Chapter 92 Enzo's Progress
Enzo
My mother had mentioned a blanket. A memory. Something about the baby.
But a birthmark—I'm not so sure about it.
"What did it look like?" I asked.
"She couldn't describe it clearly. She stated that it was included in the file. The file contains photos from the intake medical exam. I'll have them tonight."
"Send them the moment you get them. I don't care what time it is."
"I will. Enzo—" He hesitated. "Do you think this is her? Your sister?"
"I don't know. But I need to find out." I paced the hallway. I was reminded of the girl I saw at Crimson last night. The blind girl with Jeremy Santoro. Could you please verify if that is the same Amelia? Find out how she ended up working for the Santoros. Find out everything."
"Already on it. I've got someone discreetly asking around. Should have confirmation by tonight."
"Good. Call me the second you know anything. Anything at all."
"I will. Enzo—if this is her, if we found her—"
"Then I need to figure out how to tell her. How to prove it. How to—" I stopped. "Just get me the information. I'll handle the rest."
"Understood."
He hung up.
I stood in the empty hallway, my phone still pressed to my ear, and tried to process what I'd just heard.
St Mary's orphanage. A blind girl was found on the street near the docks. She was brought in at the age of six. Named Amelia. Released six months ago.
The same timeline. The same age. The same disability.
I am currently employed by Jeremy Santoro. Living at his estate. Protected by him.
What were the odds that there were two blind girls named Amelia in the same city? Both eighteen? Both with unknown backgrounds?
Not high. Not high at all.
Which meant—
Which meant I'd found her. My sister. My father had compelled my mother to leave the baby behind.
She was alive. She'd survived. Despite all the challenges, she had managed to survive.
And last night, I'd been standing twenty feet away from her.
The rest of the day crawled by.
I tried to work. Couldn't focus. Tried to eat. Couldn't swallow. I attempted to focus on anything other than the information Marcus had shared with me.
But it was impossible.
My sister. Alive. Working for the Santoros. She was under the special protection of Jeremy Santoro.
Did Jeremy know who she was? Did she know who she was? Did anyone know?
Or had my father buried the secret so deep that even now, eighteen years later, no one suspected?
My phone buzzed. Marcus:
Got the file. Sending photos now. And confirmation—the Amelia at St Mary's is the same one working for Santoro. Staff recognised her description. Timeline matches. It's her.
Three photos came through.
The first: Intake documentation. A six-year-old girl. Medical examination notes. Vision: completely blind. Origin: unknown. Joseph Brennan, a local farmer, brought her in.
The second: A grainy photo. The girl's face. Young. Scared. But recognisable even through years and poor image quality.
The same face I'd seen last night at Crimson was there.
Amelia.
The third photo loaded.
A birthmark. The birthmark was located on the left shoulder blade. Distinctive shape. Almost like—
I zoomed in.
My breath caught.
The birthmark was shaped like a crescent moon. The birthmark had three small dots arranged in a curve beneath it.
The Morano family crest. Simplified. Stylised. However, if one knew what to look for, it was unmistakable.
My mother's words echoed: I wonder if the baby lived or died.
She'd lived. She'd survived. She'd carried the proof of her heritage on her skin for eighteen years.
And no one had known.
I saved the photos. Backed them up. Sent copies to my encrypted storage.
Then I called Marcus.
"It's her," I said when he answered. "The birthmark. It's the Morano crest. She's my sister."
"Cristo," Marcus breathed. "What do you want me to do?"
"Keep digging. I need to know everything about her life. St Mary's to now. How she ended up with the Santoros. What her relationship with Jeremy is. Everything."
"And then?"
"Then I figure out how to tell her who she is. How can I bring her back home? How to—" I stopped. "How can I return her to the family who abandoned her?"
"Enzo, if your father finds out—"
"He won't. Not until I'm ready. Not until I've talked to her. Not until I know she's safe." I stood. Paced my office. "This stays between us. You understand? No one else knows. Not Marco. No one, not even my mother, knows.
"Understood. I'll keep working. I'll send updates as I get them."
"Thank you."
I hung up.
I sat down at my desk to continue working.
I stared at the photo of the six-year-old girl who had grown up to become the woman I had seen last night.
Amelia. My sister. The Morano heir who'd been abandoned. Who'd survived. She had managed to find her way to the Santoro family.
I didn't know how yet. But I was going to bring her home.
I was going to give her back everything she'd lost.
Even if it meant destroying my relationship with my father, I was determined to bring her back.
I was willing to do so even if it meant tearing the family apart.
She deserved that much.
She deserved to know who she was.