Chapter 6 — The Sister Sitting Across the Table
“Clara.”
The name hung in the underground corridor like a death sentence.
Chloe stared at Beatrice.
Then at Gabriel.
Then at Vincent.
Nobody corrected the older woman.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody said it was impossible.
That frightened Chloe more than anything.
She pointed toward the photograph with a trembling finger.
“You're saying she's Clara?”
Beatrice nodded.
Chloe shook her head.
“No.”
Beatrice raised her hands.
“Yes.”
“No.”
Chloe's voice cracked.
“Clara Moretti is not my sister.”
Beatrice looked at Gabriel.
Then she signed again.
“She changed her name.”
Gabriel's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
Beatrice pointed toward the ceiling.
Then toward the restaurant.
Then toward the photograph.
“Because she was hidden.”
Gabriel turned to Vincent.
“Did you know?”
Vincent stared at the photograph.
“No.”
“You knew about Emily.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Salvatore had another daughter.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn't know Clara was connected to Chloe?”
“No.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“Then why does my mother know?”
Vincent didn't answer.
Beatrice looked at him.
Her expression was sharp.
She signed.
“You were told.”
Vincent's face tightened.
“I was told there was another girl.”
Beatrice shook her head.
“Not told enough.”
Vincent looked away.
Chloe stared at them.
Her mind was moving too quickly.
Too many names.
Too many secrets.
Her mother.
Leo.
Emily.
Clara.
Salvatore.
Gabriel.
Vincent.
She felt as though someone had taken the life she knew and turned it upside down.
“My mother had another daughter.”
Beatrice nodded.
“Two daughters?”
Beatrice nodded again.
“Before Leo?”
Beatrice shook her head.
“Before me?”
A pause.
Then Beatrice nodded.
Chloe swallowed.
“So Clara is older than me.”
“Yes.”
“How much older?”
Beatrice looked toward Vincent.
He answered.
“Three years.”
Chloe closed her eyes.
Clara Moretti was thirty-four.
Chloe was thirty-one.
Three years.
Exactly.
She opened her eyes.
“What's her real name?”
Beatrice hesitated.
Then signed:
“Clara Bennett.”
Chloe felt her knees weaken.
She sat down.
Clara Bennett.
The name sounded impossible.
Yet somehow, it felt familiar.
Not as a person.
As a ghost.
A name from childhood.
A name she had once seen written inside an old photograph.
She searched her memory.
Nothing.
Then—
A flash.
A wooden drawer.
Her mother's bedroom.
An old photograph album.
Chloe at six.
Leo at three.
Her mother sitting behind them.
And beside her—
a little girl.
Chloe had always assumed it was a cousin.
She remembered asking her mother once.
“Who is she?”
Her mother had closed the album.
“She was nobody.”
Nobody.
Chloe's eyes filled with tears.
She whispered:
“She told me Clara was nobody.”
Beatrice nodded.
Chloe looked at Gabriel.
“She lied.”
Gabriel didn't answer.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“She lied.”
At 11:34 p.m., the city above them continued as if nothing had happened.
Cars moved through wet streets.
People walked beneath umbrellas.
Restaurants filled with laughter.
Music spilled from bars.
Somewhere, someone was celebrating a birthday.
Somewhere else, someone was falling in love.
And beneath an old restaurant, Chloe Bennett was discovering that the woman who had spent years manipulating the Costello family might also be her sister.
Her entire body felt numb.
“Why would Clara hate us?”
Vincent answered.
“I don't know if she hates you.”
“She tried to destroy evidence.”
“Yes.”
“She was connected to Leo.”
“Yes.”
“She worked for Gabriel's family.”
“Yes.”
“She moved money through shell companies.”
“Yes.”
“And she knew Salvatore was alive.”
Vincent nodded.
“That doesn't sound like someone who loves her family.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You don't know what she was promised.”
“What was she promised?”
“Protection.”
“From who?”
“Salvatore.”
Chloe's expression hardened.
“So she worked for him?”
Vincent nodded.
“For years.”
Gabriel looked at Vincent.
“Why?”
“Because he had something she wanted.”
“What?”
Vincent paused.
“Her mother.”
Chloe stopped.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Salvatore convinced Clara that your mother abandoned her.”
Chloe shook her head.
“She was a baby.”
“I know.”
“She couldn't have understood that.”
“She grew up believing it.”
“Who told her?”
“Salvatore.”
Chloe stared.
“Then he raised her?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Different families.”
Chloe's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because Salvatore didn't want anyone to know she existed.”
Gabriel looked at Beatrice.
“You knew.”
Beatrice nodded.
“How?”
She pointed toward Gabriel.
Then herself.
Then made a sign Chloe understood.
Marriage.
Gabriel's expression changed.
“My father.”
Beatrice nodded.
“Your father knew Clara was Salvatore's daughter.”
Gabriel's eyes narrowed.
“Then why did he allow her into the family foundation?”
Beatrice signed:
“He didn't.”
Gabriel stopped.
“What?”
Beatrice pointed toward the photograph.
Then toward Clara.
Then made a sign for lie.
Chloe translated.
“She says your father never hired Clara.”
Gabriel looked at Vincent.
Vincent's face went pale.
“Then who did?”
Beatrice pointed toward the photograph.
“Salvatore.”
Gabriel's jaw tightened.
“Salvatore placed her inside the foundation.”
“Yes.”
“To spy on my family.”
“Yes.”
“To steal money.”
“Yes.”
“To find the ledger.”
Beatrice nodded.
Gabriel looked at Chloe.
“And to find Leo.”
Chloe whispered:
“Why Leo?”
Beatrice's hands moved.
“Because Leo knew about Clara.”
Chloe froze.
“What did he know?”
Beatrice's expression changed.
“He knew she was your sister.”
Chloe stood.
“No.”
Beatrice nodded.
“He found her.”
“How?”
“He followed the money.”
Chloe stared.
Gabriel stepped closer.
“What money?”
Vincent answered.
“The payments to Bennett Logistics.”
Gabriel nodded slowly.
“Leo traced them.”
“Yes.”
“And discovered Clara.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
Vincent looked at Chloe.
“He contacted her.”
Chloe's heart pounded.
“Why?”
“To warn her.”
“About what?”
“Salvatore.”
Chloe shook her head.
“That doesn't make sense.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Leo believed Clara was being used.”
“She worked for him.”
“She was afraid of him.”
“So Leo tried to save her?”
“Yes.”
Chloe looked at the photograph.
Leo had always been like that.
Even when people didn't deserve kindness, he gave it.
Even when someone hurt him, he looked for the reason behind it.
She whispered:
“He would have tried to save her.”
Gabriel watched her.
“You believe him.”
“I knew my brother.”
Gabriel nodded.
“I believe you.”
It was a simple sentence.
But Chloe noticed it.
He wasn't saying he believed Vincent.
He wasn't saying he believed Beatrice.
He believed her.
Something about that mattered.
The phone rang.
Everyone turned.
Gabriel answered.
“Hello?”
No voice.
Just static.
Then a recording began.
Clara.
Her voice was calm.
Almost gentle.
“Gabriel, I know you're listening.”
Gabriel's eyes hardened.
“Where are you?”
The recording continued.
“You have thirty minutes.”
Chloe looked at the clock.
11:35.
Clara continued.
“Come to St. Mary's Church.”
Gabriel looked at Vincent.
The abandoned church.
The location from the message.
Clara's voice continued.
“Come alone.”
The recording paused.
Then:
“Bring Chloe.”
The phone went silent.
Chloe stared at Gabriel.
“She wants me there.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Gabriel didn't answer.
Vincent did.
“Because you're the one thing she can't predict.”
Chloe looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Clara knows Gabriel.”
He paused.
“She knows Vincent.”
He looked at Beatrice.
“She knows Beatrice.”
Then he looked at Chloe.
“But she doesn't know you.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Exactly.”
Chloe thought for a moment.
“She doesn't know how I think.”
“No.”
“She doesn't know what I'll do.”
“No.”
“She doesn't know what Leo told me.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“Maybe that's why she wants you.”
Chloe stared.
“What if she doesn't want me dead?”
Vincent said:
“She might want you to choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Her or Gabriel.”
Chloe's expression hardened.
“She's my sister.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“You don't know that yet.”
“I know.”
“But if it's true…”
Chloe looked toward the photograph.
“She is still my sister.”
Gabriel didn't argue.
Instead, he asked:
“Do you want to meet her?”
Chloe hesitated.
Every instinct told her no.
But another voice inside her whispered yes.
Not because she wanted revenge.
Because she needed answers.
She needed to know why her mother had lied.
Why Leo had died.
Why Clara had entered the Costello family.
Why Salvatore was alive.
Why Beatrice had known her brother.
And why a woman she had never known had been carrying the same blood.
“Yes,” Chloe said.
Gabriel nodded.
“Then we go.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“I'll come.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“No.”
Vincent stared at him.
“Gabriel—”
“You stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because if Clara sees you, she'll know we're expecting a trap.”
Vincent frowned.
“She already knows.”
“Exactly.”
Vincent looked toward Beatrice.
“She'll kill you.”
Gabriel's expression remained calm.
“She can try.”
Vincent shook his head.
“You don't understand.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“No.”
He looked directly into Vincent's eyes.
“I understand perfectly.”
Then Gabriel lowered his voice.
“You were the man sitting on my right.”
Vincent went still.
“My mother warned me about you.”
“I know.”
“You lied to me.”
“I know.”
“You knew my brother.”
“I know.”
“And you still want me to trust you?”
Vincent stared at him.
“No.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
Vincent continued:
“I want you to survive long enough to hate me properly.”
For a second, Gabriel almost smiled.
Then he said:
“Stay here.”
Vincent nodded.
Beatrice stepped toward Chloe.
She touched her face.
Her hands moved.
Chloe translated softly.
“Don't let her convince you that blood makes family.”
Chloe looked at her.
Beatrice continued.
“Family is who stays.”
Chloe's eyes filled with tears.
“Did you stay for Gabriel?”
Beatrice smiled.
“Yes.”
“Even when he wouldn't listen?”
Beatrice laughed silently.
“Yes.”
Chloe smiled through her tears.
“Sounds like him.”
Beatrice nodded.
Then she touched Chloe's hand.
She signed:
“Your brother wanted you to live.”
Chloe nodded.
“I know.”
“He wanted you to find the truth.”
“I will.”
Beatrice looked at Gabriel.
Then back at Chloe.
“Don't let Gabriel carry everything alone.”
Chloe glanced toward him.
Gabriel was standing near the exit, checking his weapon.
He looked like a man preparing for war.
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Just calculation.
Chloe understood something.
Gabriel had been raised to believe strength meant carrying everything himself.
His father had taught him.
The family had reinforced it.
His enemies depended on it.
But Beatrice had spent her entire life trying to teach him something else.
Sometimes strength meant allowing someone to stand beside you.
Chloe walked toward him.
Gabriel looked up.
“You ready?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
She frowned.
“Good?”
“People who say they're ready usually aren't.”
She almost smiled.
“You always talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like everything is a chess game.”
“It usually is.”
“That's exhausting.”
“So is waiting tables.”
She looked at him.
He looked back.
For the first time that night, there was something almost normal between them.
Then Chloe said:
“I have one condition.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“If Clara tells me something, you don't interrupt.”
He stared at her.
“That may be difficult.”
“Try.”
“Why?”
“Because I've spent my entire life having people decide what I should know.”
Gabriel was silent.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
“And if I tell you we leave, we leave.”
His expression hardened.
“That's not negotiable.”
“You promised.”
“I promised not to interrupt.”
“That wasn't the deal.”
He looked at her.
Then sighed.
“Fine.”
Chloe nodded.
“Good.”
Gabriel opened the door.
Then stopped.
“Stay close.”
Chloe looked at him.
“You said I wasn't supposed to be controlled.”
“I'm not controlling you.”
“Sounds like it.”
“I'm asking you not to die.”
She looked at him.
“That sounds reasonable.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
They stepped outside.
Rain had begun falling.
Cold.
Fine.
Almost invisible beneath the streetlights.
Gabriel's black sedan waited at the curb.
Chloe stopped beside it.
“I've never been in a car like this.”
Gabriel opened the passenger door.
“You're about to.”
She hesitated.
Then got in.
Gabriel walked around the front.
Before entering, he looked back at the restaurant.
Smoke still drifted into the night.
The fire had destroyed the hidden room.
But the truth had survived.
He got into the driver's seat.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
The city passed outside the windows.
Chloe watched the streets.
Then asked:
“Did your father really have another son?”
“Yes.”
“Vincent?”
“Yes.”
“And he knew?”
“Yes.”
“Did your father know about Clara?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“My father kept secrets.”
“Your family seems to specialize in them.”
Gabriel gave her a brief glance.
“You're not wrong.”
She looked down at the photograph.
“Why did my mother hide Clara?”
Gabriel thought.
“Maybe she didn't.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe Salvatore did.”
“But she knew.”
“Knowing something and being able to change it are different things.”
Chloe looked at him.
“You sound like you understand her.”
Gabriel's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“I understand what it means to be afraid of someone powerful.”
She was quiet.
Then:
“Are you afraid of Salvatore?”
Gabriel didn't answer immediately.
Finally, he said:
“I was.”
“And now?”
“Now I'm angry.”
“Which is worse?”
“For him.”
Chloe looked out the window.
“Leo wasn't afraid of him.”
Gabriel glanced at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because he kept investigating.”
She paused.
“That was Leo.”
Gabriel nodded.
“He sounds like someone I would have liked.”
“You would have.”
“What was he like?”
Chloe smiled faintly.
“Annoying.”
Gabriel smiled.
“Good.”
“He stole my fries.”
“Definitely annoying.”
“He sang badly.”
“Can't be trusted.”
Chloe laughed.
It was the first genuine laugh she had made since entering the underground room.
The sound faded quickly.
She looked at Gabriel.
“You know what's strange?”
“What?”
“For two years, I thought remembering him would destroy me.”
Gabriel waited.
“But tonight, talking about him makes me feel like he's still here.”
Gabriel looked at the road.
“Maybe that's what memories are.”
“What?”
“Someone refusing to leave.”
Chloe looked at him.
She hadn't expected that answer.
Neither had he.
The silence afterward was different.
Less hostile.
Less guarded.
Then Gabriel's phone vibrated.
He glanced down.
A new message.
From Clara.
I CAN SEE YOU.
Gabriel looked into the rearview mirror.
Nothing.
Just rain.
Chloe's phone vibrated too.
She checked it.
Another message.
A photograph.
She opened it.
Her breath caught.
It was a photograph of her mother.
Young.
Pregnant.
Standing beside a man.
Salvatore.
On the back was written:
SHE NEVER TOLD YOU WHO YOUR FATHER REALLY WAS.
Chloe stared.
“My father…”
Gabriel looked at her.
“What?”
She handed him the phone.
He looked at the photograph.
His expression changed.
The car slowed.
Chloe whispered:
“Gabriel…”
He stared at the man beside her mother.
“I know him.”
“Who?”
Gabriel's voice became very quiet.
“Your father.”
Chloe's heart stopped.
“But that's not possible.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“It is.”
He looked at her.
“Your father wasn't the man who raised you.”
Chloe stared at the photograph.
Then at Gabriel.
Then back at the man standing beside her pregnant mother.
A man she had spent her entire life calling Dad had apparently not been her biological father.
And the man beside her mother—
was Salvatore Costello.
The car continued toward St. Mary's Church.
Midnight was twenty minutes away.
But Chloe no longer knew what frightened her more.
May you like
The man waiting for them at the church—
or the truth about the man who had raised her.
