Chapter 4 - THE SONG NOBODY ELSE KNEW
He studied her for another moment.
Then whispered:
"Miss June?"
She looked back.
"Yes?"
"Can you sing?"
Clara froze.
He smiled.
"My mommy used to sing this little song while she made pies."
Her breath caught.
"What song?"
Theo hesitated.
Then quietly hummed a simple melody.
Five soft notes.
A pause.
Then four more.
It was a lullaby Clara had made up when he was a baby.
A silly little tune about a wolf cub who was afraid of the dark.
Nobody else knew it.
Not the servants.
Not the bodyguards.
Not even Alessandro remembered all the notes.
Clara had sung it only when she and Theo were alone.
Her lips began to tremble.
Then, before she could stop herself, she hummed the next notes.
Perfectly.
Theo stopped.
His eyes widened.
"How did you know that part?"
Clara went pale.
She had made a terrible mistake.
"I..."
Theo leaned forward.
"My mommy made up that song."
Clara stared at him.
His little face was filled with confusion.
And hope.
A dangerous, heartbreaking kind of hope.
"Did you know my mommy?"
Clara tried to answer.
But her throat closed.
Theo reached across the table.
His small fingers touched hers.
"Please tell me."
She looked down at his hand.
The tiny crescent scar.
The same fingers she'd once held while teaching him to walk.
Her son.
Her baby.
Alive.
Sitting inches away.
And she couldn't even tell him who she was.
Finally, she whispered:
"Yes, sweetheart."
Theo's eyes filled.
"You knew her?"
Clara nodded.
"Very well."
He drew a shaky breath.
"Was she nice?"
Clara's face crumpled.
"She loved you more than anything in the world."
Theo's lower lip trembled.
"Really?"
"More than the moon. More than all the stars."
The boy began to cry.
"Then why did she leave me?"
Clara couldn't bear it.
She reached across the table and took his hands.
Her voice broke.
"Oh, baby... she never wanted to."
Outside, Alessandro had reached the bakery window.
He stopped when he saw Theo crying.
Instinctively, his hand moved toward the door.
Then he noticed something.
The woman sitting beside his son wasn't trying to stop the tears.
She wasn't telling him to be brave.
She wasn't distracting him with toys or sweets.
She was simply holding his hands and allowing him to cry.
And Theo was letting her.
Alessandro's chest tightened.
He had spent four years watching his son pull away from every nanny, therapist, and caregiver.
The boy hated being touched by strangers.
Yet now he sat with both hands wrapped around those of a woman he'd met less than half an hour earlier.
Something about her unsettled Alessandro.
He couldn't see her face clearly.
Her back was partly turned.
Dark hair brushed her shoulders.
A faded blue apron covered her simple dress.
There was nothing remarkable about her clothing.
But the way she leaned toward Theo...
The way she tilted her head while listening...
The way her thumb moved gently over the boy's knuckles...
Alessandro felt a strange, painful tightening in his chest.
He knew that gesture.
He'd seen Clara do it a thousand times.
Then Theo suddenly smiled through his tears.
And the woman leaned forward to kiss the top of his head.
Alessandro stopped breathing.
His hand remained frozen against the door.
For one impossible second, he felt as though he'd traveled backward in time.
To Sunday mornings.
To the kitchen at their old estate.
To Clara holding their son while sunlight filled the room.
He shook his head.
No.
Impossible.
Clara was dead.
He had seen the photographs from the fire.
Seen the damaged wedding ring recovered from the wreckage.
Signed the burial papers.
Stood beside an empty-feeling grave while his four-year-old son asked when Mommy was coming home.
He had spent four years learning to survive without her.
She couldn't be here.
Not in a little bakery.
Not sitting beside their son.
Not alive.
Alessandro forced himself to push the door open.
The bell rang.
Clara heard it.
A small, ordinary sound.
But when she looked toward the front entrance, her entire body went rigid.
A tall man in a black coat stood just inside the doorway.
Broad shoulders.
Dark hair touched with silver.
Sharp gray eyes.
The same strong jaw she used to kiss every morning.
Alessandro.
Her husband.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
For four years, she'd dreamed of seeing him again.
Imagined running into his arms.
Telling him everything.
Begging him to believe she hadn't abandoned their family.
But now that he was standing only a few feet away, she felt nothing but terror.
Because she didn't know who had betrayed them.
Didn't know whether someone close to Alessandro was still watching.
Didn't know whether speaking her real name would put Theo in danger.
She immediately lowered her head.
Theo turned.
"Daddy!"
His face lit up.
He jumped from his chair.
"Look! I ate two whole pies!"
Alessandro stared at him.
Then crouched, opening his arms.
Theo ran into them.
His father hugged him tightly.
"Two pies?"
Theo nodded proudly.
"Almost! I finished one and most of the second."
Alessandro smiled through sudden tears.
"That's wonderful, buddy."
"And they were really good!"
"I can see that."
Theo grabbed his father's hand.
"Come meet Miss June!"
Clara's blood turned cold.
She stood quickly.
"I... I should get back to the kitchen."
But Theo was already pulling Alessandro toward her.
"Daddy, she makes pies like Mommy!"
Alessandro's steps slowed.
Theo kept talking excitedly.
"And she knows Mommy's song!"
Clara froze.
Alessandro looked up.
"What?"
Theo nodded.
"The one about the little wolf!"
His father's face changed.
"What did you say?"
"The wolf song! She knows it!"
The bakery suddenly seemed very quiet.
Alessandro slowly turned toward the woman.
She stood behind the counter, gripping the edge so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.
Her dark hair partly covered her face.
He could see the faint scar near her forehead.
The tired posture.
The inexpensive clothes.
Nothing about her resembled the beautiful blonde woman he'd buried four years earlier.
And yet...
His heart was pounding.
"Miss Harper?"
His voice was low.
Clara flinched.
Alessandro noticed.
"Thank you for being kind to my son."
She kept her eyes lowered.
"He's a wonderful little boy."
Her voice was barely audible.
But Alessandro heard it.
And something inside him shattered.
That voice.
He knew that voice.
He had heard it whisper his name on their wedding night.
He had heard it laughing while flour covered the kitchen floor.
He had heard it singing to their newborn son at three in the morning.
He had heard it screaming his name during the fire.
For four years, he'd heard that voice only in dreams.
His fingers loosened around Theo's hand.
"Look at me."
Clara didn't move.
Alessandro swallowed.
"Please."
Slowly, she lifted her face.
Their eyes met.
And the most feared mafia boss in Chicago forgot how to breathe.
Her hair was different.
Her face was thinner.
A scar cut through the skin near her temple.
But those eyes...
Those extraordinary green eyes.
There was only one woman in the world who had ever looked at him that way.
May you like
Alessandro staggered backward.
"No..."
