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J ulia was opening a bottle of Chianti when she heard Fiamma’s car in the driveway.

She popped the cork, smoothed her hair, and hustled from the kitchen, stepping over the sleeping Bianco.

She told herself to stay calm, that she’d faced ruthless murderers tonight, so she should be able to deal with her bio mom .

Julia went outside and waved as Fiamma parked her car next to the police cruiser. The two officers nodded in acknowledgment, since she’d told them to expect a visitor. Fiamma drove a vintage maroon Karmann Ghia, so evidently Rossi wasn’t the only one with the car fetish.

Julia crossed to the car, managing a smile. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, thank you for having me.” Fiamma got out of the car with a smile that vanished when she scanned the villa. “My God! How did she let it get like this? This is shameful. I thought maybe it was only the driveway, but the villa, too? This is terrible. How did she live in this ruin ?”

“It’s clean inside,” Julia said, unaccountably defensive, whether of Rossi or the villa, she didn’t know. Maybe both.

“If you had seen it before, you would understand. This used to be beautiful, a magnificent villa.” Fiamma shook her head, aghast. “It had so much charm, and the grounds were stunning. She let it fall down around her.”

“You get used to it,” Julia said, surprised at the words leaving her own lips.

“What? How can you stay here? You must have been shocked when you arrived.” Fiamma looked at her, directly. “I guess you figured out my mother was crazy.”

Arg. “Let’s talk it over inside.” Julia led the way to the villa, and Fiamma followed her, entering the villa and frowning at the cracked walls, peeling paint, and broken floor tiles in the entrance hall.

“My God, this is madness, pure madness.”

“I like the frescoes,” Julia blurted out, awkward.

“Yes, true, there’s that.” Fiamma looked up, unsmiling. “I remember when she commissioned them. She planned every one.”

“How old were you?” Julia asked, but Fiamma was already heading into the living room, stopping at a distance from the broken wall to the underground tunnel.

Oh no. “I’m so sorry.” Julia went to her, feeling a rush of sympathy.

Fiamma seemed rooted to the spot, her expression agonized as she confronted a childhood horror. She didn’t speak for a moment, then said, “So you know.”

“Yes. I found the… room.”

“She had the entrance plastered over?”

“I guess so, yes.”

Fiamma shook her head. “It used to have a door.”

“I can’t imagine what it was like.”

“I can’t forget what it was like.” Fiamma spoke quietly, her voice pained. “She put me down there for a few days every month, sometimes a week, and it terrified me.”

Julia shuddered.

“Sometimes she would stay with me until I fell asleep, but then I would wake up, even more afraid because she was gone. I would scream but she didn’t let me out.”

Julia touched her arm. “Let’s go to the kitchen. We can have some wine.” She walked that way, and Fiamma followed her. They entered the kitchen, and Julia poured Chianti into their glasses while Fiamma looked around with disapproval.

“This kitchen used to be so wonderful. This is sad.” Fiamma’s expression changed when she noticed Bianco, still fully asleep. “This must be her dog. She adored this breed.”

“His name is Bianco.”

“I know. She names them all Bianco.”

“Really?” Julia almost laughed.

“I’m telling you, she was crazy.” Fiamma bent down and stroked Bianco’s head, smiling. “But she loved animals, I’ll give her that.”

“Here we go.” Julia handed Fiamma her glass, picked up her own, and hesitated, thinking of a toast. “To the future?”

“Yes, perfect.” Fiamma managed a smile, they clinked glasses and took a sip, and Julia never needed alcohol more than this very moment.

“Anyway, thank you for everything tonight. Courtney told me you called the police and they wouldn’t have gotten to me, if not for you acting so quickly.”

“It was the least I could do.”

It kind of was , Julia thought but didn’t say.

“Why were those men after you? What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you, but first I want to say I’m sorry about crashing your opening night. I never meant to ruin it for you.”

“The show?” Fiamma dismissed it with a wave. “I called Paolo and my friends to apologize. Don’t worry.”

“I didn’t know if I should come.”

Fiamma smiled. “I’m glad you did. It was brave of you.”

“Thank you,” Julia said, pleased, which struck her as pathetic. She was seeking the approval of a mother she didn’t know.

“I’ve dreamed about meeting you, and here we are.”

Aw. “That’s how I feel,” Julia said, relaxing a little. “When you spoke at the gallery, I was wondering if you were speaking to me. Were you?”

“Oh my goodness.” Fiamma sipped her wine, thoughtfully. “I have to say, I had the strangest feeling all day. I knew something wonderful was going to happen tonight, something really wonderful.”

Whoa. Julia wondered if Fiamma had the gift but didn’t interrupt her.

“I assumed the feeling was about the show, so I thought it meant I would sell some pieces. I didn’t intend to talk about the orphanage but when I saw you, I realized you were what was wonderful, not the show.

” Fiamma averted her eyes, as if she were thinking aloud.

“I kept saying to myself, who is that girl, she looks like me, I wonder how old she is, I wonder if it’s her , my baby girl . ”

Julia’s throat thickened, but she stayed silent.

“I have to say, I think of you all the time.” Fiamma met her eye, sadly. “On your birthday, on holidays. You were always with me.”

“Thank you,” Julia said, feeling Fiamma’s words resonating in her chest.

“So at the gallery tonight, I found myself saying what I did, knowing how those mothers must’ve felt so long ago because it was how I felt when I relinquished you, which is what they say instead of abandoned.

” Fiamma’s eyes filmed. “But I did abandon you. I felt I had to, and it was the hardest decision I ever made. I’ve never made peace with it, and then there you were tonight.

Before I gave you up, I memorized your face, every detail.

I knew exactly who you were, somehow.” Fiamma wiped away a tear.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, for you. I knew I couldn’t support you, I was so confused then, at that point in my life. ”

“Is that… what happened?” Julia felt tears in her eyes but held them off, and Fiamma’s anguished gaze traveled around the kitchen.

“I guess we should begin way back. I was so unhappy here, so miserable, with my mother. I tried to run away again and again when I was young, as young as thirteen, but she’d drive around until she found me, obsessively looking.

She was obsessive . Anyway I got away from her for good when I was seventeen.

I started drinking and partying, I made it to London, then back to Bologna and Padua.

” Fiamma’s lower lip puckered. “I became pregnant with my boyfriend, your father. You were born in Padua. He taught mathematics at the University.”

My God. Julia couldn’t believe she was finally hearing her own life story. She tried to stay in emotional control. “What was his name?”

“Roberto Colapinto. He was from Siena.”

“That’s not far, right? I think I’ve seen signs.”

“It’s in Tuscany.”

So, Tuscan blood . Julia tried to process Roberto Colapinto. “What did he look like?”

“Tall, thin, good-looking. We were so in love.” Fiamma smiled. “I think your nose is like his, I can show you pictures another time.”

“Great,” Julia said, trying to keep up. “What was he like?”

“A kind man, a brilliant man, but too serious-minded.”

“I’m serious-minded,” Julia blurted out. “Is that bad?”

“No, but that wasn’t why we didn’t marry.

I didn’t feel that I was ready to become a mother, given the way I was raised.

I just didn’t know if I could be a good mother to you.

I just didn’t know what a good mother was like, and he was too insecure to raise you on his own.

We both decided that you would be better off with a solid family, one more established.

” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry, I am. I placed you with a very good international adoption agency and I trusted them.

Were they good people, who adopted you?”

“Yes, a couple with no other children. My mother was wonderful, but I always wondered where you were.” Julia hesitated. “And when I got a letter about an inheritance from an Emilia Rossi, I didn’t know who she was, so I came to find out. Did you know about that?”

“The inheritance? No.”

Julia felt awkward. “I don’t know why she left it to me and not you. Of course I’d split it with you, or you can have it. You lived with her, you deserve it more.”

“I don’t want her money, not any.” Fiamma frowned. “No, thank you.”

“But the inheritance alone is around three million euros, and the land is worth much, much more. That’s what tonight was about, people are trying to get it and resell it for a hospitality complex that will be seven hundred million—”

“You keep the money, all of it,” Fiamma said, more gently. “I want you to have it, it’s your legacy. You’re her granddaughter, and it doesn’t surprise me that she left it to you.”

“How did she? I don’t even know how she knew about me, or where I lived, or anything.”

“That’s because you didn’t know my mother.” Fiamma’s eyes narrowed, and hostility edged her tone. “She claimed she was a Sforza, which was a wealthy royal family from the Renaissance.”

“I know, I heard, and there’s the bedroom fresco.” Julia wasn’t about to tell her that Caterina saved her in the Boboli and showed her the underground cell. Not yet, anyway.

“Oh, right, I forgot, that monstrosity of a family tree. My mother was obsessed with her own heritage, especially with Caterina.”

“Was she related to Caterina? Am I?”