Chapter 6 - THE DNA TESTDr. Vale turned the east study into a war room.
Blood samples were taken at three in the morning beneath a chandelier that probably cost more than the apartment building where I lived. Damian gave his without blinking. I gave mine with Leah sitting in my lap, one hand wrapped around my finger. Leah cried only when the needle came near me.
Not when it touched her.
Me.
“Mama hurt,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes.
Every word was a gift.
Every word was a knife.
Dr. Vale labeled the samples himself.
“No one else touches these,” Damian said.
“No one else will,” the doctor answered.
“How long?”
“Four hours for preliminary confirmation. Longer for full chain-of-custody reports.”
“Make it two.”
“This is science, Damian, not intimidation.”
Damian stared at him.
Dr. Vale sighed.
“I’ll do what I can.”
When he left for the lower-level lab, Damian ordered every security camera in the house reviewed, every phone call traced, and every hospital record duplicated. Men moved in and out quietly. Nobody questioned him.
I stood near the fireplace, watching flames burn behind glass.
Leah had finally fallen asleep on a sofa under a cashmere blanket. The velvet rabbit was tucked beneath her chin.
Damian stood beside the desk, reading Sofia’s letter again.
He had read it four times.
Maybe five.
Some grief needs repetition because the mind refuses to hold it all at once.
“You loved her,” I said.
His eyes stayed on the paper.
“Yes.”
“Did she love you?”
That made him look up.
“Why ask that?”
“Because she hid the truth.”
“She hid it because she was afraid.”
“Of your family?”
“Of me, maybe.”
I looked at him.
“Were you someone to fear?”
His expression did not change.
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised me.
Before I could answer, he continued.
“I was raised to believe control was protection. My father taught me that love made men weak unless they owned what they loved completely. Sofia hated that part of me.”
“And Leah?”
His eyes moved to the sofa.
“Leah made me understand ownership is not love.”
His voice changed when he said her name.
“She cried every night after Sofia died. Not like other babies. She would look at the door and wait. Then one day she stopped crying. Stopped reaching. Stopped making sounds at all.”
I felt tears rise.
“And doctors said trauma?”
“Doctors say many things when they cannot explain a child’s heartbreak.”
We sat in silence.
Then I asked the question I had been afraid to ask.
“What happens if the DNA says she’s mine?”
Damian folded the letter carefully.
“She is yours.”
The answer came too fast.
Too clean.
I shook my head.
“No. What happens?”
His jaw worked.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s the first honest thing either of us has said tonight.”
His mouth almost moved like he might smile, but it disappeared.
“You think I would keep her from you.”
“I think you’re Damian Caruso.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means people don’t say no to you.”
“You did.”
“I was holding a child.”
“You were afraid and you still did.”
I looked at Leah.
“I have been afraid for two years. It stopped impressing me.”
Damian studied me like he had not expected that answer.
Before he could respond, the door burst open.
A young guard entered, breathing hard.
“Boss.”
Damian turned.
“What?”
“We traced the call. It bounced through three relays, but the first ping came from inside the estate.”
My blood chilled.
“Inside?”
Damian’s face went still.
“Where?”
The guard swallowed.
“West wing. Old family apartments.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
“Viola’s rooms.”
The guard nodded.
Damian moved instantly.
I stepped forward.
“No.”
He stopped.
“You stay here.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Ava—”
“If this is about my daughter, I go.”
His gaze sharpened at the word daughter.
Not angry.
Affected.
Leah stirred on the sofa.
“Mama?”
I went to her.
“I’m here.”
She sat up, half asleep, and reached for me.
Damian watched us.
Then he looked at the guard.
“Wake Bellamy. No one enters this room except Dr. Vale. Double the doors.”
He turned back to me.
“You come, but you stay behind me.”
“I’ve been behind powerful men before,” I said. “It never protected me.”
His eyes darkened.
“Then stand beside me.”
We crossed the mansion through corridors lined with portraits of dead Carusos who seemed to judge us from gilded frames. The west wing was colder, older, less lived in. Viola’s suite occupied the end of a hall beneath a painted ceiling.
The door was open.
Inside, drawers had been emptied. Clothes were gone. Jewelry cases sat open on the bed. Viola had fled.
But she had left something behind.
On the dressing table was a laptop.
Open.
A video call window glowed on the screen.
A man sat in shadow.
Damian stopped.
“Rocco.”
The man leaned forward just enough for the light to touch his smile.
“Hello, nephew.”
Damian stepped toward the laptop.
“You’re in my house.”
“I have always been in your house.”
I felt Leah press closer against me.
The man’s eyes shifted to her.
“Well,” he said softly, “there she is. The little miracle.”
Damian’s voice was lethal.
“Look at my daughter again and die slower.”
Rocco laughed.
“So emotional. That is why Sofia fooled you. That is why the waitress will ruin you.”
I stared at the screen.
“You stole my baby.”
Rocco’s eyes settled on me.
“No, Ms. Moretti. I corrected a tragedy.”
“My tragedy?”
“Your child lived because of us. Without the transfer, she would have disappeared into foster care, poverty, danger. Instead she was raised Caruso.”
I stepped closer despite Damian’s warning.
“She was raised in silence.”
For the first time, Rocco’s smile faded.
Leah lifted her head.
She looked straight at the screen.
Then she said, clear as glass:
“Bad man.”
Damian froze.
Rocco’s face changed.
Not anger.
Recognition.
Leah began shaking.
“Bad man came night.”
The room went silent.
Damian turned slowly toward her.
“What night, sweetheart?”
Leah pointed at the screen.
“Mommy car.”
Sofia’s accident.
The video call cut off.
May you like
Damian stood motionless.
Then every light in the west wing went out.
Related Stories
