The air in the small, sun-drenched apartment smelled of toasted bread and cheap lavender detergent—a world away from the suffocating scent of cigars and old stone.
"Mama, my ribbon is crooked!" Elena giggled, squirming as I tried to pull her dark curls into a neat ponytail.
"Stay still, little bird," I whispered, my heart aching with a familiar mix of love and grief.
Elena was seven now, and every time she looked at me, I saw a ghost. She had my eyes, but she had the sharp, high cheekbones of the man who had discarded her before she was even born.
To the world, I was Lucia, a hardworking secretary at a logistics firm. No one knew that seven years ago, I was a captive of the most dangerous clan in the country.
I adjusted the collar of my modest white blouse and checked my reflectio
