Chapter 7: The Man My Grandmother Warned Me About
For three seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
The hospital hallway disappeared.
The voices disappeared.
The machines.
The footsteps.
Everything became distant.
There was only one sentence echoing in my head.
*The man you have been standing beside all night took your father.*
I stared at Vincent.
He was standing only a few feet away.
The same man who had protected me from gunfire.
The same man who had searched for answers about his mother.
The same man my father told me not to hate.
But now my grandmother’s voice was in my ear, trembling with fear.
And fear was not something Rosa Bellandi showed easily.
“Luca?””
Vincent noticed my expression.
“What did she say?””
I couldn’t answer.
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Grandma…”
The line was still open.
“Tell me,” I whispered.
There was silence.
Then she said:
“Do not let him know where I am.””
My eyes moved toward Vincent.
“Who?””
Another pause.
“You know who.””
The call ended.
I stood frozen.
Vincent watched me carefully.
“Was that Rosa?””
I didn’t respond.
“Luca.””
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
I looked at him.
“Did you take my father?””
The hallway went silent.
Even Antonio stopped moving.
Vincent’s expression changed.
Not anger.
Shock.
“What?””
I forced the words out again.
“Did you take Matteo Bellandi?””
For a moment, Vincent looked genuinely confused.
Then something darker appeared.
Betrayal.
Not because I accused him.
Because someone had made me believe it.
“Who told you that?””
“My grandmother.””
Antonio looked away.
Vincent noticed.
“You believe her?””
I wanted to say no.
I wanted to say yes.
The truth was worse.
I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
“I don’t know.””
The honesty seemed to hurt him more than an accusation.
Vincent looked down.
Then he spoke quietly.
“If I wanted your father gone, Luca, he would have never existed in your life.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
“It means I knew about Matteo.””
My heartbeat changed.
“You knew?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
Vincent looked toward the hospital room.
“Twenty-five years ago.””
I felt anger rise.
“You knew my father was alive?””
“No.””
His answer was immediate.
“I knew he was protecting someone.””
“Who?””
Vincent looked at me.
“You.””
The word hit me.
I stepped back.
“What?””
“Your father came to me once.””
Antonio turned sharply.
“You never told me that.””
Vincent ignored him.
“It was the night my mother disappeared.””
My chest tightened.
“Why?””
“Because Matteo knew something was wrong.””
Vincent’s voice became quieter.
“He came to me because he believed I was the only person who could help him.””
I stared at him.
“And did you?””
His silence was answer enough.
“You didn’t.””
Vincent looked away.
“No.””
The hallway felt colder.
“Why?””
“Because I was seventeen.””
His voice cracked slightly.
“I was angry. Confused. I thought Matteo was part of the reason my mother left.””
A pause.
“I made a mistake.””
I watched him carefully.
The powerful man everyone feared was admitting weakness.
Something he probably never did.
“What happened after?””
Vincent looked at the floor.
“When I went back the next morning, Matteo was gone.””
“Taken?””
“I don’t know.””
“You expect me to believe that?””
“No.””
He looked at me.
“I expect you to understand that I have spent twenty-five years trying to find the same answers.””
I wanted to argue.
But I couldn’t.
Because the pain in his eyes looked real.
Antonio finally spoke.
“There is something neither of you know.””
We turned.
The older man looked exhausted.
“What?”” Vincent asked.
Antonio hesitated.
Then he said:
“Matteo didn’t trust only Rosa.””
My stomach tightened.
“Who else?””
Antonio looked at Vincent.
“He trusted you.””
The silence was immediate.
Vincent’s face changed.
“No.””
“Yes.””
“Why would he?””
“Because Elena trusted you.””
Vincent looked away.
His mother’s name still had power over him.
Even after twenty-five years.
Antonio continued.
“Matteo knew your father was dangerous. He knew Gabriel was involved. He knew Rosa could protect Luca.””
He paused.
“But he needed someone who could protect the truth.””
Vincent looked at me.
“And he chose me?””
Antonio nodded.
I felt confused.
“If Vincent was supposed to help him, why did my grandmother warn me?””
Nobody answered.
That was becoming the most frightening pattern.
Everyone had pieces.
Nobody had the whole story.
Then the hospital room door opened.
The doctor stepped out.
“Mr. Moretti.””
Vincent turned.
“How is he?””
“Stable.””
“Can he talk?””
“Briefly.””
Vincent looked at me.
Then entered.
I followed.
I didn’t know why.
Maybe because I needed answers.
Maybe because I needed to know whether Vincent was my enemy.
Gabriel looked weaker than before.
His eyes moved between us.
“Together,” he whispered.
Vincent leaned closer.
“What?””
“You two…”
His breathing became difficult.
“Should never have found each other.””
I stepped forward.
“Why?””
Gabriel looked at me.
“Because now they know.””
“Who?””
His eyes filled with fear.
“The Morettis.””
Vincent frowned.
“I am a Moretti.””
Gabriel looked at him.
“No.””
A pause.
“Not you.””
The room became still.
“Then who?””
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“The one who has been waiting.””
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“Who?””
Gabriel tried to speak.
The words came slowly.
“Your father’s brother.””
Vincent froze.
“My uncle?””
“No.””
Gabriel looked at me.
“Luca’s.””
My heart dropped.
“Gabriel…”
He coughed.
“You need to understand.””
His hand trembled as he reached toward me.
“Your father wasn’t hiding you because you were in danger.””
“Then why?””
“Because of what you are.””
I felt frustrated.
“What does that mean?””
Gabriel looked at Vincent.
“Tell him.””
Vincent stared.
“Tell him what?””
Gabriel’s eyes moved back to me.
“The truth.””
The machine beside him began beeping faster.
The doctor rushed closer.
But Gabriel forced out one final sentence.
“Luca Bellandi…”
His eyes closed briefly.
“You are not Matteo’s son.””
The room stopped.
I couldn’t understand.
“What?””
Vincent looked at Gabriel.
“What did you say?””
Gabriel’s breathing became weak.
“You were Elena’s last secret.””
The doctor pushed us back.
“Out. Now.””
We were forced into the hallway.
I stood there completely numb.
Not Matteo’s son.
The words didn’t fit.
They couldn’t.
My entire life had been built around one truth.
My father was Matteo Bellandi.
My mother had died before I remembered her.
My grandmother raised me.
That was my story.
Now even that was being taken away.
Vincent looked at me.
I expected pity.
I expected suspicion.
Instead, he looked angry.
Not at me.
At the people who had hidden this.
“Who was your mother?””
I shook my head.
“I don’t know.””
Antonio looked at the hospital door.
“He does.””
Vincent turned.
“Gabriel?””
Antonio nodded.
“And so did Elena.””
A terrible thought entered my mind.
“What if my grandmother knows too?””
Nobody spoke.
Because they knew.
She did.
My phone vibrated again.
This time, the number was not unknown.
It was saved.
A name I hadn’t seen in years.
My grandmother.
But the message wasn’t from her.
There was a picture attached.
An old photograph.
I opened it.
My hands went cold.
It showed a young Elena Moretti.
Standing beside Rosa.
Holding a baby.
A baby wrapped in a white blanket.
On the back of the photograph was a handwritten note.
Only one sentence.
*The child Vincent lost is the child Rosa raised.*
I stared at the picture.
Then slowly looked at Vincent.
He was staring too.
His face had lost all color.
Because he understood before I did.
The baby in the photograph.
The baby Elena was holding.
The baby Rosa raised.
Was me.
Vincent whispered:
“Luca…”
His voice broke.
“My mother didn’t leave me.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
A tear appeared in his eyes.
The first one I had ever seen.
“She lost you.””
The hallway went silent.
And then my phone received one final message.
From my grandmother.
Four words.
May you like
Four words that destroyed everything I thought I knew.
*You are Vincent’s brother.*
