Chapter 9 - the forged legacy
Gabriel reached down and took the paper from Hannah’s hands.
His expression didn't change as he read the zero-percent paternity result. There was no explosion of anger, no sudden gasp of shock. Instead, a grim, humorless smirk touched the corner of his mouth.
"Elena left this where Nicholas could find it," Gabriel said, his voice flat and analytical. "She wanted my son to see it. She wanted the rumor to spread before she made her move."
Hannah stood up, keeping herself between Gabriel and the sleeping children. "Is it true?"
Gabriel looked at her, his hazel eyes piercing through the dim light of the bedroom. "Lucia’s mother was Sophia Rossi. When Sophia and I married eleven years ago, it was an alliance between Chicago and Sicily. Sophia was already three weeks pregnant when she arrived in the States."
Hannah’s eyes widened slightly. "You knew?"
"I always knew," Gabriel said quietly. "Sophia’s family had been slaughtered in a coup in Palermo. She was carrying the last child of the Rossi bloodline. I claimed Lucia as my own daughter the day she took her first breath. I gave her my name. Under the laws of our world, she is a Moretti."
Nicholas looked up at his father, his eyes shining with tears. "So... she really isn't my real sister?"
Gabriel dropped to one knee in front of his son, placing both hands on Nicholas’s shoulders. His touch was fierce, possessive, and entirely loving.
"Listen to me, Nicholas," Gabriel said with unyielding conviction. "Blood makes people related. Loyalty and love make them family. Lucia is your sister until the day you die. Do you hear me?"
Nicholas nodded vigorously, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "Yes, Dad."
"Good. Now go to your room and lock the door from the inside. Frank is outside your window."
Nicholas gave his father a quick, tight hug, then ran down the hallway toward his bedroom.
Gabriel stood up, folding the Zurich lab report into a tight square and shoving it into his pocket. He turned to Hannah.
"Elena didn't order this test to hurt my feelings," Gabriel said, walking toward the bedroom doorway. "Under the Moretti family trust, if I die without a legitimate daughter, forty percent of our commercial real estate assets revert directly to my late brother's estate."
Hannah connected the dots instantly. "And Elena was married to your late brother."
"Exactly," Gabriel said. "Elena needs Lucia dead or proven illegitimate before the annual trust meeting on Monday. If Lucia is out of the picture, Elena inherits three hundred million dollars in Chicago property."
"Then Elena hired the man at the restaurant," Hannah said.
"No," Gabriel countered, shaking his head. "Elena is greedy, but she’s a coward. She wouldn't hire Enzo Rossi’s brother. Enzo Rossi hated Sophia’s family. Elena is just a puppet. Someone else is pulling the strings from New York."
Suddenly, the house’s internal telephone on the nightstand buzzed with an urgent red light.
Gabriel picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear. "Speak."
Dante’s voice came through, loud and breathless: "Boss! The wine cellar! We have a problem!"
May you like
"Did Mrs. Gable talk?" Gabriel asked.
"No, boss," Dante gasped. "Someone cut the power to the basement grid two minutes ago. Mrs. Gable is dead. A silenced round through the head. And the blonde courier from the restaurant... he’s gone."
