Chapter 12 - Lorenzo knew he was adopted, but not who his brother was
The first conversation took place by video.
No Sicily.
No guards.
No dramatic family reunion.
Enzo hated every aspect of it.
Lorenzo appeared on the screen.
Adelina stopped breathing.
It was Enzo.
Not exactly.
Same dark eyes.
Same jaw.
Same height, judging by proportions.
But where Enzo wore black and looked like every room belonged to him, Lorenzo wore an open-collar blue shirt and glasses.
He looked tired.
Human.
Enzo stared.
Lorenzo stared back.
Then:
“Well.”
Enzo almost laughed.
“That’s all?”
“What would you prefer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
Good start.
The independent attorney remained on the call.
So did Lorenzo’s lawyer.
No one trusted blood yet.
Excellent.
Enzo asked:
“You knew?”
“I knew Carlo Bellaforte was not my biological father.”
“Since when?”
“Sixteen.”
“Did he tell you where you came from?”
“Rome.”
“Powerful family.”
“No name.”
Enzo’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
Lorenzo looked away.
“Because Bellaforte was also a name that could get someone killed.”
Adelina watched Enzo absorb that.
Same problem.
Different crest.
Then Lorenzo said:
“After Carlo died, I found pieces.”
“A hospital record.”
“One photograph.”
“A note referring to Castellano.”
“But not enough.”
“Why didn’t you investigate?”
“I did.”
“Quietly.”
“Then Julian Castellano’s name kept appearing.”
Enzo became still.
“What did Julian have to do with this?”
Lorenzo shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“About eight years ago, a private investigator I hired was approached by someone claiming to represent Julian.”
“They told him the birth file was false and further inquiries would create problems.”
Enzo’s expression hardened.
Julian again.
Not necessarily the kidnapper.
He would have been ten when the twins were born.
But years later?
He may have discovered Lorenzo.
And preferred another possible Castellano son remain in Sicily.
Another threat to succession.
Enzo asked:
“Did you ever speak to Julian?”
“No.”
“Did he contact you?”
“No.”
Good.
No hidden brother alliance.
Then Adelina asked her first question.
“Mr. Bellaforte—”
“Lorenzo.”
“Did Carlo tell you who took you from Rome?”
Lorenzo became quiet.
“He said he didn’t.”
Enzo frowned.
“You believe him?”
“I believe he did not personally order it.”
“That is different.”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo explained.
Carlo’s older brother, Marcello, had run violent operations during the old Castellano-Bellaforte war.
He died when Lorenzo was five.
Carlo later told Lorenzo that Marcello arrived one night with a baby and instructed everyone to say the child belonged to a dead cousin.
Carlo and his wife had recently lost an infant.
They raised Lorenzo.
“Did Carlo know I had a twin?”
Lorenzo asked.
Enzo looked at the diary.
“I don’t know.”
For once:
no confident answer.
Then the lawyers discussed DNA.
Two independent laboratories.
No Castellano facility.
No Bellaforte doctor.
Chain of custody.
Enzo immediately agreed.
Lorenzo did too.
Adelina nearly smiled.
Everybody learning.
The results came twelve days later.
The geneticists did not rely on facial resemblance.
They confirmed what the diary predicted:
Enzo and Lorenzo were monozygotic twins.
Identical genetic siblings.
Enzo stared at the report.
Then at the screen.
Lorenzo whispered:
“So.”
Enzo said:
“So.”
Again, neither knew what came next.
Finally Enzo held up the gold ring.
“This was yours.”
Lorenzo’s face changed.
He leaned closer.
“What is it?”
“A ring our father kept.”
“Your birth initials.”
Antonio Castellano.
Lorenzo stared.
“That’s not my name.”
Enzo froze.
Lorenzo continued:
“It may have been.”
“But my name is Lorenzo Bellaforte.”
There.
Blood did not overwrite thirty-eight years.
Enzo slowly lowered the ring.
“Understood.”
Did he like it?
No.
Did that matter?
Also no.
Then Lorenzo asked:
“What do you want from me?”
Enzo almost said:
Come home.
Caught himself.
“I want to meet you.”
“In person.”
“If you want.”
Lorenzo considered.
Then:
“Neutral place.”
Enzo’s eye twitched.
“My house is secure.”
“That is exactly why I said neutral.”
Adelina hid her smile.
Geneva was selected.
No syndicate property.
One security officer each.
No council.
No Sophia.
Enzo objected to the last condition.
Adelina supported it.
A three-year-old did not need to participate in adult identity negotiations because she happened to be the reason the probate box opened.
Then Lorenzo asked one final question before disconnecting.
“Enzo?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know what happened to Julian?”
Enzo’s face went cold.
“He was removed.”
Lorenzo did not look satisfied.
“What does that mean?”
Silence.
For months everyone around Enzo had accepted those words.
Syndicate justice.
Removed.
Handled.
Lorenzo, a lawyer, did not.
He asked:
“Is he alive?”
Enzo paused.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Secure Castellano detention.”
Lorenzo stared at him.
“You found out your brother murdered Matteo Rossi and tried to kill you.”
“And you put him in a private basement?”
Enzo’s jaw tightened.
“He was judged by the council.”
“That was not my question.”
Adelina looked at Enzo.
The problem had been waiting there since Chapter 7.
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They had just been too relieved to call it a problem.
👉 Lorenzo’s DNA confirmed Enzo had an identical twin—but his very first challenge to the Castellano family was not about inheritance or blood; it was asking why Julian’s crimes had never reached a real court.
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