Chapter 9

The silence in the dining room was deafening.

Mateo slowly reached out and touched the old, yellowed paper.

“My mother always told me my father was a mechanic,” Mateo whispered. “She said he died before I was born.”

Gabriel picked up the next letter in the stack. It was written in his late father’s handwriting.

“‘To my sons,’” Gabriel read aloud, his voice thick with emotion. “‘If you are reading this, then the truth can finally be known. My brother, Antonio, was the true founder of this empire. But he fell in love with a woman outside our world. When Silas tried to kill her to keep the bloodline pure, Antonio walked away. He changed his name. He gave up the throne to me to protect his unborn son.’”

Gabriel lowered the letter.

He looked at Mateo.

“You’re my cousin,” Gabriel said. “You’re the rightful heir to the Moretti family.”

Mateo pushed back his chair and stood up. He walked over to the window, running his hands over his face.

I walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He leaned into my touch, overwhelmed by thirty years of lies suddenly unraveling in a single morning.

“Mateo,” Gabriel said softly. “You served me. You took bullets for me. You called me boss for fourteen years. And the whole time… this house, this table, this empire… it all belonged to you.”

Mateo turned around.

He looked at the crystal chandeliers. He looked at the expensive paintings.

Then, he looked at Ethan, who was busy building a tower out of his pancakes, completely oblivious to the massive shift in power.

Mateo walked back to the table.

He picked up the birth certificate.

And then, he slowly, deliberately, tore it in half.

Gabriel started. “What are you doing?”

Mateo tore it again, dropping the pieces into the empty coffee cup.

“I don’t want it, Gabriel.”

“Mateo, it’s yours by right—”

“My right is right here,” Mateo interrupted, pointing to me and Ethan. “I spent four years chained to a pipe, dreaming about taking my wife to a movie. Dreaming about teaching my son how to ride a bike. I don’t want a throne. I don’t want a syndicate.”

Mateo walked over to Gabriel and put his hand on his shoulder.

“You are the head of this family, Gabriel. You made it legitimate. You cleaned the rot. You earned it.”

Gabriel looked at his cousin, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He stood up and pulled Mateo into a fierce embrace.

“We share it,” Gabriel said firmly into Mateo’s shoulder. “Half of everything I own goes into a trust for Ethan. He will never struggle for a single day of his life. And neither will Maya.”

Mateo pulled back, smiling. “Deal.”

Gabriel reached back into the wooden box.

“There’s one more thing in here,” Gabriel said.

He pulled out a small, faded velvet pouch.

He opened the drawstring and poured the contents into his palm.

It was a breathtaking, diamond-encrusted silver ring.