Chapter 8 - The Daughter of Two FathersNo one spoke.
The screen glowed in the dark chamber.
Biological father: Vittorio Viscari.
I looked at Vincent.
He looked as though the bullet had struck him instead of Caterina.
“That is false,” he said.
My mother did not answer.
“Sofia,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes.
My entire life seemed to split down the middle.
Vincent Hale, the man who had survived twenty-two years because of a bracelet I made.
Vittorio Viscari, the dead crime lord whose empire had destroyed my family.
One was my father.
One was not.
Or perhaps both had been, in different ways.
“Tell me the truth,” I said.
My mother pressed a hand against her mouth.
Adrien stood slowly, still holding Caterina.
“Now.”
Sofia looked at Vincent.
“I was already pregnant when we met.”
The pain in his face was unbearable.
“You told me she was mine.”
“She was.”
“The record says—”
“You loved her before she was born. You held her when she opened her eyes. You named her Lena.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“No,” Sofia whispered. “Biologically, she was Vittorio’s.”
I felt sick.
“How?”
My mother’s shame filled the room.
“I was twenty-three when I began working for him. He controlled my salary, my apartment, my immigration paperwork, everything. One night after a party…”
She could not continue.
She did not need to.
Adrien’s expression turned murderous, though the man responsible was already dead.
“I found out I was pregnant six weeks later,” Sofia said. “Vittorio wanted the child hidden. He was married, and Caterina had begun questioning his accounts.”
Caterina looked away.
“You knew?” Adrien asked her.
“Not until years later.”
Sofia continued.
“Vincent was the prosecutor assigned to investigate Vittorio’s construction fraud. He discovered I was altering records under threat. He helped me escape.”
Vincent’s eyes were wet.
“I knew Vittorio had hurt you. I didn’t know…”
“You loved Lena,” Sofia said. “And she loved you.”
“I still do.”
He looked at me.
“Nothing changes that.”
I wanted to believe him.
But everything had changed.
Adrien was staring at me differently.
Not with disgust.
Not even shock.
With recognition.
We shared a father.
The realization made the tenderness between us feel suddenly impossible.
I stepped away from him.
He noticed.
“Lena.”
“Don’t.”
“We did not know.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Dr. Bell interrupted.
“Caterina is losing blood.”
Reality returned.
Whatever secrets had been uncovered, a woman was dying.
Adrien carried his mother up the stairs.
Marco and Crane took Cross into custody. Officers removed Marcus’s body.
I remained in the chamber with Sofia and Vincent.
My parents.
The word no longer fit easily.
Vincent approached me carefully.
“I understand if you need time.”
“You spent twenty-two years believing I was your daughter.”
“You are my daughter.”
“But you didn’t know.”
“I knew the important part.”
“What part?”
“That I loved you.”
I looked away before I cried.
Sofia reached for me.
I stepped back.
Her hand fell.
“You lied to everyone.”
“I was trying to protect you from Vittorio.”
“You used Vincent.”
“No.”
“You let him believe—”
“I told him the truth after you were born.”
Vincent looked sharply at her.
“What?”
Sofia stared at him.
“You were exhausted. I told you that Vittorio was her biological father.”
“I would remember.”
“You said it did not matter.”
“I would remember.”
Crane, standing near the console, suddenly turned toward the screen.
“The file was altered.”
We looked at him.
He opened the metadata.
“The paternity record was uploaded eleven minutes ago.”
“By whom?” I asked.
Crane traced the signal.
“Cross’s access token.”
The record was fake.
Hope struck too quickly.
Vincent moved to the screen.
“Can you recover the original?”
“Possibly.”
He typed several commands.
The document changed.
Biological father: Vincent Hale.
I gripped the console.
Adrien was not my brother.
Relief came first.
Then shame for feeling relief while Caterina fought for her life.
Cross had planted the record to divide us.
Even captured and bleeding, he had found one more way to wound everyone in the room.
Sofia began laughing and crying at the same time.
Vincent stared at the corrected result.
“You told me?”
“Yes.”
“And I said it didn’t matter?”
“Yes.”
He pulled her into his arms.
For one moment, she resisted.
Then twenty-two years of separation collapsed.
She held him.
I watched them, unable to join.
My phone began vibrating.
Hundreds of news alerts filled the screen.
DEPUTY MAYOR LINKED TO HUMAN TRAFFICKING NETWORK.
VIScARI FILES EXPOSE JUDGES AND POLICE OFFICIALS.
FEDERAL INVESTIGATION ANNOUNCED.
Then another headline appeared.
MAFIA BOSS ADRIEN VISCARI NAMED IN SECRET LEDGER.
My stomach tightened.
I opened the article.
Documents showed payments from Viscari-controlled companies to Cross’s organizations as recently as six months earlier.
Adrien had said he dismantled his father’s network.
The ledger suggested he had financed it.
Marco saw the headline.
“That’s impossible.”
“Are the records fake?” I asked.
He did not answer immediately.
“Some could be.”
“Could be?”
“Adrien maintained old accounts to trace the money.”
“Did he tell federal investigators?”
“No.”
“Then it looks like he funded them.”
“He was trying to identify the network.”
“Or he was protecting it.”
Marco’s face hardened.
“You don’t know him.”
“No. I don’t.”
That was the problem.
I knew how he looked when he placed his jacket around my shoulders.
I knew how carefully he carried me through the tunnel.
I knew he had risked his life for me.
But Marcus had once been gentle too.
Kindness during danger was not proof of goodness.
Crane’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What happened?” I asked.
“The clinic was attacked.”
My heart stopped.
“Adrien?”
“Missing.”
“Caterina?”
“Taken.”
The chamber lights shut off.
Backup lights flickered on.
A recorded voice filled the room.
Julian Cross.
“If you are hearing this, the upload succeeded. Congratulations.”
We turned toward him.
He sat handcuffed between two officers, smiling.
The recording continued.
“But truth is only useful when people know which version to believe. By morning, Adrien Viscari will be blamed for the entire network.”
May you like
Cross looked directly at me.
“And by sunrise, he will be dead.”
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