Chapter 2 - the stolen birthright
The silence in the grand ballroom was suffocating. Hundreds of guests stood frozen in place, their eyes darting between the powerful mob boss, his trembling fiancée on the floor, and the maid holding the little girl in the pale-pink dress.
Victor stepped over the broken glass and spilled wine, his polished leather shoes clicking against the marble floor. He stopped in front of Celeste, his broad frame casting a heavy shadow over her shivering body.
"I asked you a question, Celeste," Victor repeated, his voice dangerously low. "Seven years ago, when Clara gave birth in Saint Jude’s Private Clinic, who paid the doctors to forge a death certificate and hand my newborn daughter to you?"
Celeste scrambled backward on her hands and knees, her emerald dress ruined, her diamond earrings shaking as she sobbed nervously. "Victor... please! You have to listen to me! I did it for us! You needed an heir, and that woman was just a poor, irrelevant nobody! She couldn't give Rosie the life, the title, or the protection of the Bellandi name!"
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd of high-society guests.
Clara dropped to her knees, pulling Rosie into a desperate, weeping embrace. "My baby... my sweet baby..." she sobbed, burying her face into Rosie's soft brown hair. "I held a empty blanket for three days... they told me you died in the incubator..."
Rosie wrapped her small arms tightly around Clara’s neck, her sweet little voice echoing in the quiet room. "Don't cry, Mommy... I'm right here."
Victor turned around slowly, looking down at Clara and Rosie. The fierce, terrifying intensity in his dark eyes softened into a rare, profound warmth. He walked over and knelt beside them on the marble floor, completely unbothered by his midnight-black tuxedo pressing against the cold stone.
Victor reached out his broad hand, gently resting his palm on Clara’s shoulder. "You will never shed another tear in this house, Clara. Never again."
Victor stood up and signaled to his chief security officer, Marcus, who was standing near the entrance in a dark suit with an earpiece.
"Clear the room," Victor ordered flatly. "Escort our guests out. Secure the perimeter grounds. No one leaves the estate until I give the word."
"Right away, Mr. Bellandi," Marcus nodded, immediately signaling four armed guards to clear the ballroom.
Within ten minutes, the grand ballroom was empty, save for Victor, Clara, Rosie, Dr. Hayes, and Celeste, who remained pinned against the wall under the heavy guard of two bodyguards.
Victor walked over to Dr. Hayes. "Doctor, I want every medical record from Saint Jude’s Clinic pulled tonight. I want the names of every nurse, doctor, and administrator who worked the maternity wing seven years ago."
"I’m already on it, Victor," Dr. Hayes said, handing him a secondary black folder. "And there’s something else you need to see. The original blood panel from seven years ago was scrubbed from the state registry, but I recovered an unedited copy from the regional archive."
Victor opened the black folder, his dark eyes scanning the yellowed documents inside. As his eyes landed on the bottom paragraph, his jaw clenched tightly, his gold cufflinks glinting under the chandelier light.
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"Clara wasn't just an employee at the clinic, was she?" Victor asked quietly.
Dr. Hayes shook his head slowly. "No, Victor. Clara was the daughter of late Arthur Bennett—your father’s original business partner who vanished seven years ago."
