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LARK

O ur bodies found one another’s throughout the night, and in between our lovemaking, we slept, holding each other in a way that as much of our bodies as possible touched.

When I woke and the sun was streaming in through the window, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Alessandro’s eyes were open too.

“Good morning, cuore mio ,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss my shoulder.

“How long have you been awake?” I asked.

“Not long. I’ve been drifting in and out of sleep. Dreaming of you, then realizing reality is so much better.”

“Mmm,” I murmured, snuggling closer to him.

“How do you feel this morning?”

I smiled. “A very satisfied sore. And don’t you dare apologize.”

“Never,” he teased. “At least not for making love to you.”

His arms tightened around me, and I could feel the immediate change in his muscles.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

“Today. I’ve come to a decision.”

I turned to face him.

“I’m going to the compound. I have to, Lark. We have to know, once and for all, who is there.”

“I understand.”

“The question is, do you want to go with me?”

Uncertainty and indecision warred within me as my eyes darted between his.

“I’ll warn you, it won’t be without danger. The decision is yours, but…”

“You don’t think I should go.”

He sighed. “Part of me does, part of me doesn’t.”

“You’ll keep me informed of what you find?”

“Of course I will.”

“Then, no. I’ll stay here with Gram.”

As reluctant as we both were to get out of bed, Alessandro had called a meeting at the boathouse that would take place thirty minutes from now. When he asked if I wanted to attend, I declined like I had for going to the compound.

“I need to talk to Gram,” I said. “Or at least try. I’m not giving up.” Like every other time I’d tried to get information out of her, I anticipated she’d give me a brush off similar to her last one. “Some secrets are kept for a reason.”

After showering and walking Alessandro to the door when he left for the boathouse, I made a list of everything we’d learned from Alice yesterday. My plan was to gauge Gram’s reactions as I presented each one in a fact-based way, then ask leading questions.

After going upstairs for a cup of tea, I made my way back down to the bedroom where she’d sequestered herself. I doubted she’d even come out for breakfast yet.

“Gram? Can we please talk?” I asked, rapping softly on the door. When I heard rustling, I braced myself, raising and lowering my shoulders.

“Come in,” she called after what felt like an eternity, her voice muffled through the heavy door. I took a deep breath, clutching my notes like a shield, and entered.

She sat in the armchair by the window, her cane propped against the wall beside her. The morning light caught the silver in her hair, reminding me of old photographs I’d seen of her in her youth. Her hands were folded in her lap, but I could see them trembling.

I settled on the edge of her bed, close enough to talk, but far enough to give her space. “There are some things we’ve learned. Things that don’t make sense. I thought maybe if I shared them with you…”

“Little bird.” The familiar nickname carried a weight of sadness I’d never heard before. “Some things?—”

“Are kept secret for a reason. Yes, I know.” I unfolded my paper, determined to stay calm. “But, Gram, these aren’t just any secrets. They’re about my mother. About Alessandro’s mother. About why Vincent Castellano had me watched my entire life.”

She flinched at Vincent’s name, her fingers clutching the arms of her chair. “What do you mean, watched?”

“Alice found photographs. Hundreds of them, spanning years.” My voice cracked slightly. “Someone’s been following me since I was a toddler.” I watched for any sign of recognition. Any hint that she’d known about this surveillance all along. “Did you know?”

Her silence was answer enough. She had no intention of telling me she had.

“There was a DNA match to mine,” I continued. “To someone named Richard Mazzeo. According to Alice, the percentage of shared genetics indicates he would’ve been my great-grandfather. On my father’s side, obviously.”

Gram’s fingers clutched the armrests of her chair. “That name means nothing to me.”

“Really? Because one of the guys who came into the coffee shop had a Mazzeo family-crest tattoo. Seems like quite a coincidence.”

She turned to look out the window, but not before I caught the flash of recognition in her eyes. “Coincidences happen all the time.”

“Like the Castellano compound on Great Sacandaga Lake having occupants after sitting empty for years?” I pressed on. “Alice found evidence that as many as three people might be living there now.”

“Little bird—” Her voice held a warning, but I couldn’t heed it. Not now.

“And there’s more.” My hands trembled as I consulted my notes, though I’d memorized every detail. “They found a body back in 1998. An unidentified woman. They’re running DNA tests.” I paused, gauging her reaction. “There might have been a second person—one who was injured but got away.”

Gram’s face had gone ashen. “Stop.”

“No.” I stood, my earlier resolve to remain calm crumbling. “I need to know about my father. About Amelia Castellano. About my mother. Where is she, Gram? What really happened?”

“I told you—some things are better left?—”

“In the past. Yes, I know.” I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. “And as I said, this isn’t just the past, Gram. This is my life. My history. Why did my mother leave me with you? I don’t believe it was because she wanted some fancy, glamorous life. I think it was something else entirely.”

She was quiet for so long I thought she wouldn’t respond. Finally, she said, “There were complications. With the birth.”

I sat back down, hardly daring to breathe. This was the first new information she’d offered in years. “What kind of complications?”

“Your mother…” She twisted her hands in her lap. “She needed surgery, then time to recover. She asked me to care for you while she did.”

“And then? Why didn’t she come back for me after she recovered?”

But Gram’s momentary openness had already closed. She turned back to the window, her profile rigid. “This is all Alessandro’s fault,” she said quietly. “Making you believe you can dig up the past without consequences.”

“No.” I stood again. “You don’t get to blame him for this. We’re going to Great Sacandaga Lake, Gram. We’re going to find out who’s living there.”

The color drained from her face completely. She grabbed her cane and used it to push herself up, swaying slightly. “You can’t,” she whispered. “Lark, please. You have no idea—” Her voice broke. “The danger?—”

“ Then, tell me! Tell me what you know, what you’re so afraid of!”

But she just shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Go if you must. But remember I warned you—some doors, once opened, can never be closed again. Whatever happens, the consequences will be on your shoulders and Alessandro’s. I’ve done all I can do.” She turned so her back was to me.

I moved toward the door, my heart heavy. “I’ll leave you alone for now, Gram. But this isn’t over. Whatever you’re hiding, whatever you’re afraid of—I’m going to find out the truth.”

As I reached for the doorknob, the sound of her crying made my chest ache.

“Gram, please. Just tell me.”

She shook her head. “Please be careful.”

I turned and left, closing the door softly behind me. I knew she was still crying, but I couldn’t let it stop me. Not anymore. Whatever secrets lay hidden at Great Sacandaga Lake, whatever truth she was protecting me from—it was time to face it head-on.

I made my way upstairs in a daze. Gram’s reaction to what I’d said about as many as three people on the Castellano compound had been visceral—almost as though she’d expected it. Known about it. The thought made my stomach churn. How many other secrets was she keeping? How many lives had been shaped by the choices made that summer?

Alice’s office was a stark contrast to the cozy bedroom where I’d just confronted Gram. Multiple screens were filled with satellite images, property records, and what looked like financial documents. The technical precision of it all made my earlier conversation with Gram feel even more frustrating—emotion and evasion versus cold, hard data.

“What did you find?” I asked, sinking into the chair beside her desk.

She glanced at me, concern evident in her expression. “Are you okay? You look…”

“Like I just spent a half hour trying to get answers from someone determined not to give them?” I attempted a smile, but it felt brittle. “Gram finally admitted there were complications with my birth. That my mother needed surgery, then time to recover, and that was the reason I went to live with her. I got the impression it was supposed to be temporary.” I swallowed hard. “But when I pressed for more details, she shut down completely—again.”

Alice nodded sympathetically, then turned to her screens. “I might have found something that explains her reaction.” She pulled up a series of documents. “Hospital records from 1998. There was an incident?—”

A door opened somewhere below, followed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Alessandro appeared on the threshold moments later, his expression troubled. “Alice, can you pull up those old surveillance photos again? The ones from 1998?”

She nodded, fingers flying across her keyboard. “What are we looking for?”

“Tank thinks he spotted something in the background of one of them.” He moved to stand behind me, one hand resting on my shoulder as I processed what we were seeing. “There—in that window.”

Alice zoomed in on the image. Though grainy, I could make out a figure watching from one of the house’s upper windows. “Who is that?”

“Not sure,” Alessandro said quietly. “But look at the date stamp.”

My heart skipped a beat as I read it. Two days after my birth.

“There’s something else,” Alice said, her voice hesitant. “Those hospital records I mentioned? They’re from a medical facility in Saratoga Springs. Two women came in that night. One was in labor, but the other was pregnant too.” She pointed to the screen. “She complained of cramping in her stomach and bleeding.”

The air seemed to leave the room. “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

“The second woman might’ve been having a miscarriage. The reports are incomplete, but…” She glanced between Alessandro and me. “Think about it. The dates match. Both with your birth, Lark, and with when your mother disappeared, Alessandro. What if the woman who brought Summer to the hospital was your mother?”

When his hand tightened on my shoulder, I rested mine on top of it.

“This is where it gets strange. There’s no record of either woman or a baby being discharged. They just…vanished.” Alice pulled up another window. “But someone paid the hospital bills. Care to guess who?”

“Vincent,” Alessandro said, his voice hard.

I thought of the photos he’d kept, of the surveillance that had followed me since childhood. Of Gram’s cryptic comments about my mother needing to recover. How many pieces of this puzzle had been right in front of us all along? Yet, like before, none fit together.

“I’m going to the compound now, Lark. I can’t wait any longer,” Alessandro said under his breath before turning to cup my cheek.

My voice cracked. “What if…what if our mothers are there? What if they’ve been there all along?”

His dark eyes held mine, and I saw my own mix of hope and fear reflected there. “Then, I’ll find them,” he said softly.