Chapter 8 - THE SON BIANCA HID
Salvatore survived.
That was the bad news.
The bullet had shattered his shoulder instead of hitting his chest.
Damian considered that a failure.
I considered it useful.
Dead men could not answer questions.
By sunrise, St. Catherine’s was surrounded by police, federal agents, emergency workers, and enough media vehicles to turn the empty road into a parking lot.
Nobody publicly mentioned Damian’s involvement.
That was not an accident.
Damian had people.
People had favors.
Favors built silence.
But the children inside St. Catherine’s could not remain silent.
Seventeen minors were recovered.
Some had been illegally moved through adoption networks.
Others had been used as leverage in custody battles involving powerful families.
Several were still unidentified.
The story exploded nationally before breakfast.
I sat beside Leah in a private room at Damian’s home while a doctor examined her.
She had bruising on one wrist.
Nothing worse.
Physically.
Emotionally was different.
She refused to let either Damian or me leave her sight.
When Damian walked toward the door, she cried.
When I stood to get water, she reached for me.
So we stayed.
Three people squeezed around a child’s bed.
A family created by betrayal.
After the doctor left, Leah fell asleep between us.
Damian stared at her.
“She called me Dada.”
I smiled despite everything.
“She did.”
He looked almost embarrassed by how much it mattered.
“I’ve waited two years.”
“I know.”
His eyes moved toward mine.
“You waited longer.”
The truth settled between us.
“I didn’t know I was waiting.”
He looked down.
“I don’t know what happens now.”
“Neither do I.”
“She’s biologically ours.”
“Yes.”
“I raised her.”
“Yes.”
“You’re her mother.”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
“And Gabriel?”
I looked toward the doorway.
“He’s complicated.”
“That is a polite word.”
“He saved her and destroyed me.”
Damian nodded.
“I understand that kind of person.”
I suspected he did.
A knock came.
Thomas entered with two guards.
His hands were not restrained, which meant Damian had temporarily decided not to kill him.
Progress.
“We found something.”
He placed a sealed envelope on the table.
“Inside St. Catherine’s?”
“Yes.”
Damian opened it.
Documents.
A photograph.
He went still.
I leaned closer.
Bianca stood beside a small boy.
He looked four.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
On the back was written:
MATEO — AGE FOUR.
“Her son,” I whispered.
Damian stared at the photograph.
“She never told me.”
Thomas looked toward him.
“She believed telling you would put him in danger.”
“Where is he?”
“We don’t know.”
Damian stood.
“You said Bianca had a son.”
“She did.”
“You know his name.”
“Yes.”
“You know his age.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know where he is.”
Thomas hesitated.
“I knew where he was.”
Damian grabbed him.
“Where?”
“Arizona.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Who had him?”
“A foster family using another name.”
“Why?”
Thomas swallowed.
“Bianca placed him there before she returned for Leah.”
I stared.
“She knew she might die.”
“Yes.”
Damian released him.
“Who is the father?”
Thomas looked uncomfortable.
“Anthony.”
The room seemed to freeze.
Damian stared.
“My security chief?”
“Yes.”
“The man who helped Salvatore kidnap Leah?”
“Yes.”
“The man who shot Bianca?”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
“But Salvatore said—”
“Anthony arranged the shooter.”
Damian turned away.
I saw his hands clench.
“Bianca loved him?”
“Yes.”
“For years.”
Damian laughed bitterly.
“My sister had a son with the man who later betrayed her.”
Thomas looked down.
“She discovered Anthony worked for Salvatore after Mateo was born.”
“So she hid the boy.”
“Yes.”
“And Anthony never found him?”
“We don’t think so.”
Damian looked at the photo again.
“Then we find him first.”
Thomas hesitated.
“There’s another issue.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“The trust documents identify Bianca’s lawful descendant through a blood record.”
“So?”
“Someone accessed that record six hours ago.”
Damian’s expression hardened.
“Who?”
Thomas handed him a printout.
ANTHONY VALE.
“He’s awake?” I asked.
A guard answered.
“He escaped during transfer.”
Damian closed his eyes briefly.
Anthony was free.
And he knew where to find the record connected to his son.
“What record?” I asked.
Thomas answered.
“A sealed birth record held by a private attorney in Phoenix.”
“When was it accessed?”
“Just after dawn.”
Damian moved immediately.
“Prepare the plane.”
I stood too.
He looked at me.
“You stay with Leah.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“I’m not leaving her.”
“Exactly. Stay here.”
I looked down at my sleeping daughter.
For once, Damian was right.
He stepped closer.
“I’ll find Mateo.”
I nodded.
Then Leah woke.
She looked at Damian.
“Dada go?”
He froze.
“Yes.”
“Come back.”
His eyes softened.
“I will.”
She reached toward him.
He kissed her forehead.
Then she pointed toward me.
“Mama stay.”
“I’m staying.”
Leah settled.
Damian walked out.
An hour later, I received a visitor I did not expect.
Gabriel.
His shoulder was in a sling.
Two guards remained outside.
He stood in the doorway.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
I looked at him.
“What do you want?”
“To tell you something before Damian finds Mateo.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Anthony isn’t going after the boy because of money.”
“Then why?”
Gabriel’s face became serious.
“Because Mateo saw Bianca die.”
I stared.
“He was there?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Bianca called me from the road before she reached Damian.”
My pulse quickened.
“What did she say?”
“That Mateo witnessed Anthony meeting with the shooter.”
“Then why didn’t she take Mateo with her?”
“She believed Salvatore knew about Leah but not Mateo.”
I covered my mouth.
“She left her son behind to save him.”
“Yes.”
A terrible understanding arrived.
“And if Anthony finds him—”
“He’ll kill the only witness who can connect him directly to Bianca’s murder.”
I reached for my phone.
“We need to warn Damian.”
Gabriel caught my wrist.
“Not by phone.”
I pulled away.
“Why?”
“Because Anthony spent seven years building Damian’s security system.”
My blood turned cold.
“He can listen.”
“Yes.”
“Then how do we warn him?”
Gabriel looked toward the window.
“We don’t.”
“What?”
“We warn Mateo.”
“How?”
Gabriel took out a small piece of paper.
An address.
Phoenix.
“I found the family.”
I stared at him.
“You knew?”
“I found them months ago.”
“You said you didn’t know where he was.”
“I lied.”
Of course he had.
“Why?”
“Because if Damian knew, he would have gone immediately.”
“And?”
“And Anthony would have followed.”
I looked at the address.
“Why give it to me?”
Gabriel’s expression became strangely sad.
“Because Damian will protect his nephew.”
He looked at Leah.
“But you understand what it means to lose a child.”
I hated him.
Part of me might always hate him.
But he was right.
“What do you expect me to do?”
“Call the foster mother.”
I took the paper.
Then the house alarm sounded.
I nearly screamed.
Guards rushed past the door.
One entered.
“Mrs. Russo, move away from the window.”
“What happened?”
“Vehicle at the south gate.”
“Who?”
The guard hesitated.
Then his radio crackled.
A woman’s voice came through.
“She says her name is Sofia Russo.”
My heart stopped.
I looked at Gabriel.
His face turned white.
Because Sofia Russo was the name my daughter had been given at birth.
Leah sat beside me.
Two years old.
May you like
Alive.
So who was the woman at the gate claiming to be Sofia Russo?
