Chapter 4 - Elena’s Christmas List
The list was written in purple ink.
That felt unfair.
A dead woman capable of rearranging my entire life should have used black.
Something formal.
Dramatic.
Instead, Elena Romano had written twelve Christmas instructions for her daughter on stationery printed with tiny gold stars.
Gabriel placed the original on his desk the next morning.
Ava sat beside me.
Matteo stood near the window.
Nobody pretended this was breakfast.
Number one:
Make hot chocolate with too many marshmallows.
Ava smiled.
“We do that.”
Number two:
Give something away before opening anything you get.
Number three:
Make your father wear a stupid sweater.
Gabriel looked offended.
Ava pointed.
“We forgot.”
“We did not forget.”
“You wore black.”
“I always wear black.”
“Exactly.”
I almost smiled.
Then number seven.
Visit Bellinis on Christmas Eve when you are seven. Ask Sal whether he ever found Lily.
My hands went cold.
Ava looked at me.
“I didn’t read that part.”
“What?”
She pointed.
“Matteo read it.”
I turned toward him.
His expression did not change.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You took her there because the list told you.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you tell her what to ask?”
Matteo looked at Ava.
“Because I was afraid.”
Ava frowned.
“Of Mr. Bellini?”
“No.”
“Of Lily?”
“No.”
“Then that’s dumb.”
No adult disagreed.
Gabriel tapped the paper.
“Why did Elena leave this with you?”
Matteo answered.
“She gave me the sealed envelope before she died.”
“Not me.”
“No.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“She said you would open it early.”
Ava nodded.
“He would.”
Gabriel looked betrayed by his own daughter.
I looked at the list again.
Number eight:
If Sal says no, go get cannoli and let it go.
Number nine:
If Sal says yes, do not bring Lily home like a stray cat.
I laughed.
Ava stared.
“What?”
“Your mother knew you.”
“She said I bring animals home.”
Gabriel sighed.
“She did.”
The instruction continued.
Tell your father. Let Lily choose.
I stopped laughing.
Let Lily choose.
Elena had understood.
Maybe because foster care teaches you what it means when choices are made around you.
Matteo had broken that.
Then, in the end, he had followed enough of Elena’s instruction to bring Ava near Bellinis and stand back.
“Why?” I asked.
Matteo looked at me.
“Why finally do it?”
He took time.
“Because Ava turned seven.”
“That’s not enough.”
“No.”
He looked at the list.
“I had spent four years telling myself the threat still existed. Maybe it did. Maybe it does.”
“Then?”
“Then I realized I had become the person stopping Elena’s daughter from carrying out Elena’s choice.”
Ava said, “I told him Mom would haunt him.”
Gabriel covered his eyes.
“I did,” she insisted.
Matteo almost smiled.
“She did.”
I stared at the list.
“What are the other numbers?”
Ava leaned over.
Ten:
If Lily wants nothing to do with us, be kind anyway.
Eleven:
If she wants to know me, give her my red journal.
Twelve:
Nobody spends Christmas alone if you can help it.
I had to look away.
Elena had built a path.
Not a command.
A path.
She had no idea whether Sal would find me.
No idea whether I would want them.
No idea whether Ava would understand at seven.
But she left room.
Choice.
Gabriel sat behind his desk.
“I never saw this.”
“No,” Matteo said.
“That was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“You decided I would interfere.”
“Yes.”
“Would I have?”
Matteo looked at him.
“Yes.”
Gabriel did not argue.
Interesting.
Ava swung her legs.
“Are you firing Matteo?”
The room stopped.
Matteo looked at Gabriel.
Gabriel looked at Ava.
“No.”
She relaxed.
Then he added, “But his role changes.”
Ava frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means people can love you and still lose trust.”
That sentence landed.
Matteo looked down.
Gabriel continued.
“He will not control family security alone anymore.”
Ava looked at Matteo.
“Are you sad?”
“Yes.”
“Did you do a bad thing?”
“Yes.”
“Are you still Matteo?”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Children were brutal and merciful in ways adults struggled to be.
Gabriel slid another folder toward me.
“Elena’s trust documents.”
I did not touch them.
“No.”
“You should know what is in them.”
“I don’t want money.”
“I did not say money.”
“That is what trust documents are.”
“Not only.”
I looked at him.
“Explain.”
When Elena died, most of her personal estate went to Ava.
But a separate foundation interest was held in reserve for any verified surviving sibling.
Not enormous compared with Romano wealth.
Still more money than I had seen in my life.
Enough to change everything.
It also carried one board vote at the Romano Community Foundation.
I laughed.
“So someone was afraid I would show up with one vote.”
Gabriel’s face stayed serious.
“One vote could block certain transactions.”
“What transactions?”
Matteo answered.
“Asset transfers.”
I looked at him.
“Specific.”
A file came out.
Four years ago, shortly after Elena died, Gabriel’s uncle Paolo proposed moving several foundation-owned apartment buildings into a redevelopment partnership.
The buildings housed low-income families.
The redevelopment promised higher returns.
Also displacement.
Elena had opposed it.
Her board vote plus a sibling reserve vote would have blocked the transfer automatically.
When Elena died, her vote passed temporarily to Ava’s trust.
The sibling reserve remained dormant unless I was found.
“If I appeared,” I said, “the transfer died.”
“Yes.”
“Did it happen anyway?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Gabriel blocked it.”
I looked at him.
He shrugged slightly.
“I agreed with Elena.”
“So nobody needed to hide me.”
“Not for that deal.”
“Then why threaten Matteo?”
Nobody answered.
Ava looked between us.
“Can I go see Rosa?”
Gabriel nodded.
She hopped down.
Before leaving, she stopped beside me.
“Don’t leave.”
I swallowed.
“I’m not leaving right now.”
She accepted that.
When the door closed, Gabriel said, “There were other matters.”
Of course.
Elena’s reserved sibling status also had standing to request foundation audits.
Access to historical distributions.
Right to challenge conflicts.
Someone had used the foundation for more than charity.
“How much?”
Gabriel looked at Matteo.
“Unknown.”
“Try.”
“Millions.”
I laughed bitterly.
“The first family I might have belongs to a secret financial dispute.”
Gabriel leaned forward.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You are not a dispute.”
“Then stop introducing my sister through documents.”
He stopped.
Good.
I stood.
“I want DNA first.”
“Yes.”
“Then I want Elena’s medical records, foster search file, and the trust explained by a lawyer who does not work for you.”
“Yes.”
“No Romano attorney.”
“Yes.”
“No Matteo filtering.”
“Yes.”
Matteo looked like he deserved that.
“And I want to know who sent the threat.”
Gabriel’s face hardened.
“So do I.”
“No private revenge.”
He held my gaze.
“That is harder.”
“Then say no.”
Silence.
Matteo looked at him.
Gabriel finally said, “No private revenge.”
“Meaning police.”
“Yes.”
“Lawyers.”
“Yes.”
“Records.”
“Yes.”
“No men disappearing.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
The DNA test happened that afternoon.
Not some dramatic home kit.
A lab.
Identity verification.
Chain of custody because the Romano lawyers anticipated future challenges.
Results would take two days even with expedited processing.
Two days.
Ava reacted as if sentenced to prison.
I went back to my apartment that night.
Alone.
By choice.
That mattered.
Gabriel offered security.
I accepted one car outside after seeing the old threat note.
No men in my hallway.
No cameras inside.
Boundaries.
At eleven, I opened Elena’s red journal.
I read more.
She wrote about cancer.
Fear.
Ava.
Gabriel.
Then a page about me.
Sal may have found her.
My whole body shook.
Matteo is checking.
If it’s Lily, I don’t know how to approach without making her feel watched.
I laughed through tears.
Too late.
Next page.
Matteo says Pennsylvania. Wrong girl.
Elena’s handwriting changed.
Smaller.
Tired.
I should be relieved she has a family. Why am I not?
I pressed my fingers to the paper.
She believed the lie.
Then one line:
If I die before meeting her, I hope she never thinks I stopped looking.
I cried until midnight.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
A message.
No text.
Photograph.
Me leaving the DNA clinic.
Time stamp from three hours earlier.
Then another message.
A scan of an old foundation voting chart.
My dormant sibling vote circled in red.
Then words.
SOME FAMILIES ARE SAFER UNFINISHED.
I stared.
The threat was not four years old.
It was alive.
And whoever sent it knew the DNA test had happened before the results were even back.
Before I went to sleep that night, I called Mr. Bellini.
“I found her.”
He was quiet.
“You found your sister?”
“No.”
I looked at Elena’s journal.
“She found me first. Years ago.”
He understood.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not being louder when Matteo said Pennsylvania.”
I leaned against the window.
“You believed someone who sounded certain.”
“Yes.”
“So did Elena.”
Silence.
Then he said, “You know certainty is often just confidence wearing a tie.”
I smiled.
“That sounds like something you say after wine.”
“I am drinking wine.”
“On a work night?”
“I own the restaurant.”
“Fair.”
He asked whether I would come in tomorrow.
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
That was exactly why I wanted to.
The next morning I stood behind the same counter where my life had split open on Christmas Eve and poured coffee for strangers.
Nobody knew I had a biological niece.
Nobody knew men were reviewing foundation bylaws because my DNA existed.
A customer complained his toast was cold.
I replaced it.
May you like
Normal life felt like a handrail.
I held on.
