Chapter 2 - The Black Case
I spent the next thirty seconds trying to convince myself the photograph meant nothing.
Babies looked alike.
Birthmarks repeated.
Coincidences happened.
Powerful families probably kept strange things inside locked vanity cases.
That last thought was ridiculous even while I was thinking it.
Roman held the photograph beneath the chandelier.
His face had become unreadable.
Serena was not unreadable.
She looked terrified.
“Give that to me.”
Roman didn’t move.
“Why?”
“It isn’t what you think.”
“I haven’t told you what I think.”
Serena glanced toward the closed ballroom doors.
Three hundred guests were watching.
I wanted to cover Sophie’s ears.
Instead, I picked her up.
She immediately wrapped her arms around my neck.
Roman noticed.
“Marco. Clear the room.”
A murmur erupted.
Serena snapped, “You just locked them in.”
“I changed my mind.”
Within minutes, security began guiding guests through the doors in controlled groups.
Phones were collected from a handful of people Roman’s attorneys wanted identified before they left.
I didn’t understand half of what was happening.
All I knew was that Sophie had gone quiet.
That scared me.
She was normally incapable of silence for longer than forty seconds.
I whispered, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Is the green lady mad?”
“No.”
Serena looked at us.
Yes.
She was.
Roman heard my answer.
He looked at Serena.
“If she is, she can explain why.”
Once the ballroom was nearly empty, Roman returned to the black case.
Marco removed the remaining items one at a time.
A stack of prenatal ultrasound printouts.
Insurance statements.
Laboratory letters.
A passport under another name.
Three burner phones.
A packet of prescriptions.
A sealed envelope from a fertility center outside Geneva.
And two sets of medical records.
Roman compared the dates.
“They don’t match.”
Marco leaned closer.
“What?”
“The ultrasounds.”
Roman placed two images side by side.
The patient numbers were different.
So were the gestational ages.
Serena crossed her arms.
“You’re not a doctor.”
“No.”
Roman picked up another sheet.
“But I can read a date.”
He handed everything to Marco.
“Have Dr. Feld examine these.”
Serena laughed.
It came out brittle.
“This is insane.”
Roman looked at the silicone belly on the table.
“You’re right.”
Her face tightened.
“It is.”
Sophie whispered into my ear.
“Can we go home?”
“Yes.”
I turned toward the exit.
Roman said, “Mara.”
I stopped.
“I’m taking my daughter home.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
He looked at Sophie.
Then at the photograph.
“I don’t know yet.”
“I do.”
My voice shook.
“She is my daughter.”
“I didn’t say otherwise.”
“You asked why she was in Serena’s safe.”
“Because she is.”
“That does not give you the right to—”
“I know.”
The answer came so quickly that I stopped.
Roman lowered his voice.
“I am not asking you to stay because I have a claim on her.”
Serena let out a tiny laugh.
Roman ignored her.
“I’m asking you to stay because someone in this house kept a photograph of your child inside a locked case full of fabricated medical records.”
I looked at the photo again.
He was right.
I hated that.
“What happens if I leave?”
“I send security with you.”
“No.”
“Then police.”
“No.”
“Mara.”
“I do not want DeLuca men outside my apartment.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Fair.”
That surprised me.
“I’ll call Detective Lena Ortiz.”
I knew the name.
Everyone in Westchester did.
She had investigated organized-crime cases for fifteen years and was rumored to be one of the few people Roman DeLuca respected because she had once arrested two of his cousins in the middle of a family wedding.
“Why would you call her?”
“Because whatever this is, I don’t intend to hide it.”
Serena stared at him.
“You’re going to bring police into this house?”
Roman turned toward her.
“If I find out you involved a child in whatever you were planning, I’ll bring the entire state into this house.”
No threat in his voice.
That made it worse.
Dr. Feld arrived twenty minutes later.
He was Roman’s personal physician, but he refused to touch the files before putting on gloves.
He studied the ultrasounds.
Then the bloodwork.
Then the medication list.
Finally he looked at Serena.
“You’re not pregnant.”
Her face went still.
Roman didn’t react.
Not visibly.
Dr. Feld continued.
“The hormone prescriptions could simulate some symptoms, but there’s no legitimate prenatal care represented here. These ultrasound images belong to at least three different patients.”
Marco asked, “And the clinic letters?”
“Forged or altered.”
Roman’s eyes never left Serena.
“How long?”
She said nothing.
“How long have you been pretending?”
Silence.
I shifted Sophie higher against me.
Serena finally whispered, “Eleven weeks.”
Roman looked toward the black case.
“The engagement announcement was twelve weeks ago.”
She pressed her lips together.
“You planned this.”
“I planned our future.”
“With a silicone stomach?”
“I knew what your family expected.”
Roman’s expression changed slightly.
Not anger.
Disgust.
“You thought I would marry you because you said you were pregnant.”
“You were going to marry me anyway.”
“I was considering it.”
Her face cracked.
“Considering?”
The word came out like an insult.
Roman turned back to the photograph.
“Who is this baby?”
Serena said nothing.
He placed the photograph on the table.
“Who is she?”
Serena’s eyes went toward Sophie.
My arms tightened automatically.
“No.”
Roman looked at me.
I heard my own voice.
“No matter what is in that case, you are not taking my daughter.”
“Mara—”
“She came to me when she was eleven days old.”
Roman went still.
Even Serena looked surprised.
I rarely told anyone that.
Sophie knew she was adopted in the simple way you explain adoption to a child.
She knew I had chosen her.
She did not know the details.
Neither did I.
“I was working nights at Mercy House then,” I said. “A transitional residence for women leaving abusive homes.”
Roman listened.
“One morning, a hospital carrier was left outside the staff entrance.”
Sophie rested her cheek on my shoulder.
“There was a note inside.”
Roman asked, “What did it say?”
“Only my name.”
His eyes sharpened.
“My full name. Mara Ellis.”
“And nothing else?”
“A sentence.”
“What sentence?”
I hadn’t repeated it in years.
Now the words returned perfectly.
She belongs with the woman who was never supposed to know.
The room went silent.
Roman turned slowly toward Serena.
She looked away.
I felt something inside me break loose.
“You know what that means.”
Serena’s silence answered.
I handed Sophie to one of the foundation’s older staff women, Mrs. Porter, who had finally awakened and looked horrified.
“Stay with her.”
“Mama?”
“I’m right here.”
I stepped toward Serena.
“You knew where Sophie came from.”
Serena’s eyes met mine.
“I knew more than you.”
“What?”
Roman’s voice cut through the room.
“Answer her.”
Serena smiled.
It was not a pleasant smile.
“You really want the truth?”
“Yes.”
She nodded toward the photograph.
“Then check the compartment beneath the lining.”
Marco lifted the velvet interior.
There was a false bottom.
Under it lay a thin red folder.
Roman opened it.
The first page carried the logo of a medical facility I recognized instantly.
Hawthorne Women’s Surgical Institute.
My knees weakened.
Roman noticed.
“You know it?”
I could barely speak.
“I was treated there.”
“When?”
“Five years ago.”
“For what?”
“An ovarian cyst.”
Serena laughed softly.
I looked at her.
“What?”
She leaned against the table.
“You never had a cyst, Mara.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Roman’s voice went cold.
“What was done to her?”
Serena looked directly at me.
May you like
Then she said the sentence that changed every memory I had of my own body.
“They harvested her eggs.”
