Chapter 3 - The Birth Certificate
I didn't make it upstairs.
Neither did Luca.
Neither did anyone.
Because the words had detonated in the room.
Your name was never Luca Moretti.
Luca stared at Vanessa.
“What was it?”
She shook her head.
“You don't want to know.”
“I just asked.”
“It changes everything.”
“Then tell me.”
Vanessa looked at Margaret.
Margaret nodded slowly.
“His name was Anthony Gabriel Bellini.”
The silence that followed was almost unbearable.
Luca took one step backward.
“Bellini?”
Vanessa nodded.
“You're my cousin?”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“My father?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
She started crying.
“Your mother was a Bellini.”
Luca stared.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did she marry a Moretti?”
“Because she was trying to escape.”
Margaret spoke softly.
“She fell in love with your father before she learned what he really was.”
Luca looked at the floor.
“All these years.”
He laughed bitterly.
“My enemy's family.”
Vanessa nodded.
“Your mother's family was one of the oldest crime families in Chicago.”
“And my father?”
“Your father was their rival.”
“Then why was I raised by him?”
“Because he won.”
The sentence sounded like a confession.
Luca turned toward Margaret.
“You said you worked for my mother.”
“I did.”
“Did she know what they were planning?”
“She knew.”
“Who was planning?”
“Your father.”
His expression hardened.
“What did he plan?”
“To use you.”
“How?”
“He wanted the Bellini inheritance.”
“I was six.”
“You were the heir.”
“Why?”
“Because your grandmother's trust passed through your mother to you.”
Luca looked at Vanessa.
“And you?”
“I was never supposed to inherit anything.”
“Then why are you marrying me?”
Vanessa broke down.
“My mother wanted the trust.”
“And you?”
“I wanted you.”
He stared.
“Do you love me?”
She wiped her face.
“Yes.”
“Or the inheritance?”
“I don't know anymore.”
Luca looked away.
I had worked for him for almost two years.
I'd seen him threaten men.
I'd seen him break negotiations with a glance.
I'd seen him command an entire room without raising his voice.
I'd never seen him look lost.
But now he did.
I stepped closer.
“Mr. Moretti.”
He turned.
“You don't have to decide everything tonight.”
His eyes held mine.
“I don't know who I am.”
“You're still Luca.”
“But maybe that name isn't mine.”
“Names can change.”
He stared.
“People can too.”
Something softened.
Then Daniel entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The archives were breached.”
“Which ones?”
“Family records.”
Luca's face tightened.
“Who accessed them?”
“We don't know.”
“What's missing?”
Daniel handed him a folder.
“Your birth certificate.”
Luca looked at Vanessa.
She shook her head.
“I didn't take it.”
“I didn't say you did.”
He turned to Daniel.
“What else?”
“The original marriage certificate of Elena Bellini and Richard Moretti.”
Luca frowned.
“My father and mother were married.”
“Yes.”
“But the record was sealed.”
“Sealed by whom?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Judge Nathaniel Crowe.”
Luca recognized the name.
“The judge who handled the estate.”
“Exactly.”
I remembered something.
“Sir.”
He looked at me.
“When I was cleaning the library last month, I found a hidden panel.”
“Where?”
“In the old fireplace.”
We moved there.
Behind the panel was a metal box.
Inside were documents.
A passport.
A hospital bracelet.
A photograph.
And a handwritten letter.
To my son Anthony,
If they tell you I abandoned you, don't believe them.
I tried to come back.
They would not let me.
Your father says he saved you.
He did not.
He saved the empire.
Your mother.
Luca read it twice.
Then handed it to me.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
His mother.
The date was eighteen months after the funeral.
She had been alive.
“She was trying to reach me.”
“Yes.”
“Why couldn't she?”
The answer came from the back of the room.
“Because I stopped her.”
Everyone turned.
Gerald Moretti.
Luca's father's old business partner.
He stood in the doorway.
Older.
Walking with a cane.
Luca raised his weapon.
“You have five seconds.”
Gerald lifted both hands.
“I've waited thirty years for this.”
“Talk.”
“Your father didn't kill your mother.”
Luca froze.
“What?”
“Your mother wasn't murdered.”
“What are you saying?”
“She disappeared by choice.”
Margaret stared at him.
“No.”
Gerald nodded.
“She knew the Bellinis were coming for her.”
“She wouldn't leave her son.”
“She did.”
“Why?”
“To save him.”
Luca stepped closer.
“From whom?”
“From the person who actually wanted you dead.”
“Who?”
Gerald looked toward Vanessa.
She stepped backward.
“My mother.”
Luca's face went cold.
“Isabella.”
Vanessa nodded.
“She ordered the kidnapping.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother had the Bellini trust.”
“And I inherited it.”
“Yes.”
“So my father took me to protect me?”
“Yes.”
“But he changed my name.”
“To keep Isabella from finding you.”
“Then why hide my mother?”
“Because Isabella controlled the police, the courts, and half the harbor.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“And Vanessa?”
“She was trained to find you.”
Vanessa started crying.
“I was a child.”
“You were six years old.”
Luca stared.
“I remember you.”
Vanessa looked stunned.
“You used to visit the kitchen.”
“You called me Victoria.”
She nodded.
“You gave me a red toy car.”
“I did.”
“You knew who I was.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
She whispered,
“Because my mother told me if I did, she'd kill Margaret.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
Luca looked at her.
“She protected you too.”
Margaret nodded.
“My mother kept me alive because she believed I could eventually help you.”
The room fell silent.
Then Gerald spoke again.
“There's one thing you still don't know.”
“What?”
“Your father wasn't the one who changed your name.”
Luca looked at him.
“Who was?”
Gerald pointed toward the photograph.
“Your mother.”
Luca's breath caught.
“She chose Luca.”
“Why?”
“Because it was the name of the little boy who died.”
“Who was he?”
Gerald hesitated.
“The son of her closest friend.”
I stared.
“Why use his name?”
“So that nobody would search for Anthony.”
Luca sat down.
Everything he believed about his father was shifting.
Maybe his father had lied.
Maybe he'd also protected him.
Maybe his mother had vanished to keep him alive.
And maybe Vanessa wasn't the villain he'd assumed.
But then he noticed something.
The date on the letter.
It was written after Isabella Bellini had supposedly died.
Luca looked at Gerald.
“Isabella was dead.”
Gerald shook his head.
“No.”
“Then why was there a funeral?”
“Because your grandmother died.”
“What?”
“Isabella Bellini faked her own death.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“She never died.”
A phone rang.
Daniel answered.
His face changed.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The woman who entered the mansion tonight wasn't alone.”
“Who was with her?”
Daniel looked toward me.
“A man.”
“What man?”
“Someone matching the description of Isabella Bellini's former driver.”
Luca stood.
“Where?”
“Outside.”
We rushed to the entrance.
The gates were open.
A black sedan waited across the street.
Then a window lowered.
An elderly woman looked out.
Even from a distance, I could see her smile.
Vanessa whispered,
“Mother.”
The woman raised one hand.
Then held up a photograph.
The same little boy.
Anthony.
May you like
And beneath it, written in red:
Bring me my son.
