Chapter 4 - The Replacement Heir
The phrase "replacement heir" had haunted me since the moment Lucia said it.
My son was alive.
But someone had created another plan.
A plan that required him dead.
A plan that required Matteo on the throne.
And a plan that required Valentina silent.
We returned to the mansion under heavy protection.
Lucia came with us.
She was twelve years old, angry, exhausted, and far too familiar with secrets no child should ever have known.
She refused to leave my side.
Not because she trusted me.
Because she trusted me more than the people who had raised her.
I placed my son in the private nursery.
Then I called Valentina into the library.
She sat opposite me.
Lucia stood near the window.
Matteo remained under guard.
“Talk.”
Valentina cried quietly.
“I never wanted this.”
“What did you want?”
“A family.”
“You had one.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you let them steal our son?”
She closed her eyes.
“Because Matteo told me your father would kill him.”
“Who?”
“Your son.”
“He wasn't even born.”
“He was already planning.”
“When?”
“The day we learned I was pregnant.”
I stared.
“What did he say?”
“He said an heir changes everything.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“He said if you had a son, you would stop listening to everyone around you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So he decided to remove my child.”
“Yes.”
“And you agreed?”
“At first.”
The admission hurt more than I expected.
“You agreed.”
“I thought there was no choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
She looked at Lucia.
“I was afraid.”
“Of my father?”
“Yes.”
“And Matteo?”
“Yes.”
“Why him?”
“Because he was the only person who could reach me without raising suspicion.”
I stood.
“So Matteo convinced you.”
“He said the baby would be declared dead but secretly protected.”
“Where?”
“A private safehouse.”
“Instead?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
Valentina's voice broke.
“They told me he died.”
“Who?”
“Doctor Hale.”
I turned.
The hospital director had vanished from the mansion twenty minutes earlier.
Enzo entered the room.
“He's gone.”
“Find him.”
“We're trying.”
I looked at Valentina.
“You were manipulated.”
“Yes.”
“But you still signed the hospital documents.”
She flinched.
“Yes.”
“You still lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“And you still sat beside me at the funeral.”
She began sobbing.
“Yes.”
I felt nothing.
Not anger.
Not forgiveness.
Just emptiness.
Then Sophia appeared at the doorway.
She held Bruno, the old house dog, and a small notebook.
“I found this too.”
I took it.
“What is it?”
“Mom says it belonged to the previous housekeeper.”
I opened it.
Pages of handwritten notes.
Deliveries.
Names.
Times.
Hospital transfers.
One entry made my blood run cold.
THURSDAY — BABY TRANSFER — MORETTI HEIR.
Underneath:
CHANGE IDENTIFICATION.
And below that:
MATTEO PRESENT.
I looked at my brother.
He whispered:
“I never saw that.”
I threw the notebook at him.
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“So you knew.”
“I knew there was a transfer.”
“You knew the baby was being moved.”
“I thought it was a protected transfer.”
“With no parents present?”
He lowered his head.
I turned to Lucia.
“How did you escape?”
She looked at the floor.
“I didn't.”
“What do you mean?”
“They let me leave.”
“Who?”
“My grandfather.”
The room went silent.
“Your grandfather?”
“My mother's father.”
“What was his name?”
She hesitated.
“Gabriel Varela.”
I knew the name.
A former accountant in my father's organization.
Presumed dead eleven years ago.
Another ghost.
“How is he alive?”
Lucia shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That my grandfather hid me because your father wanted me as leverage.”
“Why return now?”
“Because he was dying.”
“Where is he?”
“He gave me a package.”
“What package?”
She looked at me.
“It contains the proof your father is alive.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Where?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
She hesitated.
“Inside your house.”
I looked around.
She smiled faintly.
“He knew you would search the city.”
“Not here.”
“Exactly.”
We searched the mansion from top to bottom.
Nothing.
Finally Sophia noticed something.
The old clock in the entrance hall.
“Does that ever work?”
“No,” I said.
She touched it.
The face moved.
Behind it was a compartment.
Inside was a metal box.
Lucia opened it.
A drive.
Three passports.
And one photograph.
My father.
Alive.
Taken six months ago.
He stood beside a younger woman.
Valentina.
My stomach turned.
There was handwriting on the back.
SHE AGREED TO GIVE HIM THE HEIR.
I looked at my wife.
She shook her head.
“I didn't know he was alive.”
“Then why are you in the photograph?”
“I don't know.”
Lucia pointed to the passports.
They were all under false names.
One belonged to Matteo.
One to Valentina.
And one to a woman named Elena Varela.
The fourth document was different.
A birth certificate.
For a child named Lucia Moretti.
Father: Alessandro Moretti.
Mother: Valentina Moretti.
I stared.
“What is this?”
Lucia looked at me.
“I don't know.”
Valentina went pale.
“I didn't sign that.”
Matteo stared at the paper.
“This is why your father kept her hidden.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because if Lucia were recognized as a Moretti, she would have legal rights.”
“To what?”
“The inheritance.”
The room spun.
“She was the first heir.”
Lucia nodded.
“My father told me.”
I stared at her.
“You are my niece.”
“Yes.”
“And your mother?”
“Elena.”
“And the dead woman?”
“My mother.”
I looked at Valentina.
“This makes no sense.”
Lucia whispered:
“Your father had more than one family.”
I closed my eyes.
The empire I inherited was beginning to look like a graveyard of secrets.
Then Enzo rushed inside.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found Dr. Hale.”
“Where?”
“At the old chapel.”
“Alive?”
“No.”
He placed a photograph on the table.
Hale had been killed.
And beside his body was another message.
THE HEIR LIVES.
UNDERGROUND.
Matteo read it.
Then he looked at me.
“There is an underground nursery.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“Below the old Moretti estate.”
“My father’s house?”
“Yes.”
“What's there?”
Matteo swallowed.
“Where they kept Lucia.”
I grabbed my coat.
“Then that's where my son is.”
Lucia stepped forward.
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
“He's my cousin.”
I looked at her.
She corrected herself.
“He's my family.”
That word mattered.
Family.
The same word that had been used to justify every betrayal.
This time, I decided to use it for something else.
Protection.
We drove through the night.
When we reached the abandoned estate, the front door was unlocked.
A child's lullaby played from inside.
I froze.
It was the song my mother used to sing to me.
Then from somewhere beneath the floor, I heard a baby cry.
I looked at Matteo.
May you like
He whispered:
“They're waiting for you.”
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