The glass hit the table.
Nobody moved.
Wine spread across the white cloth, running between the plates and silverware.
Gabriel looked at his mother.
Then at Chloe.
“What did you just say to her?”
Chloe’s hands dropped immediately.
“Nothing.”
Beatrice grabbed her wrist.
The old woman’s fingers were surprisingly strong.
She looked directly into Chloe’s eyes.
Then she signed again.
Slowly this time.
Where did you learn that sign?
Chloe swallowed.
“My brother.”
Beatrice shook her head.
Not your brother.
She pointed toward the pendant beneath Chloe’s collar.
That.
Chloe instinctively covered it.
Gabriel stood.
The chair scraped loudly against the floor.
“Take your hand off it.”
Chloe froze.
“I wasn’t—”
“I said take your hand off it.”
She did.
The silver pendant rested against her uniform.
It was tiny.
An old Sicilian symbol engraved into the metal.
Chloe had worn it every day since she was twelve.
Her mother had given it to her the night before she disappeared.
At least, that’s what Chloe had always believed.
Gabriel stared at it.
His face had changed.
Not anger.
Something worse.
Recognition.
“Where did you get that?”
Chloe touched the pendant.
“My mother.”
One of the men at the table whispered something in Italian.
Gabriel turned sharply.
“Quiet.”
Beatrice was still holding Chloe’s wrist.
Her eyes were wet.
She signed something rapidly.
Gabriel watched her hands.
His expression tightened.
“Ma…”
Beatrice slapped his hand away when he tried to stop her.
Then she signed again.
Faster.
Gabriel couldn’t follow.
For the first time that night, Chloe saw fear in the man’s face.
Not fear of someone else.
Fear of his mother.
Chloe translated without thinking.
“She says you knew.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“Knew what?”
“That she wasn’t dead.”
The restaurant seemed to disappear.
The clinking glasses.
The music.
The conversations.
Everything.
Gabriel stared at Chloe.
Beatrice began crying.
Chloe’s voice shook.
“She says you knew her daughter was alive.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“My sister died twenty-two years ago.”
Beatrice shook her head violently.
She signed again.
Chloe watched.
Then her own face went pale.
“She says…”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“What?”
“She says you’re lying.”
Nobody at the table moved.
One of the men reached beneath his jacket.
Gabriel stopped him with a look.
Then he leaned toward Chloe.
“What was your mother’s name?”
Chloe hesitated.
“Maria.”
Beatrice’s hands suddenly flew to her mouth.
She signed one word.
Maria?
Chloe nodded.
The old woman began sobbing.
Gabriel backed away from the table.
“No.”
Beatrice grabbed his sleeve.
She pulled him down and signed directly into his face.
Gabriel stared at her hands.
His lips parted.
“No.”
He turned toward Chloe.
“What’s your full name?”
“Chloe Moretti.”
The color drained from his face.
One of the men at the table whispered:
“Impossible.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Get out.”
“But—”
“Now.”
The men stood.
Chairs moved.
People at nearby tables began staring.
Gabriel turned back to Chloe.
“Your mother.”
Chloe’s voice was barely audible.
“She died when I was fourteen.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“Where?”
“Outside Syracuse.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
Beatrice began signing again.
Chloe watched every movement.
Her breathing stopped.
“She says that wasn’t an accident.”
Gabriel opened his eyes.
“Don’t.”
Chloe looked at him.
“She says you were there.”
Gabriel said nothing.
“She says you watched.”
His mother struck the table with both hands.
Gabriel flinched.
Then Beatrice pointed at Chloe’s pendant.
She signed one final sentence.
Chloe translated it.
“She says your father gave this to my mother the night he ordered her killed.”
Gabriel went completely still.
The restaurant had gone silent.
Chloe slowly pulled the pendant from beneath her uniform.
There was a tiny clasp on the back she’d never noticed.
Beatrice reached for it.
Her trembling fingers opened the pendant.
Inside was a photograph.
A young woman.
A young man.
And between them, a little girl.
Chloe stared.
She knew the woman.
Her mother.
She didn’t know the man.
But Gabriel did.
He picked up the pendant.
His hand began shaking.
“That’s my father.”
Beatrice nodded.
Then she pointed at the little girl.
Chloe’s eyes filled with tears.
“That isn’t me.”
Beatrice looked at her.
And signed:
No.
She pointed toward Gabriel.
Then toward the photograph.
Then toward Chloe.
Gabriel stared at the image for several seconds.
Finally, he whispered:
“That’s my sister.”
Chloe shook her head.
“No.”
Gabriel looked at her.
His voice broke.
“My father told us she was killed.”
Beatrice signed again.
Chloe translated automatically.
“She wasn’t killed.”
Gabriel swallowed.
“She was taken.”
“By who?”
Beatrice looked toward the restaurant entrance.
Her face suddenly changed.
She stopped signing.
Gabriel noticed.
“What?”
The old woman pointed toward the window.
A black car had stopped outside.
Another pulled in behind it.
Gabriel’s hand moved slowly toward his jacket.
Chloe whispered:
“Who are they?”
Beatrice grabbed Chloe’s hand.
She signed one last warning.
Chloe understood immediately.
And for the first time, Gabriel did too.
Because Beatrice wasn’t pointing at the men outside.
She was pointing at Gabriel.