Chapter 1 - THE SONG NOBODY WAS SUPPOSED TO REMEMBER
“Starting with her real name.”
Alejandro Duca's words hung in the candlelit air.
Sophia Brooks stood beside Table 4, her hands cold, her heart beating so violently she could feel it beneath her uniform.
Silas looked from Alejandro to her.
“Boss?”
Alejandro didn't answer.
His eyes remained fixed on Sophia.
“Who was your grandmother?”
Sophia swallowed.
“Why?”
“Her name.”
“I don't see how that's relevant.”
Alejandro stepped closer.
Every instinct Sophia possessed told her to retreat.
She had spent seven years learning how to recognize danger before it reached her.
The expensive suit.
The quiet voice.
The men who waited for orders.
She knew this kind of danger.
She had grown up around it.
“Miss Brooks,” Alejandro said, “I'm asking you a question.”
“And I'm trying to calm a frightened child.”
That stopped him.
Leo sat in his chair, breathing unevenly.
His cheeks were wet.
His little hands trembled against the tablecloth.
Sophia turned toward him.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Leo looked up.
“Too loud.”
“I know.”
She crouched beside him, keeping enough distance that he could move away if he wanted.
“Would you like somewhere quieter?”
He nodded.
Sophia glanced at Alejandro.
“Does he have a quiet room he can use?”
Silas immediately answered.
“The private lounge.”
“Good.”
Alejandro looked at his son.
Then nodded.
“Take us there.”
Sophia stood.
Marco, the restaurant manager, appeared beside her.
“Miss Brooks, you need to return to your section.”
Alejandro turned.
“No.”
Marco froze.
Alejandro's voice became dangerously calm.
“She stays.”
Sophia looked at him.
“Actually, I decide whether I stay.”
Silas went completely still.
Marco looked ready to faint.
Alejandro stared at her.
Then something unexpected happened.
He smiled.
Not warmly.
Not exactly.
But with unmistakable surprise.
“Then I'm asking.”
Sophia hesitated.
Leo reached toward her.
“Song?”
Her heart softened.
She looked at the little boy.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
The private lounge was smaller than the dining room.
A single lamp illuminated a leather sofa.
The curtains were drawn.
There was no music.
No clinking silverware.
No strangers staring.
Leo settled onto the sofa beside his father.
Sophia sat in a chair nearby.
She began humming the lullaby again.
The melody was old.
Older than her grandmother.
Older than the apartment where she'd grown up.
It was a song about a little bird crossing the sea to find its way home.
Her grandmother had sung it when thunderstorms frightened her.
When nightmares woke her.
When Sophia cried for a mother she could barely remember.
Leo's breathing slowed.
His eyelids drooped.
Within minutes, he was asleep.
Alejandro watched him.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he looked at Sophia.
“My mother sang that song.”
Sophia froze.
Alejandro continued.
“She died when I was nineteen.”
Sophia swallowed.
“I'm sorry.”
He studied her.
“But that isn't why I recognized it.”
Her pulse quickened.
Alejandro leaned forward.
“My sister sang it too.”
Sophia stared.
“Your sister?”
He nodded.
“Her name was Isabella.”
Something cold moved through Sophia's chest.
Alejandro's voice became quieter.
“She disappeared twenty-two years ago.”
Sophia looked away.
Because her grandmother had once told her something she had never forgotten.
May you like
If anyone asks where you learned the song, tell them you don't remember.
And now she understood why.
