Chapter 12 - My Father’s Final Secret
The document survived because it had been inside a fireproof case.
My father had signed it thirteen years earlier.
One year before the fire.
I read it in the temporary office we established in the east wing.
Nico sat beside me.
Marco stood near the window.
Elena and Sophia waited near the door.
The attorney cleared his throat.
“Your father created a private trust.”
“For whom?”
“He does not identify the beneficiary by name.”
“Then how?”
“By DNA.”
I frowned.
The attorney turned the page.
“The beneficiary is described as any verified biological descendant of Vittorio Rossi through his paternal line who is under eighteen at the time the trust is activated.”
I stared at him.
“Nico.”
“Yes.”
“But there is another clause.”
Of course there was.
“What clause?”
“If no such descendant exists, the assets transfer to the children of Isabella Rossi.”
Marco looked up.
“Me?”
“And your brother.”
Marco’s face hardened.
“My brother died.”
Elena looked away.
The attorney hesitated.
“We may not know that.”
Silence.
I slowly turned toward Elena.
“What?”
She began shaking her head.
“No.”
“Elena.”
“I saw the nursery burn.”
“That is not what he asked.”
Marco stepped forward.
“You told me my twin died.”
“He was inside.”
“You saw a body?”
Elena said nothing.
My stomach tightened.
The attorney opened another file.
“During the investigation last night, police recovered a hospital transfer record.”
“From the night of the fire.”
“One infant male was moved from St. Helena to a private pediatric facility forty kilometers away.”
“Under what name?”
The attorney looked at Marco.
“Baby Rossi.”
Marco went pale.
“Which baby?”
“We do not know.”
Suddenly Isabella’s statement made more sense.
Both of them.
My sons are innocent.
Both of them.
Elena sat down.
“I thought Matteo had killed him.”
Marco stared at her.
“You didn’t check?”
“I was running with Nico and you.”
“There was fire everywhere.”
“I thought I saw—”
“You thought.”
His voice broke.
Elena began crying.
“I was trying to save you.”
Marco turned away.
I understood his anger.
I also understood Elena.
Twelve years ago, she had been a housekeeper running through smoke with two infants while one of Europe’s most powerful men tried to silence her.
She had saved more than most people would have.
But grief did not care about fairness.
Nico touched Marco’s shoulder.
“Maybe he’s alive.”
Marco laughed bitterly.
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
“But yesterday I didn’t know I had a father.”
Marco looked at him.
For the first time, he softened.
The pediatric facility had closed five years earlier.
Its patient archives had been transferred to a government storage center.
My lawyers obtained emergency access.
The answer arrived that afternoon.
Baby Rossi had survived.
He had been placed into temporary protective care after nobody claimed him.
Six months later, he had been adopted.
New name.
New family.
New life.
Marco stared at the report.
“Where?”
The attorney hesitated.
“We cannot simply go there.”
“Why?”
“He is a minor.”
“His adoptive parents have rights.”
“He has rights.”
Marco’s eyes filled with anger.
“He’s my brother.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody told me he was alive.”
“Yes.”
I stepped beside him.
“Then we do this correctly.”
He looked at me.
“Correctly?”
“No men with guns.”
“No threats.”
“No Rossi power.”
“We ask.”
Marco stared at me for several seconds.
Then nodded.
The attorney closed the file.
“There is another complication.”
I almost laughed.
“What now?”
“Matteo’s attorneys filed an emergency petition this morning.”
“For what?”
“They claim the DNA evidence was illegally obtained.”
“And?”
“They are challenging Nico’s identity.”
My son stiffened.
I looked at the attorney.
“On what basis?”
He slid another document toward me.
Matteo claimed the twelve-year-old boy living in my house was not the baby born to Valentina twelve years earlier.
He claimed Elena had switched the children.
I stared at the page.
Then at Elena.
She looked terrified.
“What?”
I asked.
May you like
She whispered.
“There is something I never told anyone.”
