Chapter 6: The Name I Was Never Given
The next morning, I woke up convinced the entire thing had been a nightmare.
That was the only explanation that made sense.
A mafia boss.
A mysterious photograph.
A dead woman whose name apparently shouldn’t exist.
A baby who had somehow decided I was his favorite person in the world.
My brain had finally broken.
Then I opened my eyes and saw the envelope sitting on my kitchen table.
Reality returned immediately.
I lived in a tiny apartment above a laundromat.
The pipes screamed every morning at six.
The neighbors argued through the walls.
My refrigerator made a sound like it was dying.
This was not the kind of place where mysterious men left evidence.
Yet there it was.
Waiting.
I made coffee.
I didn’t drink it.
I stared at the necklace instead.
The silver star sat in my palm.
My grandmother had given it to me when I was eight.
I remembered the moment.
Her hands shaking slightly as she fastened it around my neck.
Her voice soft.
“Never lose this, Avery.””
I had asked why.
She had smiled.
“Because someday someone will ask you about it.””
At eight years old, I thought that was just something old people said.
Now?
Now I wondered if she had been warning me.
My phone rang.
I jumped.
It was Greg.
I answered.
“Hello?””
“Avery.””
His voice was tense.
“Are you okay?””
I sat down.
“Why wouldn’t I be?””
A pause.
“That’s a weird question.””
“Greg.””
“I’m serious.””
I looked toward my window.
“Did someone call you?””
“Someone came into the restaurant asking about you.””
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Who?””
“I don’t know.””
“What did they look like?””
“Like someone I didn’t want to argue with.””
That was not comforting.
“Greg, what did they ask?””
Another pause.
Then quietly:
“They asked if you were Eleanor Hayes’ granddaughter.””
The room went silent.
I closed my eyes.
“Did you tell them?””
“No.””
“Good.””
“Avery.””
“What?””
“Who is Eleanor Hayes?””
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know anymore.
“I’ll call you later.””
I hung up.
Five minutes later, there was a knock at my door.
I froze.
Nobody visited me.
Not unexpectedly.
Not ever.
The knock came again.
Three slow taps.
My entire body went still.
Then a voice.
“Avery.””
Luca.
I opened the door before I could stop myself.
He stood there without the expensive suit.
No tie.
No jacket.
Just a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
He looked less like a powerful man.
More like someone who hadn’t slept.
Behind him stood two men.
I immediately frowned.
“You brought security to my apartment?””
“Yes.””
“That’s terrifying.””
“It’s necessary.””
“I’m not sure which part of that sentence worries me more.””
For the first time, exhaustion showed on his face.
“Avery.””
Something about the way he said my name made me stop joking.
“What?””
“I found records.””
My heart dropped.
“About my grandmother?””
“Yes.””
I stepped aside.
“Come in.””
Luca entered my apartment and looked around.
Not judgmentally.
Almost carefully.
Like he was seeing proof of how different our worlds were.
His eyes landed on the old photographs on my bookshelf.
One of me and my grandmother.
One of us at a beach.
One of her holding me when I was a child.
He picked one up.
Slowly.
“This is her?””
“Yes.””
He stared.
Then whispered:
“She lied to you.””
I felt anger before fear.
“Excuse me?””
“She lied about everything.””
I took the photograph from him.
“Don’t talk about her like that.””
“Avery.””
“No.””
My voice sharpened.
“You don’t get to walk into my home and insult the only person who raised me.””
His expression softened.
“I’m not insulting her.””
“Then what are you doing?””
“Trying to understand why my father’s records list Eleanor Hayes as the woman who saved my family.””
I stared.
“What?””
Luca looked at me.
And for the first time, he looked like he hated the truth he was about to say.
“Your grandmother wasn’t just Eleanor Hayes.””
My breathing slowed.
“What was she?””
He hesitated.
Then:
“Her real name was Elena Moretti.””
The room tilted.
“No.””
“Yes.””
“That’s impossible.””
“I said the same thing.””
I shook my head.
“My grandmother wasn’t Italian. She was from Ohio.””
Luca gave a humorless laugh.
“That’s the story she gave you.””
I backed away.
“No.””
“Avery—”
“No.””
Because if Luca was right, then my entire life had been built on something false.
My memories.
My family.
My name.
Everything.
Then my eyes fell on the photograph again.
The one of my grandmother holding me.
And suddenly I noticed something I had never noticed before.
Around her neck was a necklace.
A silver star.
The exact same one.
Luca saw my face change.
“What?””
I pointed.
“My grandmother had this.””
He looked.
Then went completely still.
“Where did you get yours?””
I touched the pendant.
“She gave it to me.””
Luca stepped closer.
His voice dropped.
“Avery…”
“What?””
He looked toward the door.
Toward his security.
Toward the world outside.
Then back at me.
“That necklace belonged to my mother.””
I couldn’t speak.
Luca’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then all the color disappeared from his face.
“What happened?””
A pause.
His eyes moved to mine.
“No.””
Another pause.
Then:
“Keep him away from her.””
I felt my stomach drop.
“Who was that?””
Luca lowered the phone.
His expression was no longer confused.
It was fear.
“The man who has been looking for you.””
“Who?””
Luca stared at my necklace.
May you like
Then said the one name I never expected to hear.
“My brother.””
