Chapter 4: The Secret in His Father's Study
Dante had buried his father nine years ago.
He had also buried every memory of the man who raised him to believe that family was something you protected, even when protection required cruelty.
Now, standing beneath the crystal chandeliers of his private banquet hall, Dante held a photograph of a newborn child and read his father's handwriting for the third time.
*If Dante ever sees this child, stop him.*
Beneath it was Elena Carter's name.
His fingers tightened around the photograph.
"Bianca," Dante said quietly, "tell me exactly what you found.""
Bianca adjusted the diamond necklace at her throat. For once, the movement looked nervous rather than vain.
"I told you. I was looking for the wedding documents in your father's study.""
"And you just happened to find a photograph of a baby?""
"It was inside a locked drawer.""
Dante's eyes lifted.
"How did you open it?""
Bianca hesitated.
He took one step toward her.
"How?""
"Your father kept an old brass key in the desk. I found it in the same room.""
"You searched his desk?""
"I was trying to help you!""
"By searching through my dead father's private belongings?""
Bianca's cheeks flushed.
"You've spent years telling me that everything in this family would eventually be mine. I thought I should understand the business I was marrying into.""
Dante looked down at the photograph again.
The baby had been wrapped in a white blanket. A tiny hand rested beside its face, fingers curled like a miniature fist.
He couldn't see the child's features clearly.
But the Moretti crest on the hospital tag was unmistakable.
"Did you show this to anyone?"" he asked.
"No.""
"Did you take anything else?""
Bianca's silence lasted a fraction too long.
Dante noticed.
"What else, Bianca?""
She reached into her evening bag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
"I found this beneath the photograph.""
Dante unfolded it.
It was a hospital record, yellowed around the edges. The printed fields were faded, but several lines remained legible.
Mother: Elena Carter.
Date of admission: October 14.
The year was seven years earlier.
Under the section marked Emergency Contact, someone had typed a name.
*Thomas Moretti.*
Dante stared at it.
His father had died nine years ago.
For several seconds, the room seemed to tilt.
"That's impossible," he whispered.
Bianca took a careful breath.
"That's what I thought.""
"Where did this come from?""
"I don't know.""
"Who put it in the drawer?""
"I don't know, Dante!""
He slammed the paper against the table.
"Stop saying that!""
Bianca recoiled.
The sound echoed through the empty hall.
Dante closed his eyes briefly, forcing his breathing to slow. When he opened them, he looked less like a furious fiancé and more like a man standing at the edge of something he could not see the bottom of.
"Call Marcus," he said.
"Tell him I need the original hospital records. Not copies. Everything.""
Bianca folded her arms.
"And what happens to our wedding?""
Dante looked at her as if he had forgotten there was a wedding.
"What?""
"Our wedding, Dante. The one we've spent six months planning. The one your family has announced to half the city.""
"Not now.""
"When, then? After you decide whether a waitress's child belongs to you?""
His expression hardened.
"Don't call her that.""
Bianca stared at him.
"You're defending her again.""
"I'm correcting you.""
"She vanished for seven years. You don't even know if that child is yours.""
"Which is why I'm investigating.""
"And if she is?""
Dante said nothing.
Bianca's eyes shone, but her voice sharpened.
"Will you abandon me for a woman who left you without a word?""
Dante placed the photograph on the table.
"I don't know what I'm going to do.""
It was the most honest answer he had given her in months.
Bianca looked away.
For a moment, he almost felt sorry for her.
Then she said, "You should ask yourself why Elena came back tonight. Women don't walk into a room like this by accident.""
Dante's expression changed.
"She was working.""
"At an event hosted by you.""
"She didn't know I would be here.""
"How do you know?""
He didn't answer.
Because the truth was that he didn't.
Forty minutes later, Dante stood outside a modest apartment building on the other side of the city.
He had dismissed the driver and come with Marcus, who had spent the journey making calls to the hospital where Elena had once received prenatal care.
The records department had confirmed that Elena was admitted on October 14, seven years earlier.
But when Marcus requested the delivery records, the clerk had found a problem.
The file had been sealed by special order.
No explanation.
No accessible authorization number.
Just a note that the record had been transferred to a private archive.
"Someone went to considerable trouble," Marcus said as they climbed the stairs.
Dante stopped outside apartment 3B.
"Find out who signed the order.""
"Already trying.""
Dante knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
From inside came the sound of a lock turning, followed by Elena's cautious voice.
"Who's there?""
"It's Dante.""
Silence.
Then the door opened a few inches.
Elena stood on the other side wearing a faded gray sweater. Her hair was tied back, and she looked exhausted. Behind her, a small lamp illuminated a living room containing a worn sofa, a stack of library books, and a child's pink backpack.
Her eyes went straight to Marcus.
Then back to Dante.
"What are you doing here?""
"We need to talk.""
"No, we don't.""
"Elena, please.""
She laughed without humor.
"You don't get to appear at my door at midnight and say please like seven years haven't happened.""
Dante lowered his voice.
"I found a hospital record.""
The color drained from her face.
"What record?""
"One with your name on it. My father's name was listed as the emergency contact.""
Elena gripped the edge of the door.
Dante watched the recognition spread across her expression.
"You knew," he whispered.
She shook her head.
"I knew nothing about your father being involved.""
"Then why does his name appear on your hospital record?""
"I don't know.""
"Elena.""
"I don't!""
Her voice cracked.
From the living room, a small voice called out.
"Mommy?""
Elena immediately turned.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Go back to bed.""
"Who's there?""
"Just a friend.""
Dante heard the words.
Just a friend.
Once, he had been the man she called when the world became too heavy. Now he was a stranger standing outside her door, holding evidence of a life she had kept from him.
He looked at her.
"Did my father ever contact you?""
Elena's mouth trembled.
Before she could answer, a small shadow appeared behind her.
Sophie stood in the hallway, rubbing one eye.
She was wearing pajamas patterned with tiny stars.
"Dante?""
He crouched slightly.
"Hey, Sophie.""
She glanced at the photograph in his hand.
"Is that me?""
Dante looked down.
The newborn in the picture had no visible face, but the hospital tag was clear.
"I don't know yet, sweetheart.""
Sophie frowned.
"Mommy says people should tell the truth.""
Elena closed her eyes.
Dante looked up at her.
"She's right.""
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Elena stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind her, leaving Sophie safely inside.
"Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear the answers to," she whispered.
Dante held her gaze.
"Try me.""
Elena swallowed.
"Your father came to see me at the hospital.""
Dante went completely still.
"When?""
"The night Sophie was born.""
"What did he say?""
Elena looked toward the closed door.
"He told me that if I loved my daughter, I would never let her carry your name.""
Dante's jaw tightened.
"Why?""
"He said your enemies would use her against you. He said the Moretti family didn't have room for an innocent child.""
Dante stared at her.
"My father was dead.""
Elena's eyes filled with tears.
"No, Dante.""
She took a shaky breath.
May you like
"He wasn't dead when he came to see me.""
And from inside the apartment, Sophie began to cry.
