Chapter 8-The Mother Who Was Never Dead
I didn't cry when Victoria died.
That surprised me.
I thought I would.
She had been the woman who raised me.
The woman who packed my lunches.
The woman who sat beside me when I had nightmares.
The woman who taught me how to survive after losing everything.
But standing there in that abandoned church, surrounded by shattered glass and the smell of gunpowder…
all I felt was confusion.
Because grief requires certainty.
And I had none left.
For fifteen years, I mourned my parents.
For fifteen years, I believed my family was gone.
For fifteen years, I built my entire identity around surviving a tragedy.
Now, in less than twenty-four hours, everything I knew had been destroyed.
My sister was alive.
My aunt was not the hero I believed.
My enemy might have never been my enemy.
And my mother…
the woman whose death had haunted me every night of my life…
might still be breathing somewhere.
I looked down at Victoria's body.
Her final words echoed in my mind.
"Find her."
Not protect her.
Not forgive her.
Find her.
Like she knew there was something my mother needed to tell me.
Like she knew the truth was bigger than all of us.
“Elena.”
Dante's voice brought me back.
I looked at him.
There was blood on his hands.
Not his.
Victoria's.
And for some reason, that image hurt.
Because Dante Moretti was supposed to be a monster.
A man who never cared.
A man who never hesitated.
But I had watched him hold a dying woman with more humanity than most people showed the living.
“Are you hurt?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He studied my face.
“You're lying.”
The words should have annoyed me.
Instead, they almost made me laugh.
“Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“Because everyone sees something you don't.”
“What?”
“That you're breaking.”
I looked away.
“I can't.”
Dante's expression changed.
“Can't what?”
“Break.”
The words came out quietly.
“If I break, everything falls apart.”
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he spoke.
“Maybe everything already fell apart.”
I looked at him.
“And maybe this is the part where you rebuild.”
I hated how much those words affected me.
Because deep down…
I wanted to believe him.
The drive back to Chicago was silent.
Nobody spoke.
Not because there was nothing to say.
Because there was too much.
Isabella sat across from me in the SUV.
She looked out the window.
I could tell she was hiding something.
“You knew.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
“You knew my mother might be alive.”
Silence.
That was enough.
My chest tightened.
“How long?”
Isabella looked away.
“Elena…”
“How long?”
Her eyes lowered.
“Years.”
The answer felt like another betrayal.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
“I found documents.”
“What documents?”
“Records from the night our family was attacked.”
My hands curled into fists.
“And you never told me?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
I laughed.
A painful sound.
“Everyone says that.”
Isabella looked hurt.
“Because it's true.”
“No.”
My voice became sharper.
“Everyone protected me by lying to me.”
Silence.
“You all decided I couldn't handle the truth.”
I looked at her.
“But I was the one who had to live with the lies.”
Isabella didn't argue.
Because she knew I was right.
The car continued through the city.
Outside, Chicago looked normal.
People walking.
Cars moving.
Lights shining.
Nobody knew that underneath those streets were decades of secrets and blood.
Nobody knew that two families thought they were enemies while someone else controlled them both.
Then Dante's phone rang.
He answered immediately.
“What?”
A pause.
His expression changed.
“Are you sure?”
Another pause.
“Send everything to me.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
He looked at me.
“We found Nolan.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“He escaped before the attack on the mansion.”
Of course he did.
Nolan always escaped.
He always found a way.
“What did he do?”
Dante looked at the file on his phone.
“He contacted someone.”
“Who?”
His eyes met mine.
And I already knew the answer would hurt.
“Your mother.”
The world stopped.
“What?”
Dante turned the phone toward me.
A photograph appeared.
A security image.
Two people standing outside a private airport.
One was Nolan.
The other…
was a woman.
Older.
Elegant.
Dark hair.
But I knew her.
I knew her before I could even accept it.
Because some parts of your heart recognize people before your mind does.
My hand covered my mouth.
“No.”
Isabella looked at the picture.
Her face went pale.
“That's impossible.”
Dante looked at us.
“Who is she?”
My eyes filled with tears.
Because after fifteen years of believing she was gone…
I finally saw her.
My mother.
Lucia De Luca.
Alive.
And standing beside the man who destroyed my life.
Nolan.
The next morning, Dante took me to a private location.
A place where he kept information.
Not weapons.
Not money.
Information.
Because he believed the most dangerous thing in the world wasn't a gun.
It was the truth.
Hundreds of files filled the room.
My family's history.
The Morettis.
The Vescaris.
The people who had shaped Chicago's underground world.
Dante placed one file in front of me.
“Your mother disappeared after the attack.”
I opened it.
“She wasn't found because someone wanted her hidden.”
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“The same person who hid you.”
I froze.
“My aunt?”
He nodded.
“But not because Victoria betrayed you.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Dante opened another document.
A medical record.
A birth certificate.
A name.
My hands shook.
“What is this?”
Dante looked serious.
“Something nobody wanted you to discover.”
I read the paper.
And my entire body went cold.
Because the name written there wasn't mine.
It wasn't Elena De Luca.
It wasn't Rossi.
It was another name.
A name connected to the oldest criminal family in Chicago.
A name that explained why everyone wanted me dead.
I looked at Dante.
“What am I?”
His expression softened.
Because he knew how impossible the answer was.
“You're not just the last De Luca.”
A pause.
“You're the last heir of the family that built Chicago before any of us existed.”
I stared at him.
“What family?”
Dante looked at the file.
Then at me.
“The Belladonna family.”
The name meant nothing to me.
But the fear on Dante's face told me everything.
Because for the first time…
Dante Moretti looked afraid.
Not for me.
For what my existence meant.
“What does that mean?”
He slowly closed the file.
“It means your family wasn't destroyed because of a war.”
A pause.
“It was destroyed because someone was afraid of what you would become.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“And what would I become?”
Dante looked directly into my eyes.
“The most powerful woman in Chicago.”
Before I could answer, every screen in the room suddenly turned on.
A message appeared.
One sentence.
From an unknown sender.
DANTE MORETTI, YOU HAVE ONE WEEK.
Then another line appeared.
RETURN ELENA DE LUCA… OR WE REVEAL WHAT SHE REALLY IS.
The room went silent.
Dante stared at the message.
Isabella looked terrified.
And I realized something.
They weren't trying to kill me anymore.
They were afraid of me.
But I had no idea why.
May you like
Because the truth I spent my entire life searching for…
might be the very thing that destroys everyone around me.
