I couldn’t stop staring at the photograph.
The woman standing beside my mother looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen her.
Damiano noticed.
“You said you’ve seen her before.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
I closed my eyes, trying to remember.
“My father’s old apartment.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
Damiano’s expression tightened.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“She was in one of the old pictures my father kept.”
“Do you remember her name?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Damiano took out his phone.
“Send the photograph to my security team.”
His mother looked at him.
“Damiano, be careful.”
He glanced at her.
“I will.”
She looked at me.
“I should have told you sooner.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Part of me was angry.
Another part of me understood that
