Chapter 2 – THE NAME ON THE CERTIFICATE

Luca unfolded the yellowed paper.

The silence in the dining room was absolute. Fifty of Chicago’s most elite citizens held their breath as the mafia boss read the document.

I stood two feet away, watching his dark eyes scan the faded ink.

“This is a birth certificate,” Luca said, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

Grace wiped her eyes. “My father gave it to me on his deathbed. He made me swear to protect her.”

Luca looked up, his gaze locking onto Grace. “It says here the mother is Isabella Bennett.”

“Yes,” Grace choked out. “Isabella was my adopted sister. The girl your father said ran away.”

Vanessa let out a harsh, bitter laugh.

“So the kidnapper changed her name and raised her as his own. How touching. And then she had a child out of wedlock, and dumped her on you.”

“Shut your mouth, Vanessa,” Luca warned, not looking away from Grace. “If Isabella is the mother… who is the father?”

Grace hesitated. She looked at Sophie, who was hugging my apron strings, terrified by the shouting adults.

“Grace,” Luca said gently. “Who is my niece’s father?”

Grace closed her eyes. “Read the name on the line, Mr. Moretti.”

Luca looked back down at the document.

I saw his jaw clench. The muscles in his neck strained against his silk collar.

“Marco,” Luca whispered.

Vanessa froze. “What?”

“The father,” Luca said, looking at Vanessa with eyes like black ice. “Is my older brother. Marco.”

The entire room gasped.

Marco Moretti. The golden boy of the family. The man who was supposed to inherit the empire, until he died in a tragic boating accident seven years ago.

“That’s impossible,” Vanessa stammered, the color finally leaving her perfect cheekbones. “Marco didn’t have any children. He was engaged to me.”

I stared at Vanessa, my mind racing.

Vanessa had been engaged to Marco before he died. When Marco drowned, she had seamlessly transitioned to Luca, cementing her place in the family.

Grace shook her head. “Marco loved Isabella. They met in secret. He knew who she was, and he didn’t care. He was going to leave the family for her.”

“Lies!” Vanessa shrieked, dropping her polished aristocratic facade completely. “He loved me! We were getting married in Lake Como!”

“Then why did he buy a house in Vermont under a fake name?” Grace fired back, finding her courage. “Why did he send my father money every month to pay for Isabella’s medical bills?”

Luca stepped toward Grace. “Medical bills?”

Grace pulled a small, worn rosary from her pocket. The beads were chipped and faded.

“Isabella got sick after Sophie was born,” Grace said softly. “Cancer. Marco paid for the treatments. He visited them in secret. He promised he was going to take them away as soon as he finalized the business with the Foundation.”

Luca looked at the rosary. “That belonged to Marco. I gave it to him when we were kids.”

“He gave it to Sophie the night before he died,” Grace said.

Vanessa was hyperventilating now. “This is a setup. She forged these documents to steal the Moretti fortune!”

Giovanni, the Italian gentleman, stepped forward.

“With respect, Miss Bellini,” Giovanni said calmly. “The Moretti Foundation requires a blood test for any inheritance transfer. If this child is Marco’s daughter, science will prove it.”

“I won’t allow it!” Vanessa shouted.

“You don’t make the rules in this family,” Luca snapped.

He knelt down in front of little Sophie.

The nine-year-old looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“Are you really my uncle?” she whispered.

Luca smiled, a genuine, heartbreaking smile that I had never seen on his face.

“I think I am, sweetheart.”

He reached out to touch her shoulder, but Sophie flinched, pulling a small silver watch out of her coat pocket.

“Grandpa told me to give this to the man with the bird tattoo,” she said, holding it out to Luca.

Luca looked at his own hand. A small eagle tattoo rested on his thumb.

He took the watch from her small fingers.

“My father’s pocket watch,” Luca murmured.

He turned it over.

“There’s a latch on the back,” I said softly, stepping closer. “My grandfather had one just like it.”

Luca pressed his thumb against the silver seam. The back of the watch popped open.

A small, folded piece of paper fell into his palm.

Luca unfolded it. It was a handwritten note from his late father.

As Luca read the words, his face hardened into a mask of pure rage.

He slowly stood up, crumpling the note in his fist.

He turned to his fiancé.

“Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice deadly quiet. “Where were you the night Marco’s boat sank?”

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