Chapter 6 - Cassandra’s First Secret
Julian did not speak for several seconds after Margaret said Cassandra’s name.
The hospital corridor continued around him as if reality had not just shifted again. A cart rattled past. Somewhere an elevator chimed. A nurse answered a phone. Lily stood close enough for the sleeve of her cream dress to brush his hand.
“Cassandra is Lily’s mother?” Julian asked.
Margaret shook her head.
“No. I said Cassandra is Elena’s daughter.”
“That was not my question.”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
“Cassandra gave birth to a girl at nineteen.”
Julian looked at Lily.
The child’s face had gone pale.
Nora had always told her that her father left before she could remember him and that Nora was her mother. Nothing in that story included Cassandra.
Lily whispered, “Mom is my mom.”
Margaret moved toward her.
“Yes.”
“Then why are you talking like she isn’t?”
Margaret stopped.
Julian crouched near Lily.
“Nobody gets to take your mother away by telling you something about blood.”
The girl swallowed.
“So Miss Cassandra can’t be my mom.”
“She can be part of your history without replacing Nora.”
Lily looked at Margaret.
“Is that what you mean?”
Margaret nodded slowly.
“Nora raised you. Nora chose you every day.”
The child’s shoulders eased a fraction.
Julian rose.
“Start at the beginning.”
Margaret sat in the waiting area.
Twenty-seven years earlier, seventeen-year-old Elena Vale had a daughter in secret. Her father, a wealthy patron of the ballet, considered the pregnancy a disgrace and arranged a private placement through the DeLuca charitable network.
The baby was Cassandra.
Elena was told the adoption was legal and closed.
It was not.
The girl went to Elena’s older sister, Celeste, under a falsified record that made Celeste appear to be the birth mother.
“Why?” Julian asked.
“Because Elena’s father wanted the child inside the family but outside the scandal.”
Julian laughed bitterly. “People will commit crimes to avoid gossip.”
“Yes.”
Years later, Elena learned Cassandra was her daughter.
She began trying to expose the falsified records.
That was how she discovered the wider adoption network.
That was how she met Sofia Vale.
That was how she became dangerous to Julian’s father.
“And Cassandra?” Julian asked.
“She grew up believing Celeste was her mother and Elena was her aunt.”
“Does she know now?”
“She learned at eighteen.”
One year later, Cassandra became pregnant.
The father was a young dancer named Owen Shaw.
He died in a motorcycle accident before Lily was born.
Cassandra’s career had just begun. Celeste pressured her to surrender the baby privately, saying scandal would destroy everything.
The same family pattern repeated.
Except this time Margaret intervened.
She placed the baby with Nora.
Julian stared.
“Why Nora?”
“Because Nora had just escaped Caleb Ross.”
The name from her background file.
Nora had suffered a miscarriage during that marriage and could no longer safely become pregnant. Margaret knew she wanted a child. Cassandra wanted Lily hidden from Celeste and from the DeLuca network until the old records could be exposed.
“Nora agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Legal adoption?”
“No.”
Julian closed his eyes.
Another false identity.
Another child used to solve adult fear.
Margaret said, “We intended to legalize everything later.”
“Later is the favorite word of cowards.”
She flinched.
Good.
“Did Cassandra see Lily?”
“From a distance.”
“Did Nora know who Cassandra was?”
“No.”
Julian stared.
“You gave Nora a baby and lied about who the mother was.”
“I told her the mother was in danger.”
“You made her part of a conspiracy without consent.”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell Cassandra?”
“That Lily was safe.”
“Was she?”
Margaret’s face tightened.
“Until Caleb found Nora again.”
Julian remembered the bruises.
“What happened?”
Margaret looked at Lily.
Julian understood.
“Not here.”
Lily crossed her arms.
“I already know.”
Nora had tried to hide the worst of Caleb’s return, but children know the shape of fear even when adults give it polite names.
Margaret kept her words careful.
“Caleb found them two years ago. He demanded money. When Nora refused, he intimidated them. He shouted, broke things, grabbed Lily, and once locked her in a dark storage room for hours to frighten Nora into cooperating.”
Julian’s jaw clenched.
Lily stared at the floor.
“He said bad kids disappear.”
Margaret began crying.
Julian did not ask for more details.
He did not need them.
Cruelty did not become more true because an adult described every second of it.
“Where is Caleb now?”
“No one knows.”
Julian’s phone rang.
Adrian.
The doctor’s voice came immediately.
“You know about Cassandra.”
“Yes.”
“Then you understand why she had to leave.”
“No.”
“She recognized the poison.”
Julian stopped.
“What?”
“Not the chemical. The method.”
Adrian explained that Cassandra had received threats for months. Someone had mailed dried monkshood flowers to her dressing room. She told no one because the notes referenced Lily.
“What did they say?”
“Dance at the DeLuca gala and the child lives.”
Julian looked at Lily.
“She was forced to attend?”
“Yes.”
“And the music?”
“They told her the orchestra would play Elena’s variation. Lily had to dance it.”
“Why?”
“To make you start asking questions.”
The poisoner wanted Julian curious.
Wanted the entire old network reopened.
This was not only an assassination attempt.
It was a message.
“Where are you?” Julian asked.
“Safe.”
“That word has become meaningless.”
Adrian exhaled.
“Then earn a better one. Meet us without weapons.”
“Where?”
“Not yet.”
“What about Nora?”
“She’s with Cassandra.”
“Did you take her willingly?”
“Ask her.”
Nora came on the line.
“Julian.”
He nearly shouted.
Instead he said, “Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Did Adrian force you?”
“No.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because he showed me Lily’s real birth record.”
Julian looked at Margaret.
“And?”
“There’s a signature on it.”
“Whose?”
“Thomas Bell.”
Of course.
Nora continued, “But there’s another signature. Witness.”
“Who?”
A pause.
“Your mother.”
Julian froze.
His mother, Isabella DeLuca, had died nine years earlier.
She had despised the family business.
Or claimed to.
“Why would my mother witness Lily’s placement?”
“I don’t know.”
Margaret went white.
She knew.
Julian turned.
“What?”
Margaret whispered, “Isabella knew everything.”
“Everything?”
“She helped me move children out of the network.”
Julian felt dizzy.
His mother had spent years telling him the DeLuca sins began and ended with Vittorio.
Apparently she had been inside them too.
Adrian returned to the call.
“We found Isabella’s journals.”
“Where?”
“Thomas had them.”
“What do they say?”
“They say someone was using the illegal adoption network after Vittorio tried to shut it down.”
“Who?”
“Your uncle.”
Julian’s blood chilled.
“Gabriel?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel DeLuca had been missing for twelve years after allegedly fleeing the country over tax charges.
Julian had been told he died in Brazil.
Another convenient death.
Adrian said, “Gabriel is alive.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
Julian looked through the hospital windows.
The city spread beneath him.
“And he wants Lily?”
“No.”
Adrian’s voice changed.
“He wants Cassandra.”
“Why?”
“Because Cassandra knows where Elena is.”
Julian’s pulse jumped.
“Elena is alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Cassandra refuses to tell me.”
“Put her on.”
A pause.
Then Cassandra’s weak voice.
“Julian.”
His throat closed.
“You’re awake.”
“Apparently I’m difficult to kill.”
Despite everything, he almost laughed.
“Where is Elena?”
Silence.
“Cassandra.”
“She made me promise.”
“Thirteen years.”
“I know.”
“She let me bury her.”
“She was trying to keep you alive.”
“That excuse is getting old.”
“I know.”
Cassandra began crying.
Then she said, “She’s in Chicago.”
Julian closed his eyes.
“How close?”
“Close enough to watch Lily dance.”
He stopped.
“At the gala?”
“Yes.”
Julian remembered faces.
Hundreds.
Staff.
Musicians.
Guests.
One woman in a black dress near the staircase had turned away when Lily began Elena’s variation.
He had thought she was crying.
“Did Elena see the poisoning?”
“Yes.”
“Then where is she now?”
Cassandra whispered, “She followed the person who switched the glasses.”
Julian’s pulse hammered.
“Who?”
Cassandra answered.
“Your uncle Gabriel.”
Then the call cut out.
Marco rushed toward Julian from the far end of the hallway.
“We found Thomas’s sedan.”
“Where?”
“Near the river.”
“Thomas?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Marco held out a photograph.
A man lay unconscious beside the abandoned car.
Alive.
Older.
Silver hair.
Julian recognized him immediately despite twelve years.
Gabriel DeLuca.
On his chest, someone had pinned a note.
May you like
It read:
HE IS NOT THE ONE WHO HURT THE CHILDREN.
