Chapter 2 - The Woman They ErasedLuca did not allow the party to continue.
Not one.
Doctors in Boston, New York, Chicago, and even Switzerland had examined her. Specialists had studied scans, tested nerves, measured muscle response, and argued over diagnoses in private conference rooms while her father paid whatever number appeared on the invoice.
Nothing changed.
Emilia remained in her wheelchair.
And Luca DeLuca learned to stop asking for miracles.
That was why, on the night of his mother's sixty-fifth birthday celebration, Luca nearly forgot how to breathe.
The ballroom of the Halcyon Grand Hotel glittered beneath crystal chandeliers. Nearly three hundred guests filled the marble room—politicians, businessmen, judges, old family allies, and men who knew better than to ask how Luca DeLuca had become one of the most feared men on the East Coast before turning forty.
Luca stood beside Emilia's wheelchair near the head table.
She wore a pale rose dress and tiny gold shoes that had never touched the floor.
"You tired, piccola?" he asked.
Emilia shook her head.
Then she stopped looking at him.
Her entire face changed.
Across the ballroom, near a service entrance, stood a woman Luca had never seen before.
She was plus-size, perhaps thirty-five, with brown hair pinned loosely behind her head. She wore a simple cream blouse and beige trousers that looked painfully ordinary among the designer gowns surrounding her.
She was carrying a sewing kit.
One of the event coordinators was speaking to her, apparently about a torn dress.
But the woman wasn't listening anymore.
She was staring at Emilia.
And she looked terrified.
Emilia's fingers tightened around the arms of her wheelchair.
"Daddy."
Luca followed her gaze.
"What?"
Emilia whispered one word.
"Anna."
Luca frowned.
"What did you say?"
The woman across the room took a step backward.
Emilia suddenly grabbed the wheelchair armrests.
Her body rose.
For a second, Luca thought he was imagining it.
Then both of Emilia's feet touched the marble.
Someone dropped a glass.
Luca went completely still.
"Emilia?"
Her knees trembled.
Her face tightened with effort.
But she remained standing.
Gasps spread through the ballroom.
One doctor who had treated Emilia for years pushed through the crowd.
"Don't move her!"
Emilia ignored him.
She took one step.
Then another.
Luca's heart slammed against his ribs.
"Emilia, wait."
She stepped faster.
Her wheelchair rolled backward behind her.
People moved aside.
Three hundred guests watched the impossible unfold.
Emilia DeLuca—who had supposedly been unable to walk since infancy—crossed the ballroom on shaking legs.
Then she began to run.
"Anna!"
The woman near the service door covered her mouth.
"No."
Emilia ran directly into her arms.
The woman collapsed to her knees and caught her.
For several seconds neither moved.
Then Emilia began sobbing.
"You came back."
The stranger hugged her so tightly Luca could see her hands shaking.
"Oh, sweetheart."
"You said you'd come back."
"I tried."
Luca heard those two words.
His shock vanished.
Something colder replaced it.
He walked toward them.
People instinctively moved from his path.
The woman saw him coming.
Her face lost all color.
Emilia clung tighter.
"Don't let him hurt you."
Luca stopped.
The entire ballroom went silent.
"Why would she think I would hurt you?"
The woman looked at Emilia.
Then at Luca.
"I don't."
"Who are you?"
Her throat moved.
"My name is Anna Mercer."
Luca searched his memory.
Nothing.
"How does my daughter know you?"
Anna hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Luca looked toward his mother, Bianca DeLuca.
Bianca stood beside the head table.
Her champagne glass was frozen halfway to her lips.
And for the first time in Luca's memory, his mother looked afraid.
Anna saw Bianca too.
Her expression hardened.
Luca noticed.
His eyes moved between them.
"You know my mother."
Anna said nothing.
Bianca finally spoke.
"Luca, this is neither the time nor the place."
That was the wrong answer.
Luca's voice dropped.
"Then there is something to discuss."
Emilia suddenly pulled at Anna's sleeve.
"Show him."
Anna shook her head.
"Emilia—"
"Show Daddy."
The little girl grabbed Anna's left wrist.
The sleeve slid upward.
An old burn scar crossed Anna's forearm.
Emilia stared at it as if seeing something sacred.
Then she reached into the small satin purse attached to her wheelchair.
She removed a blackened brass button.
Anna's eyes filled instantly.
Luca looked from the button to the scar.
"What is that?"
Emilia answered.
"The night of the fire."
Luca stopped breathing.
Seven years earlier, a fire had destroyed the guest wing of the DeLuca estate.
Emilia had been eleven months old.
Everyone had told Luca his daughter had been found unconscious in her nursery after smoke inhalation.
That night had supposedly caused the neurological damage that left her unable to walk.
But Emilia had been a baby.
She should not have remembered anything.
Luca crouched in front of her.
"Emilia, who gave you that?"
She pointed at Anna.
"She did."
Anna began crying silently.
Luca's voice became almost inaudible.
"What happened that night?"
Emilia looked toward Bianca.
May you like
Then she whispered something that turned the ballroom colder than winter.
"Grandma knows."
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