It couldn't be my parents because they had their own key and, besides, they were celebrating their anniversary by going away for a week to Paris (Horn..., corny bastards.) I slid the glass door open and grabbed the towel to pat my hair so it wasn't too wet. I quickly wrapped the towel around my body and headed downstairs to open the door. I took a deep, nervous breath as I saw who it was. "Are your parents home?" is the very first thing he asks. "You shouldn't be here, Mr. Brooke. You could. "Come in!" Angelina hollered.James, her father, stepped inside. "Hey, angel. Your mother told me that you asked about your adoption today." Why didn't you ever tell me I was adopted?"James sat down on Angelina's bed. "Well, angel, we just figured it was better for you if you didn't know." Who were my parents? Do you know?"James sighed. "I traveled to Italy to meet your parents. Your mother was seventeen. A beautiful young girl, named Bianca de Lucini. She was engaged to the son of a Mafia. More

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