Chapter 9 – THE SECRET OF HER BIRTH

The room went dead silent.

I stared at the phone on the coffee table, my mind refusing to process the words.

“What did you just say?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Teresa gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She went entirely pale, swaying slightly in her chair.

Luca picked up the phone, his face hardening into a mask of pure shock. “Bring the folder up. Now.”

He hung up and turned to me, then to his mother.

“Mother,” Luca demanded, his voice thick with confusion. “What is he talking about? Sophie is Emily’s daughter.”

I looked down at the little girl sleeping peacefully on my lap. My daughter. The child I had raised, the child I had protected with my life tonight.

“She is my daughter,” I said fiercely, pulling Sophie closer. “I gave birth to her.”

Teresa began to weep, her shoulders shaking violently. “I’m sorry. Dear God, I am so sorry.”

“Teresa, what is going on?” I pleaded, panic rising in my chest.

A guard entered the room, handing Luca a manila folder. Luca opened it, his eyes scanning the documents. He stopped, his breath catching in his throat.

He slowly handed the papers to me.

I looked at the top sheet. It was a hospital record from eight years ago. My name was on it as the admitting patient.

But underneath, in stark black ink, was a DNA analysis report attached to a forged birth certificate.

Biological Mother: Unknown. Biological Father: Antonio Moretti.

My world tilted on its axis.

“No,” I stammered, shaking my head. “No, this is a lie. Andrew is her father. I was there!”

Teresa stood up, walking toward me on trembling legs. She knelt beside the sofa, her eyes filled with a lifetime of guilt.

“Emily, listen to me,” Teresa cried. “Eight years ago, you were pregnant with Andrew’s child. But there were complications. You lost the baby in the third trimester.”

“Stop,” I begged, pressing my hands to my ears. “Stop it.”

“You were heavily sedated,” Teresa continued, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. “Andrew came to me. He told me that my son Antonio—who I thought was dead—had fathered a child with a woman who died in childbirth. The Rossis were going to kill the baby to end Antonio’s bloodline.”

Luca stared at his mother in absolute horror. “You put Antonio’s child in Emily’s arms?”

“Andrew arranged it!” Teresa sobbed. “He bribed the doctors. He swapped the records. He told Emily the baby she delivered was healthy. He used Emily as a smokescreen to hide the true Moretti heir in plain sight!”

I looked down at Sophie.

Her dark hair. Her olive skin. The way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, exactly the way Luca’s did.

She wasn’t Andrew’s daughter. She wasn’t a Rossi.

She was a Moretti.

She was Luca’s niece.

“You knew,” I whispered, looking at Teresa, the betrayal slicing through my heart like glass. “You watched me raise her. You watched me scrub your floors, struggling to feed her, and you knew she was your granddaughter.”

“I wanted to protect her,” Teresa wept. “If the Rossis knew she was here, they would have killed you both. Andrew promised she would be safe if I paid him. I’ve been paying him secretly for eight years.”

Luca staggered back, running a hand through his hair.

The man I had killed tonight hadn’t just abused me. He had orchestrated the greatest theft of my life. He let me grieve a child I didn’t know I lost, and handed me another man’s daughter to use as a pawn for blackmail.

Sophie stirred on my lap, rubbing her eyes.

She looked up at me, sensing the tension in the room.

“Mommy?” she mumbled, reaching up to touch my tears. “Why are you sad?”

I looked at the little girl who was my entire world. Blood didn’t matter. DNA didn’t matter. I had rocked her to sleep, kissed her scraped knees, and killed a man to keep her safe.

“I’m not sad, baby,” I whispered, kissing her forehead fiercely. “Mommy just loves you very much.”

Luca stepped forward, his eyes locked on Sophie. Knowing she was his family changed nothing about the way he looked at her. It only deepened the fierce, protective fire in his gaze.

But then, Luca’s phone rang again.

It was an unknown number.

Luca answered it, putting it on speaker.

“Hello, little brother,” a raspy, familiar voice echoed through the room.

Teresa gasped.

It was Antonio.

“They know she’s alive, Luca,” Antonio said, his voice panicked. “The Rossis know where you are. They’re coming for my daughter.”