Thirty-five
Chiara
My phone pings. Alyssa’s name flashes across the screen. My thumb hovers, and then stills. It’s an email. Finally, I click the message.
Chiara,
I heard something you need to take seriously. Ciro is no longer working off what I told them anymore. His security team used the photo and found a match. They’ve confirmed her identity under the new name.
I don’t know who they have inside, but they’re not guessing anymore. Massimo has a team on it, and they’re narrowing it down. They’re moving faster than they should be able to.
Your mom is not safe. There is nothing to stop them.
I didn’t understand what I set in motion before. I do now.
I miss you. I know I screwed up. I hope one day you can forgive me.
Alyssa
I read it again.
“Shit,” I say quietly.
I don’t move for a second. I sit there with it, my eyes moving back over the lines, checking for hesitation that isn’t there.
Can I trust her?
I pull my phone off the desk and swipe to Jim’s number, pressing call as I step into an unused conference room.
He picks up on the third ring.
“Good afternoon, Chiara.”
“You’ve found my mother. Where is she?”
There’s a beat. Not long, but enough. “Where are you right now?”
“I’m in a conference room on my floor,” I say, watching one of his men standing outside the elevator. “Why didn’t you tell me you found her?”
“Have you spoken to Ciro?” he says, and I can hear a door shut on his end.
“You confirmed her identity,” I say, shifting the phone tighter against my ear. “You had enough to verify, and you didn’t move.”
“I can’t have this conversation with you—"
“She’s my mother!”
“You need to talk to Ciro,” he says, slower now, controlled. “This does not move through me.”
“Where is she?” I demand.
“Please, talk to Ciro.”
I end the call and press the phone to my forehead, breath sharp, the scream trapped behind my teeth.
I storm out of the conference room, and I push the up button on the elevator and step in. Jim’s man attempts to join me, and I hold my hand up. “No.”
I hit the executive floor, and my toe tapping fills the elevator. When the door opens, Jasmine smiles as she sees me step out.
I give her a smile and point toward Ciro’s office, and she nods.
I push through his door without knocking, the handle hitting the stop hard enough to echo against the glass.
Ciro looks up from his desk, a file open under his hand, his pen still between his fingers as his eyes settle on me.
“You found her,” I say through clenched teeth, stopping in front of the desk and bracing my palm against the edge. “You confirmed her identity and where she is, and you didn’t tell me.”
His gaze sharpens, but he does not move.
“We can’t,” he says, his voice even as he holds my position with his. “We’ve been watching Massimo, and we believe he’s waiting for you to come racing down and get you both.”
I let out a short breath and shake my head once, my fingers tightening against the desk. “How long?” I lean forward just enough to close the space he left. “How long have you known?”
“We identified a potential match.” he says. “But we can’t be sure and given the circumstances we haven’t moved.”
“Do not soften it,” I say, tapping the file once, controlled. “You confirmed her.”
He holds my gaze, and then nods once. “We think so.”
He didn’t trust me with the only thing that matters.
“You could have told me,” I said.
“I made the decision to keep you out of a situation that is actively being watched,” he says, he walks around his desk to stand close to me. “That does not change because you found a way to ask the wrong person the right question.”
“My mother is not a situation,” I say, my hand flattening briefly against his chest before I pull it back. “She is not an asset you monitor until it suits you to act.”
“We don’t know it’s her for sure. And if it is her, we haven’t worked this hard to protect her to just go in blindly.”
I’m so angry I’m positive flames come out of my ears. I can’t take this. I need to go to her. I can confirm it’s her. I turn to leave, and he catches my wrist holding me there without tightening his grip.
“And you are not going to force this because you’re angry.”
“I am so beyond angry,” I say, pulling my hand free and stepping back just enough to break contact.
“If you go to her, it’s not safe for you or for her. Just slow down a minute.”
“You do not get to make that call alone.” I reach for the door handle and stop before I open it. “You don’t get to decide that risk is acceptable when it isn’t yours.”
“It is mine,” he says, closing the distance again, his hand braced against the door before I can pull it open. “Everything tied to this comes through me, whether you like it or not.”
I look at his hand on the door, and then back at him.
“You knew,” I say, my voice steady as I hold his gaze. “You knew she was alive, and you chose not to tell me.”
“I chose not to walk you into a trap,” he says, not raising his voice, not stepping back.
I reach for the handle, closing the last inch between us.
His hand lifts off the door before I make contact, the space opening without resistance.
I pull it open and walk past him.
“Chiara,” he says, following me out, his voice lower now, controlled but harder. “You can’t move on this.”
“I already am.” I walk away without slowing and right into a waiting elevator.
The elevator doors close in front of me, the panel lighting as I stop at my desk and grab my things.
I’m going to her.
Not tomorrow. Not with permission. Now.
I won’t go home. Whatever I need, I’ll replace when I land.
“Cara,” Heather says, pushing up from her chair as I cross the lobby. “Hold on a second.”
I don’t slow. “Not now.”
She steps into my path, her hand flattening against the glass before I can reach the door. “Where are you going?”
“Out.” I stop just short of her hand. “Move.”
“You don’t get to walk out mid-day,” she says, holding the line. “If you’re leaving, you clear it first.”
I meet her eyes. “I’m leaving regardless.”
“Then it’s job abandonment,” she says, her voice tightening.
I step closer, forcing her to give ground or hold it. “Do what you need to do,” I say. “You already take credit for my work.”
She falters, her hands dropping to her sides. “I’ve never—”
“Don’t lie to me. We’re done.” I step past her. I can’t be here another minute.
George stands and looks confused. “Is everything okay?”
“No, it really isn’t.” I leave him standing there and push the button on the elevator. Katie is downstairs waiting for me.
I don’t need a plan yet. I need a location.
Without that, Los Angeles is just noise.
“Can I drive you home?” she asks.
“No. Take me to the airport,” I say, sliding into the back seat.
“Okay. No problem.” She looks at me through the review mirror.
My mind spins. They found my mother, and they withheld that from me. I send a message to Jim.
Me: Send me her address. Now.
It shows delivered, but he doesn’t reply. No response. Fine. I’ll land first and force the rest.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Ciro: Where are you? That’s not how this works. You can’t do this alone.
Me: Send what you have, or stay out of it.
My phone buzzes against my hand, and I glance down at the screen.
Ciro: You don’t move without me.
I don’t answer. I lock the screen and set it facedown against my thigh.
Katie looks at me. “I’m sorry.”
“Chiara,” he says, sharper now over the car speaker, his tone tightening. “You can’t just go charging in. It’s not safe for you or for her. Please.”
“I’m exactly where you left her,” I say, sitting back and lifting my eyes to the mirror. “Unprotected.”
“That’s not what happened,” he says, and I can hear movement, like he’s already walking. “We haven’t verified it’s her. We’re trying to get to her without spooking her.”
“You didn’t tell me because you wanted control,” I say, cutting across him as Katie changes lanes. “All I have to do is see her and I’ll know. But no, you didn’t want to do that.”
“Stop,” he says. “You can’t just go to her. You direct Katie to return you to my house immediately. We’ll talk and figure out the safest plan to meet her.”
Katie glances back at me, her hand tightening on the wheel.
“He’s tracking us,” she says quietly, easing off the gas. “You want me to pull over or keep going.”
“Keep driving,” I say. “Do not change pace.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive,” he says, the edge back in his voice. “That requires you to follow instructions.”
“You already made that decision,” I say, my grip tightening on the phone. “You decided what happens without me.”
“And I’ll do it again,” he says, not softening or backing off. “Because you don’t have the information to make that call.”
“I’m leaving for Los Angeles, and I’m not coming back.”
Katie pulls into the airport and drops me at the United terminal, and I walk in. The line is long, but I don’t care. I wait my turn and then walk right up to an open station. “I need to be on the next flight to Los Angeles.”
“We have one leaving in forty minutes,” the agent says.
“I’ll take it.”