Chapter 4 - THE BROTHER WHO NEVER STOPPED SEARCHING
Alessandro Ricci was thirty-seven years old.
He owned restaurants, hotels, shipping companies, and enough legitimate property to make financial magazines interested in him.
He also controlled a criminal organization inherited from his father.
I knew that much before I agreed to meet him.
He didn't hide it.
When I asked directly, he answered directly.
“Yes.”
That frightened me more than any rumor.
We met in a public café in Manhattan.
No private rooms.
No bodyguards at the table.
I had insisted.
Alessandro arrived wearing a charcoal coat and carrying a folder.
He sat opposite me.
“Thank you for coming.”
I folded my arms.
“Tell me about Isabella.”
His expression softened.
“She was five years older than me.”
He opened the folder.
Inside were photographs.
Isabella laughing beside a fountain.
Isabella holding a violin.
Isabella standing on a balcony overlooking the Amalfi Coast.
“She loved music,” Alessandro said.
I swallowed.
“So do I.”
He smiled sadly.
“She used to play violin at night when our father couldn't sleep.”
He turned another page.
There was a photograph of Isabella with a young man.
Tall.
Blond.
Smiling.
“Who is he?”
“Daniel Bellandi.”
My breath caught.
“My grandfather's name was Bellandi.”
Alessandro nodded.
“Daniel was an American journalist working in Italy.”
He looked at me.
“Isabella fell in love with him.”
I stared.
“What happened?”
Alessandro's expression darkened.
“My father didn't approve.”
“Because Daniel was American?”
“Because Daniel was investigating corruption involving our family's shipping business.”
I felt cold.
Alessandro continued.
“Isabella discovered she was pregnant. She wanted to leave Italy with Daniel.”
He paused.
“Then Daniel disappeared.”
My throat tightened.
“And Isabella?”
“She vanished six months later.”
I looked down.
“My grandmother raised me in Ravello.”
Alessandro nodded.
“Giulia was Isabella's housekeeper.”
I stared.
“Housekeeper?”
“Yes. She worked for our family for twenty years.”
The room seemed to shrink.
My grandmother hadn't simply known Isabella.
She had worked for her.
Alessandro leaned forward.
“Sophia, I spent most of my life believing my sister was murdered.”
I swallowed.
“And now?”
May you like
He looked at the photograph.
“Now I think she may have survived long enough to save you.”
