Page 49 of The Forbidden Secret

“You’re not going to die down here. And they’re not going to find you.”

“I wish you had a chance to meet her and spend some time with her. Beatrice is such a special little girl,” Evelina said, a smile stretching her cheeks as she stared at the ground in front of us. “When I looked into her eyes for the first time, everything wrong I had ever done fell away. My goals and life’s mission shifted. She became the only thing that mattered.”

I could only imagine a little bundle in Evelina’s arms.

“It kills me that I haven’t been able to raise her. A few hours here and there, but… I feel like I’m failing her every day.”

“You could never fail her,” I scolded.

She smiled sadly. “Yet, she has never lived with her own mother. How shitty does that sound?”

I decided that I could talk to her. I had, after all, left her alone to raise a child. The least I could do was talk through the reason I had run. Thewholereason.

“I didn’t leave the apartment because I was upset with you or because I was angry. I didn’t leave it as a way to reject our daughter. I left because the thought of hurting either you or her drove me to a point of desperation. The thought of ever laying a hand on either of you makes me sick, and the thought that I could do it one day—” I cut myself off and shook my head. “I needed to sort through it. I didn’t need you to see the mess.”

“Do you think your father ever had those fears?” she asked.

“God, no,” I scoffed, glancing at her.

She gave me a knowing look. It took me a moment to understand her point—to see where she was going with her words and the intention behind them.

As hard as I tried to consider all the ways she was wrong—the ways she didn’t understand—I struggled to find a good argument.

“I have killed people.”

“Congratulations, you have a single quality that your father had. When it comes to morals and generosity, youfarsurpass him. You can share characteristics with a parent without ever becoming them. Have you met my father?”

“I’ve heard plenty about him,” I grumbled.

“I’m nothing like that man, but he’s still my blood, and I will always share similarities with him. We both eat too fast, and I am good at holding back my frustration until I explode with it. I got that from him, too. But I am not him, just like you are not your dad.” She ran a hand over her arm, and her fingerscame back damp with blood. “Do you think I’d let you near my daughter if I wasn’t sure about you?”

“I’m not good at letting people in.”

“You’re getting better with me.”

I was trying. Trying so damn hard. “Can you tell me about her?”

Evelina’s face lit up. “She looks like you. Uncannily like you, actually. Dark complexion and dark hair. And newborns always have gray-blue eyes, but hers are completely blue. Sky blue. Just like yours.” She paused. “She holds up her head during tummy time, and she is always laughing and giggling. Maggie said she’s the happiest baby, though for the first month, she was really colicky as we found the right formula. I wanted to nurse, but… it wasn’t in the cards given the situation.”

If this was all I got—if these were the only bits of information I would have about my daughter—it would be enough. If I had to give my life to protect them, it would be a death well spent.

“Let’s find a way out of here. For Beatrice.”

Chapter Twenty

Evelina Bianchi

We proceeded carefully down catacombs that neither Zeke nor I had ever explored. I had heard rumors of these underground tunnels, sealed off to the outside world in almost every possible place. But rumor suggested there were some openings, and the entrance to Zeke’s apartment complex only confirmed that.

There were a handful of times when Zeke and I pressed ourselves into small nooks within the wall to hide from passersby, presumedly Clide Newton’s men looking for us. As the minutes turned into hours, my head grew lighter, and I knew I could attribute it to blood loss.

Still, there was seemingly no way out of these tunnels. We found dead ends more often than we found new passages to go through. But the further we walked, the fewer other people we heard. In fact, it had been a half hour since we had heard anybody.

“Do you think we’ll ever find a way out?”

Zeke hesitated. “We will. How are you doing?”

I knew we needed to press forward, but I also felt my strength draining as each moment passed. “I need a break. Idon’t think this cut on my arm has clotted, and it’s making me a little woozy.”

---