Chapter 91 Discovery
ENZO
I'd been in Marco's office settling the bill when I heard the commotion.
There were voices echoing from the main room. Someone's arrival.
Curiosity got the better of me. I stepped out to see what was happening.
And froze.
Jeremy Santoro. Clearly drunk. A young girl is leading him toward the exit.
Young and blind. With a white cane in one hand, Jeremy gripped her other arm.
She was small. Delicate features. She has long dark hair. She was cautiously making her way through a room filled with potentially dangerous men.
And there was something—
Something familiar about her. Something I couldn't place.
It was the way she carried herself. I was struck by the shape of her face. Something about her tugged at memory.
"Who is that?" I asked Marco, who'd come to stand beside me.
"The blind girl? That's Amelia. Used to work here. Now she's—" He paused. "She's connected to Santoro somehow. Not sure of the details."
Amelia. No last name. Just Amelia.
I watched as Jeremy and the girl moved toward the exit. I observed how Jeremy, despite being twice her size, leaned on her. Despite her lack of vision, she steadied him.
There was intimacy there. Care. There was a deeper level of intimacy than that of an employer and employee.
"How long has she been with Santoro?" I asked.
Marco shrugged. "Few months maybe? She disappeared from here suddenly after Antonio came to talk to her. She later reappeared at his estate. That's all I know."
Few months. She looked young. Eighteen, maybe. Nineteen at most.
And blind.
The thought came unbidden: My sister would be eighteen now. If she survived.
I shook it off. It's just a coincidence. Nothing more. There are plenty of blind girls in New York. This one just happened to work for Jeremy Santoro.
But still.
Something about her face. There was something unique about the way she moved. Something—
"You alright?" Marco asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine." I turned away from the exit. "Just tired. Long night."
"Tell me about it."
But as I returned to Marco's office to finish the paperwork, I couldn't shake the image.
A blind girl. Named Amelia. No last name. Unknown background.
Working for the Santoros. Jeremy Santoro personally provided her protection.
What were the odds?
I pulled out my phone. Texted my investigator:
There's a new lead. Blind girl, age 18-19, named Amelia, currently employed by the Santoro family. Find out everything. Background, history, where she came from. Priority one.
His response came quickly:
I'm on it. I will have preliminary information by morning.
I put the phone away.
It's probably nothing. Probably just coincidence.
But I'd learned long ago not to ignore instinct. And something about that girl—
Something felt important.
I'd know more in the morning.
I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. Amelia, the blind girl from Crimson, was always present in my dreams.
The manner in which she navigated that room was truly remarkable. The shape of her face struck me as familiar. There was a sense of familiarity about her. Her face evoked a sense of familiarity that I couldn't quite place.
At 6am, I gave up on sleep. Made coffee. I took a seat at my desk and gazed intently at my phone.
Marcus Klein. My investigator. He'd said he'd have preliminary information by morning.
It was morning now.
I called him.
It went straight to voicemail.
I waited five minutes. Called again.
Voicemail.
Frustration built in my chest. I needed answers. I was eager to determine whether the feelings I was experiencing were a result of instinct or paranoia. Needed to know if that girl was—
My phone buzzed. Text from Marcus:
Can't talk right now. A family emergency has arisen in my hometown. Had to leave the city overnight. I will call you as soon as I can.
I stared at the message. Family emergency. What convenient timing.
Perhaps it was simply a coincidence.
I texted back: When will you be available? I need that information.
Working on it. I anticipate completing the task by the end of the day. Will call.
End of day. Hours from now. Too long.
But what choice did I have?
I put the phone down. I attempted to concentrate on other tasks. Territory reports. Financial statements. Business that needed attention.
But my mind kept drifting. Back to that girl. Back to the way she'd steadied Jeremy despite being half his size. Back to the fact that she was blind. Young. She was given the name Amelia and had no last name.
She resembled my sister in every way. If she'd survived.
2:47 PM
I was in a meeting with my brother Marco M and our accountant when my phone buzzed.
I glanced at the screen. Marcus.
"Excuse me." I stood. "I need to take this."
I stepped into the hallway. Answered. "Tell me you have something."
"I have something." Marcus sounded excited. Energised. "Enzo, I think I found her."
My heart stopped. "What?"
"I found an orphanage. St. Mary's. About forty minutes outside the city. Small operation. They specialise in difficult placements—kids with disabilities, medical issues, and behavioural problems."
"And?"
"The director wasn't there when I first visited. She was out of town. But she got back this afternoon. Her name is Mrs Thomas. She has been running the place for twenty-five years.
"Did you talk to her?"
"Yes. And Enzo—" He paused. "They had a blind girl. She came to them eighteen years ago. Around the right age."
I gripped the phone tighter. "Tell me everything."
"Mrs Thomas said the girl was brought in by a local farmer. Joseph Brennan, an old man, brought the girl in. He'd found her on the street. Abandoned. She appeared to be between three and four years old. Completely blind. No ID. No parents. No one came looking for her."
"Where is this farmer now?"
"Dead. He passed away about ten years ago due to natural causes." Papers rustling. " But here's the thing—Mrs Thomas said Brennan claimed he found the girl in a rough part of the city. Near the docks. Just—left there. Like someone dumped her and drove away."
The docks. Where my father would have gone. Where he could have abandoned a baby without being seen.
"Did she remember the girl's name?"
"Amelia," Marcus said it quietly. "Just Amelia. No last name. Brennan never found out who her parents were. She didn't speak much when she first arrived. Traumatized, probably. They kept her at St Mary's from age six to eighteen."
Age six. It was precisely the age at which my mother had been shedding tears. That's also the age at which the abandoned baby would have been when she was finally found.
"Is she still there?" My voice came out rough.
"No. She aged out. They released her when she turned eighteen. "That was about six months ago, Enzo," she said. Six months."
Six months ago. Recent. Very recent.
"Where did she go? Do they know?"
"Mrs Thomas said she gave Amelia a hundred dollars and the address of a shelter. This is the standard procedure for kids who are about to age out. She doesn't know what happened after that. No follow-up. No contact." He paused. "But Enzo—there's more."
"What?"
"I asked if I could see Amelia's file. Medical records. Intake documentation. Anything that might help identify her."
"And?" I pressed for more information.
"Mrs Thomas is getting the file now. She said she'd make copies and send them to me by tonight. But she mentioned—she mentioned there were some unusual markings. A birthmark on the girl's shoulder blade. It looks very distinctive. She remembered it specifically."
A birthmark. On the shoulder blade.