Chapter 2 - The Ghost of St. HelenaThe paper trembled in my hand, though my fingers felt carved from ice.
Matteo took another step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture, his voice dropping to a desperate, hurried whisper. "Brother, listen to me. It’s not what it looks like. Let me explain before you let a piece of old paper tear this family apart."
"Explain what, Matteo?" My voice was dangerously calm, the kind of quiet that made my armed guards instinctively take a step back toward the iron double doors. "Explain why your name is on a paternity document dated twelve years ago, matching you not to a stranger, but to the child everyone told me died in the fire? Or explain why my wife’s hospital bracelet was wrapped around a newborn abandoned in the trash behind our kitchen tonight?"
Valentina gasped, pressing her manicured hands to her cheeks. "He’s lying! Lorenzo, he’s trying to frame us! Matteo has always resented your control over the empire. He wants everything—the money, the power, the estate—and now he’s using some sick trick to manipulate you!"
"Shut up, Valentina," Matteo snapped, his mask of calm completely shattering. He glared at her with a look of pure venom. "Your amateur theatrics are what got us into this mess. If you had disposed of the boy properly twelve years ago instead of keeping him locked away in the northern tenant cottage, none of this would have happened!"
Silence fell over the grand hall, heavy and suffocating.
Valentina’s face drained of every last trace of color. She stared at Matteo, her lips trembling. "You... you fool. You just confessed."
I didn't yell. I didn't smash the antique desk. I just stared at the two people I had trusted with my life, my secrets, and my blood.
"Twelve years ago," I began, each word falling like a lead weight, "you both told me my newborn son died in the nursery fire. You both wept at the empty casket. Valentina wore black for a year. Matteo, you held me by the shoulder and told me we would rebuild our legacy together, even if heaven meant to test us."
I looked down at the DNA report again. The ink didn't lie.
Primary match: Matteo Rossi. Secondary familial linkage: Lorenzo Rossi.
The baby on the sofa let out a soft whimpering cry, stirring in his cream blanket.
Sophia stepped closer to me, her small fingers lightly tugging at the hem of my coat. "Sir... the woman in the picture. She didn't die in the fire. I saw her too. Last year, when I brought food to the old cottage."
My head snapped down toward the little girl. "What did you say?"
"Matteo’s first wife," Sophia whispered, looking around nervously as if the shadows might listen. "She’s alive. They kept her locked in the old medical wing across the lake. The fire was just a story to hide her away."
Matteo lunged forward, his hand slipping toward the hidden holster inside his jacket. "Sophia, keep your mouth shut—"
Before he could pull his weapon, my lead security chief, Marcus, had a pistol leveled directly at Matteo's chest. "Don't even think about it, Mr. Rossi."
Matteo froze, his breathing coming in ragged, shallow gasps. He looked at me, defeat finally bleeding into his dark eyes.
"You think you own everything, Lorenzo," Matteo spat, a bitter laugh escaping his throat. "You think because you wear the ring, you control the dynasty. But you never knew the truth about what happened twelve years ago. Valentina didn't just give birth to one child. She gave birth to twins. And the woman you thought was my wife... she discovered what Valentina and I planned."
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My vision blurred red. "What did you say?"
"The baby you found tonight," Matteo whispered, his voice cracking. "He isn't your son from twelve years ago. He is your son's twin brother. And the child you lost tonight... is only half of the puzzle."
