
Feel something cold against my arm.
Then a voice surfaced in my mind.
Don’t let him find her.
I dropped the phone.
“Emma?”
Luca stood in the study doorway.
I looked up.
“My mother knows you.”
He stopped.
“What?”
“She knows who you are.”
I showed him the message.
He read it.
His expression hardened.
“Where is she?”
“St. Catherine’s Medical Center.”
“Chicago?”
I nodded.
He took out his phone.
“Marco. I need a car.”
I grabbed his arm.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“You’re not sending your men after my mother.”
His expression softened.
“Emma, I wasn’t going to hurt her.”
“Then what were you going to do?”
“Make sure she’s safe.”
I stared at him.
“Why should I trust you?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said something I hadn’t expected.
“You shouldn’t trust anyone simply because they ask you to.”
He stepped back.
“Come with me. Ask her yourself. I’ll stay outside if that’s what you want.”
I studied him.
For the first time, Luca Moretti didn’t look like the terrifying man everyone whispered about.
He looked tired.
Almost defeated.
And something about that frightened me more than his anger.
We reached the hospital shortly before three.
Margaret Bennett was sitting upright in bed.
When she saw me, she began crying.
Then she saw Luca.
Her face went white.
“No.”
I stopped beside her bed.
“Mom.”
She shook her head.
“No, no, no.”
Luca remained near the doorway.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
She stared at him.
“You weren’t supposed to find her.”
My chest tightened.
“Mom, what does that mean?”
Margaret covered her face.
I pulled a chair beside the bed.
“Please.”
She looked at me.
I had never seen her so frightened.
“Sweetheart, I did what I thought was right.”
