Chapter 6 - MORETTI BLOOD
“No.”
It was the only word I had left.
Luca stood across from me in complete silence.
Marco had moved toward the door, giving us distance.
My daughter slept between us.
“No.”
I said it again.
“I understand.”
“No, you do not.”
“You are right.”
I laughed once.
Sharp.
Angry.
“You always do that.”
“What?”
“Agree when someone is furious with you.”
“It prevents useless arguments.”
“It is extremely irritating.”
“I have been told.”
I looked at him.
My possible brother.
The thought was absurd.
Luca Moretti was thirteen years older than me.
Powerful.
Controlled.
A man surrounded by security and whispered rumors.
I grew up above a laundromat with a mother who clipped grocery coupons and worked two jobs.
“We are not siblings.”
“Possibly half-siblings.”
“That does not improve it.”
“No.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because I promised.”
The answer disarmed me.
I looked away.
Outside the window, Chicago stretched beneath a gray afternoon sky.
Cars moved.
People hurried.
Somewhere below us, Derek was being questioned.
And somehow he had become only the second most shocking thing about my day.
“My mother never mentioned Vittorio.”
“She may have had reasons.”
“Such as?”
“My father was married.”
I looked back.
“To your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Great.”
“Emma—”
“So if this is true, my mother had an affair with a married man.”
“We do not know that.”
“How else does pregnancy work in the Moretti family?”
Marco coughed.
Again.
I pointed at him.
“You. Stop doing that.”
“Sorry.”
He did not sound sorry.
Luca rubbed his forehead.
“My parents separated privately for almost two years.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“It is also true.”
“Did your mother know about Katherine?”
“I do not know.”
“Did Matteo?”
Luca’s face changed.
“Yes.”
I stared.
“That is why he approached me.”
“We believe so.”
“At the charity event?”
“Yes.”
“He did not meet me by accident.”
“No.”
My throat tightened.
The friendly stranger who had offered me a ride had known exactly who I was.
“Did he tell you he was going to find me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he knew I would stop him.”
“Why?”
Luca looked toward the baby.
“My father’s death had left the family unstable. If you were his daughter, your existence mattered.”
“To whom?”
“People who care about inheritance.”
I almost laughed.
“I inherited six thousand dollars in credit-card debt when my mother died.”
“Vittorio Moretti’s estate is different.”
“How different?”
Marco looked at the floor.
That was enough.
“I do not want it.”
“You do not know what it is.”
“I do not care.”
“You may.”
“I will not.”
Luca’s voice remained calm.
“Money is rarely dangerous because people want it. It is dangerous because other people believe you might.”
That silenced me.
“Someone knew who I was before I did.”
“Yes.”
“The photographs.”
“Yes.”
“They were watching me because of my father.”
“Possibly.”
“And Derek?”
“We need to know when he learned.”
My stomach turned.
“What if he knew before we met?”
Luca did not answer.
That was answer enough.
I looked at my daughter.
Our entire relationship replayed differently.
Derek bumping into me at a coffee shop.
His charming apology.
Buying another drink.
Asking for my number.
Was it random?
Or had he already seen my photograph?
I felt physically ill.
“I want a DNA test.”
Luca nodded.
“Immediately.”
“And it goes through the police.”
“Yes.”
“And an independent lab.”
“Yes.”
“And you do not touch the results before I do.”
That almost offended him.
“Agreed.”
“Good.”
Marco’s phone rang.
He checked it.
“Locker warrant approved.”
Luca’s attention sharpened.
“When?”
“Police are heading there now.”
I looked at him.
“You promised not to go.”
“Yes.”
“And you are not going.”
“No.”
He sounded miserable.
I almost smiled.
Detective Harris returned twenty minutes later.
He brought news.
Derek had requested an attorney.
Brittany had disappeared.
“What do you mean disappeared?” I asked.
“She left the hospital before officers arrived.”
“You have cameras.”
“We are tracking her vehicle.”
“Where did she go?”
“We do not know yet.”
My daughter woke.
I held her while Harris explained that the nurse who had taken the duplicate bracelet was cooperating.
She claimed Derek told her he needed the schedule because he planned a private paternity sample without my knowledge.
“How?”
“He wanted a cheek swab.”
“That does not explain the false imaging order.”
“No.”
“What did he say about that?”
“He denies creating it.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Parts of his story are inconsistent.”
“That means no.”
Harris almost smiled.
“Yes.”
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“What?”
He listened.
“Do not touch anything.”
Luca stood.
“Locker?”
Harris put the phone on speaker.
Alvarez’s voice came through.
“We opened 317.”
“What is inside?” I asked.
“Boxes.”
“How many?”
“Five.”
“What kind?”
“Financial records. Photographs. Audio tapes. Old hard drives.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“Matteo’s archive.”
“Looks like it.”
“What else?”
Alvarez went quiet.
“What?”
“Emma, there is a file with your name on it.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Open it.”
“Evidence tech is photographing first.”
“Open it.”
Harris nodded to the phone.
“Do it.”
Paper rustled.
Alvarez breathed out.
“Birth records.”
My pulse thundered.
“What do they say?”
“Katherine Lawson. Female infant. Emma Grace.”
“And father?”
A pause.
“Blank.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
“Anything else?”
“There is a handwritten note attached.”
“Read it.”
Another pause.
“DNA confirmed.”
My lungs emptied.
“Confirmed what?”
“Does not say.”
Luca closed his eyes.
I knew.
We all knew.
But I still needed proof.
“What else?”
Alvarez continued searching.
“There is a letter addressed to Matteo.”
“From who?”
“Initials V.M.”
Vittorio Moretti.
Luca stepped forward.
“Read it.”
Harris shook his head.
“Evidence first.”
My patience broke.
“That letter is about me.”
“We do this correctly.”
I knew he was right.
I hated him for being right.
Twenty minutes later, Alvarez called again after the letter was documented.
Her voice was quieter.
“I can read portions.”
I held my daughter closer.
“Do it.”
Alvarez began.
“Matteo. If you are reading this, I did not have the courage to fix what I broke.”
My eyes burned.
“Katherine never asked me for money. She asked me for distance. She believed Emma would be safer without my name.”
I stopped breathing.
“She was right.”
Luca looked away.
Alvarez continued.
“But safety has become impossible. Someone accessed the private trust documents. They know there is another heir.”
My stomach dropped.
Another heir.
Me.
“I need you to find Emma without bringing her into the family publicly.”
I covered my mouth.
“Do not tell Luca unless necessary. He will try to protect her, and protection from a Moretti often looks too much like a cage.”
Despite everything, Marco nearly smiled.
Luca glared at nobody.
Alvarez continued.
“If Emma ever learns the truth, tell her this: Katherine was the bravest woman I ever knew, and the greatest shame of my life is that my name made her afraid for our daughter.”
My tears finally came.
Silent.
Hot.
I looked at my baby.
My mother had known.
She had carried this alone.
Just as I thought I would.
Alvarez stopped.
“There is more.”
“What?”
“Vittorio mentions the trust.”
“How much?”
Harris asked.
Alvarez exhaled.
“Current estimated value would be approximately one hundred and eighty million dollars.”
I stared at the phone.
Nothing about that number felt real.
“One hundred and eighty…”
“Million.”
I laughed.
Then cried harder.
“I do not want it.”
Luca said softly, “I know.”
Harris’s phone beeped.
Another call.
He looked at the screen.
“Alvarez?”
“No.”
He answered.
Listened.
His face hardened.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“We are coming.”
He hung up.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Brittany’s car was found.”
“Where?”
“Near the river.”
My stomach dropped.
“Is she there?”
“No.”
“What did they find?”
Harris looked at Luca.
Then me.
“Blood in the driver’s seat.”
I froze.
“And a note.”
“What note?”
“It was addressed to you.”
“Me?”
He nodded.
“What does it say?”
Harris hesitated.
Then read:
Emma, Derek lied to both of us. If you want your daughter to live, do not let Luca open the final box in Locker 317.
My eyes lifted slowly to Luca.
The room went silent.
Then his phone rang.
Marco answered his own at the same instant.
Both men changed.
“What?” I demanded.
Marco looked toward the hallway.
“Police just opened the fifth box.”
My heart stopped.
“And?”
May you like
He swallowed.
“It was empty.”
