Chapter 20 - The Mother Who Came Back From the Dead
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I had faced men with guns.
I'd watched powerful businessmen lose everything in a single afternoon.
I'd survived betrayals that would have destroyed other people.
But nothing prepared me for the moment Elena Vega walked into Charlotte Mercer's office.
She was thirty-four.
Thin.
Dark-haired.
Beautiful in a tired, unpolished way.
She wore a simple gray coat and carried an old leather handbag.
When she saw me, she stopped in the doorway.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Michael DeLuca?”
I stood.
“Yes.”
She pressed one hand against her mouth.
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
Then she whispered:
“Is Renee okay?”
I felt my throat tighten.
“Yes.”
Elena began crying.
I didn't move toward her.
I understood this woman had lost far more than I could imagine.
But I also knew I had questions that couldn't be ignored.
We sat across from each other.
Charlotte and Elena's attorney remained in the room.
Elena placed her handbag beside her chair.
“I've seen pictures of her,” she said quietly.
I nodded.
“From where?”
“Some public photographs. A school fundraising notice. An old charity newsletter.”
She wiped her face.
“I kept them.”
I looked at her.
“Why didn't you contact me?”
Her expression crumpled.
“I tried.”
I sat forward.
“When?”
“The first year after the fire.”
I felt cold.
“What happened?”
“Every letter I sent through the old contacts disappeared. I was warned that any attempt to approach the DeLuca family would put Lucas in danger.”
My jaw tightened.
“Who warned you?”
She looked down.
“A man who worked for Victor March.”
I closed my eyes.
Elena continued.
“I was injured in the fire. Victor arranged medical treatment under another name. At first, I believed he was helping me.”
“When did you realize he wasn't?”
“When he told me my children had already been placed and that I should forget my old life.”
I stared at her.
“What did you do?”
“I found a lawyer. Then I tried to obtain the records. But the first attorney I trusted died before the case could move forward.”
She swallowed.
“After that, I didn't know whom to believe.”
I looked toward Charlotte.
She nodded.
“Her account is consistent with several documents we've received. The remaining details are being investigated.”
I turned back toward Elena.
“Did you agree to Renee's adoption?”
Tears filled her eyes again.
“No.”
The room fell silent.
Elena continued.
“But when I learned who had adopted her, I was relieved she was with someone who could protect her.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“Why?”
“Because I remembered hearing about you before the fire.”
I frowned.
“What did you hear?”
“That you were different from your father.”
I almost laughed.
My reputation was hardly one of innocence.
Yet somehow, a woman who knew more about my family's finances than most of our employees believed her daughter would be safe with me.
Elena opened her handbag.
She removed a worn photograph.
It showed Renee as a toddler.
Beside her stood a little boy holding a wooden airplane.
Lucas.
He looked about four years old in the photograph.
Elena traced his face with one finger.
“He used to sleep with that airplane.”
I stared at the picture.
“Where is he?”
She began shaking.
“That is why I wanted to see you.”
I leaned forward.
“Tell me.”
Elena looked toward her attorney.
He nodded gently.
She took a deep breath.
“After I escaped Victor's control, I spent years trying to locate Lucas. The placement records were incomplete, and several names had been changed.”
I waited.
“Then, last month, someone sent me a photograph.”
She reached into her handbag again.
This time, she removed a newer image.
A boy stood outside a rural house.
He was taller.
Older.
But he had the same brown eyes as Renee.
My breath caught.
“That's him?”
Elena nodded.
“I believe so.”
I examined the background.
A white farmhouse.
A wooden fence.
Bare trees.
Then I noticed something painted on the mailbox.
A small family crest.
The DeLuca crest.
I looked up sharply.
“Where was this taken?”
Elena swallowed.
“On property once controlled by your father.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“Antonio's old country house?”
She nodded.
I stared at the photograph.
That property had been abandoned for years, at least according to my father.
I remembered visiting it as a boy.
The long gravel driveway.
The barn.
The trees surrounding the pond.
Then I noticed a shadow beside the house.
A man standing near the doorway.
The photograph was slightly blurred.
But I recognized his profile.
Victor March.
I looked at Elena.
“How old is this photograph?”
“Three weeks.”
My entire body went still.
Three weeks.
Lucas had been alive, photographed only days before Christmas.
I looked toward Charlotte.
“We need to give this to Detective Hart.”
Charlotte nodded.
“Immediately.”
Elena gripped my hand.
“Michael, please. I don't know where they've taken him.”
I looked into her eyes.
“I'll do everything I lawfully can to help find him.”
She began crying again.
Then whispered:
“And Renee?”
I took a slow breath.
“She knows she had another mother before me. She doesn't know you're alive yet.”
Elena nodded.
“I understand.”
“I want to handle this carefully. With her therapist. With people who understand what she's been through.”
“Of course.”
I studied her.
“I won't make promises about how quickly things can happen.”
She wiped her eyes.
“I don't expect you to.”
Then she said something I'll never forget.
“I didn't come here to take away her father.”
My chest tightened.
“I know.”
“I came because my children deserve the truth.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I took out my phone and showed her a photograph from Christmas morning.
Renee stood beside our small tree wearing her red velvet dress.
Button rested beneath one arm.
She was smiling.
Elena covered her mouth.
“Oh, my baby.”
Tears streamed down her face.
“She looks happy.”
I nodded.
“She is.”
Elena touched the screen gently.
“Thank you for loving her.”
I couldn't answer immediately.
Then I whispered:
“She made it easy.”
For the first time that morning, Elena smiled.
A real smile.
But it disappeared when her eyes returned to the photograph of Lucas.
“Michael, there's something you need to understand.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Victor didn't take Lucas because of the money alone.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then why?”
Elena lowered her voice.
“Because Lucas saw something the night of the fire.”
I leaned forward.
“What did he see?”
She shook her head.
“He was terrified. He kept repeating that someone with a silver ring had locked the warehouse door.”
My heart pounded.
A silver ring.
Antonio wore a heavy silver signet ring for most of my childhood.
It bore the DeLuca crest.
But so had several men who worked for him.
I looked at Elena.
“Did Lucas identify the person?”
“No.”
She hesitated.
“But he told me it was someone he knew.”
I sat back.
Before I could ask another question, my phone rang.
Gabriel.
I answered immediately.
“What's wrong?”
His voice sounded tense.
“Boss, we have someone at the front gate.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
“A boy.”
My heart stopped.
“What boy?”
“He looks about ten. He's alone, and he's carrying a wooden airplane.”
I looked at Elena.
She had gone completely pale.
“Gabriel,” I said carefully, “don't frighten him. Keep him safe and call the appropriate authorities. I'm on my way.”
“Boss, there's something else.”
“What?”
“He asked for you by name.”
I gripped the phone.
“Did he say who he was?”
“Yes.”
My pulse hammered.
“What did he say?”
Gabriel paused.
Then answered:
“He said his name is Lucas Vega.”
Elena began sobbing.
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped across the floor.
“Is he hurt?”
“He's standing and talking. I haven't noticed an injury. Rosa is with him.”
“Good. Don't let anyone pressure him.”
I turned toward Elena.
“Lucas may be at my house.”
She covered her face.
“Oh, thank God.”
Then Gabriel spoke again.
“Boss, the boy says he has something to tell you.”
I looked toward the window.
“What?”
“He says it's about the warehouse fire.”
My heart tightened.
“Did he tell Rosa what happened?”
Gabriel's voice dropped.
“Not exactly.”
“Then what did he say?”
A long silence followed.
Then Gabriel answered:
“He said your father has been lying about who started the fire.”
I closed my eyes.
“Antonio?”
“Yes.”
“Did Lucas say who did it?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Boss, he said he remembers the person who locked the door.”
I felt the entire room go cold.
“Who?”
Gabriel took a breath.
“He said it was a woman.”
I froze.
Elena stared at me.
Then Gabriel continued.
“The boy says he can recognize her. He saw her again recently.”
My mind raced.
Carmen.
Paula.
Someone else from my father's household.
I looked at the old photograph.
Then at Elena.
“Gabriel, ask Lucas if he remembers the woman's name.”
I heard muffled voices.
A long pause.
Then Gabriel returned.
“He says he does.”
My heartbeat thundered.
“What is it?”
But before Gabriel could answer, I heard a small voice through the phone.
A boy's voice.
Frightened.
Breathless.
“Mr. DeLuca?”
I swallowed.
“Yes, Lucas?”
“Please don't tell your grandma I'm here.”
I felt a chill.
“Rosa is there to help you, Lucas. You're safe right now.”
The boy's breathing shook.
Then he whispered:
“She told me Renee was dead.”
Elena made a broken sound beside me.
I closed my eyes.
Lucas continued.
“And she said if I ever told anyone what I saw, the same thing would happen to me.”
I gripped the phone tighter.
“Who told you that?”
The boy began crying.
I waited.
Then he whispered:
“The lady from the fire.”
My stomach tightened.
“What's her name, Lucas?”
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he spoke three words that made every secret my family had buried seem suddenly connected.
“Ask Aunt Paula.”
The call ended.
I stood in silence.
My sister.
Paula.
The woman who had apologized for Christmas.
The woman who had given me the photograph of Lucas.
The woman who claimed she'd only recently discovered his existence.
I looked toward Elena.
She stared back at me.
And suddenly, I remembered something I'd dismissed during the investigation.
Paula had said she'd found Lucas's photograph in Carmen's desk.
But she had never explained why she knew which drawer to search.
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph taken that morning.
Renee standing beside Rosa in our kitchen.
Below it was one sentence.
MICHAEL, YOU FOUND ONE CHILD. DON'T MAKE ME REMIND YOU WHAT HAPPENED TO THE OTHER.
I stared at the screen.
For the first time in my life, I understood that being the most feared man in Chicago meant nothing if I couldn't identify the danger inside my own family.
Then a second message arrived.
IF YOU WANT THE WHOLE TRUTH ABOUT CHRISTMAS, COME BACK TO THE MANSION. ALONE.
And underneath it was a photograph of my mother sitting in her private study.
Across from her sat my sister Paula.
Between them was a sealed black folder.
On the cover were two names.
RENEE VEGA.
LUCAS VEGA.
But beneath those names was a third.
A name I recognized immediately.
A name I had never expected to see connected to Elena's missing children.
I enlarged the image.
My hands began trembling.
May you like
Because the third name belonged to someone I had trusted with my daughter's life.
And that person was inside my home right now.
