Chapter 3 Reunion

Upon descending from the plane in Beverly Hills, California, Lorenzo, smartphone in hand, scrutinized the address sent by his grandfather, his gaze fixed on the glowing screen of his phone. A sense of anticipation lingered as he walked out of the airport, dragging his travel-worn bag behind him. As he emerged from the airport, preparing to hail a taxi, a persistent driver rushed toward him, inquiring, “Where are you headed, Sir?”

Considering the question, Lorenzo pocketed his phone, his voice steady as he responded, “Harmony Heights.”

“Ah, Harmony Heights, we all know the place. Come on, I’ll take you there,” the driver offered with an air of familiarity.

Just as Lorenzo was about to follow the driver, a voice sliced through the air, a warning laden with concern. “If you know what’s good for you, don’t follow that guy!”

Turning toward the source of the cautionary words, Lorenzo met the eyes of a stranger and inquired, “And why not?”

“Many disguised as taxi drivers are out to steal people’s luggage. He’s one of them,” the informant explained.

The taxi driver, offended, retorted, “How can you say that?! That’s blasphemy, and I can sue for that!”

“Go ahead!” the informant challenged.

Caught in the middle of this unexpected confrontation, Lorenzo furrowed his brows in confusion. He studied the stranger who had issued the warning, asking, “I see you’re a taxi driver too. How can I be sure that you’re not a robber as well?”

“Because I’m not,” came the straightforward response.

With a scoff, Lorenzo took control of the situation, dragging his luggage away from the brewing conflict. “Fucking bastards!” he muttered under his breath, choosing a different taxi that eventually transported him to Harmony Heights.

Upon reaching his mother’s residence, he gazed at the sizable structure of the building, a far cry from the grandeur of his mansion in Italy.

Rationalizing that it was merely a temporary residence, he reassured himself, focusing on the sole purpose of his visit: to unveil the mystery shrouding his brother’s death.

Summoning a nod of self-assurance, he approached the entrance, only to become acutely aware of the curious eyes of onlookers who emerged from their homes, regarding him as if he were a captivating spectacle.

Responding with nods and awkward smiles, Lorenzo couldn’t help but overhear snippets of gossip circulating among the intrigued neighbors.

“Wait, isn’t that Noah? The son of Carol who died tragically?” “Yeah, it definitely looks like him. How is he alive and well?”

“He’s also kind of different. More handsome and structured than before. I mean, look at him. Apart from the handsome face, the body structure is different.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Sighing, Lorenzo directed his attention to the door, intending to announce his presence. A couple of brisk knocks echoed, and as the door swung open, it revealed his mother—Carol, a woman of striking beauty approaching her fifties, adorned with short black hair and blue eyes mirroring those of her sons.

Carol's eyes widened in shock, and a surge of fear prompted her to slam the door shut. She appeared utterly bewildered, struggling to comprehend what she had just witnessed.

In a moment of frustration, Lorenzo forcefully banged on the door with his hand. "Come on, Mom, open the door! Have you forgotten you had twins? It's the son you sold out!" His voice resonated with exasperation as he folded his arms, awaiting a response.

Carol’s heart skipped a beat, a cascade of emotions flooding her as those words reached her ears, an overwhelming sensation of everything around her crumbling. Slowly, she opened the door, her eyes filled with disbelief as she gazed at him.

“Li… Liam?” she stammered, her voice tinged with a mixture of shock and hope.

“I’m Lor…” he began and lowered his gaze, knowing that if anyone was to know his Italian name, they'd know who he was with just one search and he wanted to keep his identity unknown. Maintaining a strained smile, he addressed his mother, “Yes, Mom. It’s me, Liam.”

Carol gasped, her hands instinctively covering her mouth in sheer astonishment. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, her disbelief echoing through her words. “Oh my God, you…” In an attempt to reach out, she extended her hand toward his face, but Lorenzo subtly evaded the touch, gently guiding her hand back down.

“I didn't die, Mom. Enough of that,” he said with a forced smile before taking his luggage and entering the house.

Carol let out a sigh, her hand resting against the closed door, caught in the whirlwind of emotions that still seemed surreal. Was this a dream? Her son, standing right in front of her! The notion lingered in her mind, making her question the reality of the moment.

As Lorenzo surveyed her modest living room with an expression that revealed his lack of enthusiasm, Carol felt a multitude of unspoken queries bubbling within her. Yet, she hesitated to voice them, aware of the wounds of the past and her involvement in it.

"Living solo, Mom? No new man in the picture?" Lorenzo inquired, turning to regard his mother with a quizzical eyebrow.

Carol shook her head, her eyes meeting his. "Since your father, I haven't remarried. And I haven't been entirely alone; this house was once filled with the presence of your brother, his wife, and their son, Christopher," she explained, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips as memories resurfaced.

Lorenzo absorbed the revelation with a series of blinks. “Noah was married?” he echoed, seeking clarification.

Carol nodded. “Yes, he was. Aren’t you married, Lorenzo? Approaching your thirties in a year, right?”

“I have so many obligations and marriage was never part of them,” he declared bluntly, his gaze drifting away. “So where are his family? Why aren't they here?” he inquired.

Carol sighed and answered, “Stella’s family never approved of their marriage. Despite that, because she loved your brother, she chose to leave her family and reside here with us. However, after she lost your brother, her family reclaimed her and our grandchild, cutting off any contact between us,” she revealed, the anguish evident in her voice.

Intrigued by the family dynamics, Lorenzo pressed for more details. “Why were they against the marriage?”

He walked toward a shelf and saw some of Noah’s pictures with a woman and a little boy as he listened to his mom’s explanation.

“The Millers, Stella’s family, are a prominent wealthy clan in Beverly Hills. They had aspirations for their daughter to marry into wealth, and unfortunately, we did not fit that mold. Your brother faced a series of setbacks—losing his job, resorting to becoming a delivery driver, and tragically, losing his life,” Carol explained, her head shaking in a mix of grief and frustration.

Lorenzo nodded contemplatively as he processed the shared details. “So, to grasp everything you’ve just revealed, the Millers harbored a deep-seated hatred for him, correct?” he sought clarification.

Carol confirmed with a solemn nod. “Yes,a significant amount. They held an intense animosity toward him, subjecting him to insults and humiliations regularly. Life became increasingly challenging for him simply because he married their daughter. I considered advising them to end the relationship for your brother’s well-being, but circumstances took a different turn when she became pregnant.”

In a moment of introspection, Lorenzo uttered, “l’odio è la spina dorsale dell’omicidio,” expressing his thoughts as if lost in a profound contemplation.

“Huh?” Carol interjected, her expression reflecting confusion.

He eyed his mom before saying, “Hate is the backbone of murder.”

Carol sighed, nodding in a mix of surprise and confusion. “I don’t quite comprehend why you said that, but how about you wait here? I’ll prepare the room you’ll be staying in. Your unexpected arrival has caught me off guard,” she awkwardly suggested, finding it challenging to divert her gaze from her son.

It was like she was seeing a different Noah. For some reason, he was more taller and broader and his voice was deeper and different due to his accent. It made her wonder how his life had been since she gave him out.

As Lorenzo settled onto the couch, diverting his gaze from his mother, a subtle smirk played on his lips, realizing he now possessed a crucial lead.