Chapter 5 - THE MESSAGE HIDDEN IN MY BLOODSTAINED SHIRT
Isabella had kept the shirt.
Not because of me.
At least that was what she insisted.
“It was evidence,” she said.
We were back at the estate.
Lily slept upstairs after refusing to go to bed until I promised three separate times that I would still be there in the morning.
The shirt lay across my study desk.
Dark blue.
Torn at the side.
A brown stain marked where my blood had soaked through.
I remembered the pain.
The rain.
Isabella’s hands trembling as she stitched me.
“You were terrible,” she said.
I looked up.
“What?”
“That night.”
“I was shot.”
“You kept trying to stand.”
“I needed to leave.”
“You had a bullet in your side.”
“I noticed.”
“You threatened me twice.”
“I was polite.”
She laughed.
The sound did something uncomfortable to my chest.
Then Marco found the stitching.
A section of the hem had been resewn by hand.
He cut it carefully.
A tiny plastic sleeve slid out.
Inside was a memory card.
Antonio Rossi had hidden it there.
We loaded it onto an isolated laptop.
A video appeared.
Antonio.
Older than Isabella remembered him.
Tired.
Afraid.
“My Isa,” he began.
Isabella broke before he finished the first sentence.
I moved beside her.
Not touching.
Just near.
Antonio explained everything.
Vittorio’s betrayal.
The stolen money.
The families he moved.
The ambush against me.
Then he said:
“If Alessandro survives, he must know his father is trying to save him.”
I closed my eyes.
Salvatore had wanted me out.
He had wanted a legitimate life for me.
I spent the years after his death doing the exact opposite.
Antonio continued.
“Vittorio has convinced Alessandro that weakness is fatal. He will try to make him colder. More isolated. Easier to control.”
Isabella looked at me.
He had succeeded.
Then Antonio’s voice softened.
“Isa, I know what happened that night.”
Her face changed.
“What does he mean?”
The recording continued.
“You told me you were afraid you might be pregnant.”
I looked at Isabella.
She shut her eyes.
“I didn’t know yet.”
Antonio said:
“If the child is Alessandro’s, Vittorio can never know.”
My heart tightened.
“He will see that child as a threat to Luca.”
Isabella started crying.
“I’m sorry.”
I took her hand.
She looked surprised.
“Keep going,” I said.
Antonio’s last instructions were clear.
Hide.
Use the money he had moved.
Stay away from Moretti properties.
If the child was mine, never tell me unless Vittorio and Luca could no longer reach her.
Then the recording ended.
The room felt too quiet.
“You followed his instructions,” I said.
“Yes.”
“You let me live six years without knowing.”
“Yes.”
Anger rose.
I didn’t hide it.
“You saw me in newspapers. On television. You knew where I lived.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Lily asked about her father.”
Her face tightened.
“Yes.”
“You knew I believed I couldn’t have children.”
“No. I didn’t know that.”
“But you knew she was mine.”
“I knew what the test said.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
She stood.
“You don’t get to do that.”
I stared.
“Do what?”
“Turn eight years of fear into one simple decision I made to hurt you.”
I went silent.
She continued.
“My father disappeared. Your uncle found me. Men followed me for months. Michael married me even though he knew Lily might not be his. Then he died in a construction accident when she was two.”
Her voice shook.
“I worked nights. Cleaned houses. Took buses across the city. Checked every dark car behind me because I thought your family might still be watching.”
I had no answer.
“You lost six years,” she said. “I know that.”
Tears ran down her face.
“But I spent six years trying to make sure Lily got to have them.”
That broke my anger.
I stepped closer.
“I’m sorry.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You’re not good at that sentence.”
“No.”
“But you mean it?”
“Yes.”
She looked at me for a long time.
Then nodded.
“I know.”
The next morning, Lily appeared at breakfast wearing one of my dress shirts over her pajamas.
It reached her ankles.
“Why are you wearing that?”
“Mom says we might have to leave.”
I looked at Isabella.
She froze.
“What?”
“I said we might get an apartment nearby.”
“No.”
Isabella frowned.
“Alessandro.”
“No.”
“This is your house.”
“And Lily’s.”
Lily smiled.
Isabella did not.
“That’s too fast.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“Yes. That doesn’t mean we move into your mansion permanently.”
“Why not?”
“Because normal people don’t decide families in forty-eight hours.”
“I’m not normal.”
“We noticed.”
Lily giggled.
I tried not to smile.
Later that day, we went to a private medical clinic.
New DNA tests.
Legal chain of custody.
No old bloodstained shirt.
No hidden laboratories.
The doctor called us into his office.
“Mr. Moretti, Ms. Rossi, the results are definitive.”
I held my breath.
“Alessandro is Lily’s biological father.”
Lily looked at me.
Then she smiled.
“Okay.”
I almost laughed.
“That’s it?”
“What else?”
“You just found out.”
“I already knew.”
“No, you suspected.”
She shrugged.
“You have my eyebrows.”
Isabella started laughing.
I did too.
For one perfect moment, the world felt simple.
Then Marco entered the clinic.
He rarely interrupted me unless necessary.
His face told me this was necessary.
“What happened?”
“Sofia’s in labor.”
I looked at the date.
She was seven weeks early.
“Where?”
“St. Matthew’s.”
“Is she okay?”
“We don’t know.”
Then he lowered his voice.
“Luca escaped during transport.”
Every part of me went cold.
“How?”
“Ambush.”
“Where is he now?”
“Unknown.”
I looked toward Lily.
Isabella understood instantly.
“No.”
“I’m increasing security.”
“Alessandro—”
“Luca knows she’s mine.”
“And?”
“And he spent years helping Vittorio hide her because she threatened his place.”
Lily looked between us.
“Is bad cousin Luca coming here?”
I crouched.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ll make sure.”
She studied me.
“Promise?”
I hesitated.
Then told her the truth.
“I promise I’ll do everything I can.”
She nodded.
Better.
More honest.
My phone rang.
Sofia.
Her voice was weak.
“Alessandro.”
“I’m here.”
“The baby came.”
“Is she alive?”
A sob.
“Yes.”
A girl.
Premature but alive.
I closed my eyes.
“Good.”
Then Sofia whispered:
“Luca called me.”
My body tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He wants his daughter.”
Of course.
“Where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“Stay with security.”
“He said if I don’t bring her to him, he’ll take someone else’s daughter instead.”
I looked through the glass.
Lily was holding Isabella’s hand.
The old fear came back.
Not fear for myself.
Something much worse.
May you like
Luca no longer had anything to lose.
And he had just made my six-year-old daughter part of his revenge.
