The next day, I walked into the garage like a zombie, pushing Elio's stroller. Chris, who had been working on a car, straightened and froze, his gaze shifting from me to the stroller. It was the first time I had come back to work since Alma's death. I had to, otherwise, I would never manage to resume anything resembling a normal life.
"No comments," I grumbled when he opened his mouth, dropping my things in the corner we used as a locker room. Heavy footsteps echoed upstairs before rushing down.
"Was that Sanaa's voice?" Stefano's voice rang out behind me, followed by Fabiano's grunt as he crashed into a tool cart. Elio let out an excited squeal at the sight of the three men, clearly recognizing them. After his birth, Alma had brought him to the garage several times. We had spent holidays together, evenings together, while she waited for me to finish work.
"It's Elio!" Fabi exclaimed, hurrying to the stroller before unbuckling the little one and lifting him into his arms. The others joined him as I slipped into my denim overalls over my turtleneck and tied my hair into a half bun.
I joined them just as Miguel came down, grumbling about his leg. His gaze lingered first on Elio, then on me as he approached. The last time I had seen them had been at Alma's funeral.
"You look like hell," he commented, crossing his arms before turning to Elio, now perched in his nephew's arms. "And what about this one? Your new apprentice?"
I sighed, closing my eyes to hold back any sharp reply before moving toward my workstation and pulling on my gloves.
"He's just here for today. He's going back to daycare tomorrow. I'll take him in the morning, his teacher mentioned some kind of adjustment period or whatever," I explained, stepping toward a new car they had received that morning. Stefano had left me a brief report to keep me updated on everything. "So I'll be absent tomorrow morning," I added, popping the hood as Miguel grumbled behind me, but said nothing more before heading toward the shop front.
"You should've taken a few more days," Chris said, handing me my headlamp so I could better see under the hood. "Miguel acts like a grump, but he was the most worried out of all of us." I didn't reply. I knew how that old man worked. He wouldn't have said anything if I had taken more time, but I couldn't. Otherwise, I would have gone insane in that apartment.
"It'll be fine," I said, repeating the words Mrs. Taylor had told me several times the day before. Yes. Everything would work out.
A few days later, while I was working, Miguel suddenly called me from the front, announcing a visitor. A visitor?vI wiped my hands and joined him, closing the door to the workshop behind me. My gaze first landed on Miguel behind the counter, glued to his phone, then on a second man in a suit standing nearby, a briefcase in hand.
"Miss Amrani?" the man called, and I nodded, not recognizing him. "I am Mr Muller, the lawyer of the late Miss Hagen," he introduced himself, extending his hand. I blinked, processing his words. Alma's lawyer? I finally shook his hand, and he gave me a polite smile. "Is there somewhere we could talk?" he asked, glancing around.
"Talk about what?" I asked, confused. He didn't answer, casting a quick look toward Miguel, who still appeared focused on his phone, but I knew he was listening.
"I'm borrowing your office," I informed him. He merely grunted. I motioned for the lawyer to follow me and led him through the workshop, then upstairs to Miguel's office. I closed the door behind us and sat in one of the armchairs facing the desk, gesturing for him to take the other. He did, placing his briefcase on the small table between us before opening it and pulling out several documents.
"I had trouble finding you, Mrs. Amrani. Strangely, most of the information concerning you is nearly sealed," he began, sorting through his files. "On second thought, it's not surprising, considering you have a second name." I froze.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze from his briefcase to his face. Our eyes met, and I watched him go pale as a hundred thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to understand.
"I—I don't know your second name, Miss Amrani. Miss Hagen only informed me that such a name existed, it was necessary for the will," he explained, swallowing nervously. I didn't react. Seeing my silence, he continued, and I straightened slightly understanding what he just said.
"The will?" I repeated.
He adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat, and handed me a sealed envelope, which I took, confused.
"Inside, you'll find a copy of Miss Hagen's will, along with two letters, one addressed to you, the other to her son," he said. I looked up at him again. Nothing made sense. When had Alma done all this? Written letters? And why the hell had she said my real name, the one I had hidden since I was nine?
"Wait—wait," I interrupted, raising my hand. "When did Alma… do all of this?"
"Shortly after giving birth," Mr Muller replied after a moment. "She told me she didn't want her son to grow up in difficult conditions like she did." I inhaled slowly, lowering my gaze back to the envelope. Oh, Alma.
"I will now explain the will," he said, pulling out what must have been the original. I dragged a trembling hand over my face, trying to focus. "To begin with, Miss Hagen addressed the custody of her son in the event of her death." Custody of Elio? Oh. Had she entrusted him to someone else? I didn't know anyone else close to her. Maybe there was someone more suited to raise him.
"Miss Hagen has designated you as the legal guardian of Elio Hagen, Miss Amrani." And to my own surprise, I released the breath I had been holding, a quiet sigh of relief. It was me. I would raise Elio. The last piece of Alma would stay with me. "You will therefore be responsible for Elio Hagen until he reaches adulthood. You are responsible for his well-being, his education, and his protection, just as a parent would be. If you refuse, the child may be placed—"
"No. I accept," I cut him off, leaning forward. He nodded.
"Secondly, Miss Hagen has divided her estate between her son and yourself, naming you a legal heir." I frowned. A division of her estate?
"She bequeathed sixty-five percent of her remaining assets, including sixty-five percent of her real estate, to her son, Elio Hagen. A share you will manage until he reaches adulthood," he read. "The remaining thirty-five percent belongs to you, which, including bank balances, company shares, investments, and real estate, amounts to an inheritance of forty-four million eight hundred thousand dollars." I swallowed. Forty… million?
"Of course, this amount will continue to fluctuate due to investments and rental income, which will be transferred to you monthly," he added with a polite smile, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. My properties? I shook my head, unable to believe it.
"I… I can't," I finally said, dragging a hand over my face as I set the envelope on Miguel's desk. "It's too much. And Alma… she barely got to enjoy any of that money." Guilt crushed me. It felt like I was stealing my friend's life, her son, her money. The lawyer looked at me, puzzled. It wasn't often people refused millions.
"Well… if you refuse the inheritance, I'm afraid you won't be able to keep Elio, Miss Amrani." I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Miss Hagen made it a condition. If you refuse the inheritance, Elio Hagen will be placed under state care." I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back. Alma. She knew me so well. Better than I knew myself. "Will you refuse?" he asked.
Refuse? And leave Elio to an uncertain future? Let people like Sarah get their hands on him, use him in their twisted games? No.
"No," I said. "No. I accept custody of Elio and the inheritance Alma left me." He nodded and rummaged through his briefcase again before pulling out a small envelope sealed with wax.
"Inside this sealed envelope is your second name, written by Miss Hagen," he explained as I took it. "An identical sealed envelope is kept in my office, secured in a safe." I ran my thumb over the red wax.
"If, in the future, you need to use this name, I will be able to confirm your identity. I would therefore like you to open it and confirm it is indeed yours." I nodded, breaking the seal with a quiet sigh.
I pulled out the small card and immediately recognized Alma's handwriting, those rounded letters, that slight slant, the careful dot she always placed. And I recognized the name. The one I had carried from my first breath. The one I had worn throughout my childhood. The one that was no longer mine. A person I was no longer.
"Yes. I confirm," I said flatly, slipping the paper back into the envelope.
And later, after the lawyer left, I burned it. Burned every trace of a version of myself that no longer existed. I was Sanaa.
Just Sanaa.