Chapter 5 - THE CHILD BENEATH THE ALTAR
The hidden room beneath the church contained a small bed, a locked medicine cabinet, children’s clothing, and drawings taped across the stone walls.
Every drawing showed the same thing.
A dark-haired woman holding the hand of a little girl beneath a yellow sun.
The child hiding beneath the bed was three years old.
She had black curls, pale skin, and Alessandro’s gray eyes.
When Luca reached for her, she screamed.
I crouched slowly despite my own weakness.
“My name is Sofia.”
The girl watched me from the shadows.
“I have a little girl too.”
Emma stood behind me clutching Alessandro’s stained shirt.
The hidden child looked at her.
Emma knelt.
“You scared?”
The girl nodded.
“Me too.”
Emma held out the sleeve of the shirt.
“This Mister Wolf shirt.”
The child crawled slightly forward.
“He wolf?”
“Yes. But nice wolf.”
Even Luca looked away to hide his emotion.
The little girl finally allowed me to lift her.
A silver bracelet circled her wrist.
EMILIA.
Alessandro was taken to the hospital under armed escort.
The bullet had entered below his collarbone and missed his heart by less than an inch.
He required emergency surgery.
Emma refused to leave the waiting room.
She sat in my lap wrapped in a blanket while Emilia slept against Rosa’s shoulder.
The two girls looked similar only in age.
Yet someone had built an entire conspiracy upon confusing them.
Luca paced near the windows.
“Marcello’s men are being questioned. Half claim they never knew the child was beneath the church.”
“Do you believe them?” I asked.
“No.”
“What will happen to Marcello?”
“He will answer to the organization.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
His pacing stopped.
“He kidnapped my sister. He imprisoned a child. He ordered my husband’s death. He goes to the police.”
Luca’s expression became careful.
“The police cannot hold everything they do not understand.”
“Then help them understand.”
“This is not how our world works.”
“It is how mine works.”
“You are standing inside Alessandro’s world now.”
“No. Alessandro stepped into mine when he carried my daughter out of the laundry room.”
Luca stared at me.
I continued.
“If he survives, he decides what kind of world remains.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
The question silenced the room.
Emma lifted her head.
“Mister Wolf come back.”
I kissed her hair.
“Yes.”
I did not know whether it was truth or prayer.
Hours passed.
A surgeon finally entered.
“Mr. Moretti survived the operation.”
Luca closed his eyes.
My knees nearly gave way.
“He lost a significant amount of blood,” the surgeon continued. “The next twenty-four hours are critical.”
Emma slid from my lap.
“Can see him?”
“Not yet.”
She looked betrayed by the answer.
The surgeon glanced toward Emilia.
“We also examined the second child. She is malnourished but stable. Blood testing is underway.”
“Paternity?” Luca asked.
“With appropriate authorization.”
I looked toward the sleeping child.
Alessandro was her presumed father, but she did not know him.
She did not know that a war had been fought over her existence.
She only knew locked doors.
Later that night, Emilia woke screaming for someone named Bella.
A nurse tried to calm her.
Nothing worked.
I carried her into the quiet family room.
“Who is Bella?”
“My mama.”
“Where is she?”
The child pointed downward.
“Sleep room.”
The church had been searched, but no woman had been found.
I called Luca.
“Emilia says her mother was at the church.”
He returned with investigators.
The child could not explain locations, but she drew a narrow staircase and a room beneath a cross.
Police searched again.
Behind the crypt wall, they found another chamber.
Isabella Rinaldi was alive.
Barely.
Marcello had kept her sedated and hidden for years, moving her between properties while using Emilia as leverage.
She was transported to the same hospital.
Alessandro regained consciousness shortly before dawn.
I entered his room wearing a mask because of my pneumonia.
His face was pale against the pillow.
“You look terrible,” I said.
His mouth moved slightly.
“So do you.”
“That is not charming.”
“I have been shot.”
“I have pneumonia.”
“You win.”
I sat beside him.
“Emilia is alive.”
His eyes closed.
“And Isabella?”
“Also alive.”
A tear moved down the side of his face.
“She remembered me?”
“She has not fully awakened.”
“Marcello?”
“In police custody.”
His eyes opened sharply.
“Police?”
“Yes.”
“That was your decision.”
“It was.”
He watched me.
Then gave the smallest nod.
“Good.”
I had expected resistance.
“You agree?”
“My uncle built his power on believing nobody outside our world could judge him.”
Alessandro looked toward the window.
“Perhaps it is time we proved him wrong.”
Emma entered before the nurse could stop her.
She climbed onto a chair beside the bed.
“You awake.”
“I am.”
“You got two stains.”
Alessandro looked at the bandages.
“I did.”
She held up a clean white shirt.
One of the nurses had found it in his hospital bag.
“I wash this one.”
He lifted one hand.
“No.”
Emma frowned.
“Why?”
“Because you are three.”
“I big girl.”
“You are a child.”
She considered that.
Then she placed her small palm over his.
“You sad?”
“Yes.”
“Mama says—”
“I remember.”
“Cry let sad out.”
Alessandro looked toward me.
Then he cried openly.
Not like a mafia boss.
Not like the Wolf of the East River.
Like a man who had found a daughter after believing she was dead.
Emma patted his hand.
“There.”
He laughed through the tears.
Hours later, the paternity results arrived.
Emilia was Alessandro’s biological daughter.
Isabella woke that afternoon.
He entered her room alone.
I did not hear their first words.
But through the glass, I saw Isabella raise one trembling hand toward his face.
I saw Alessandro kneel beside her bed.
I saw the grief of four stolen years move between them.
When he emerged, he leaned against the wall.
“She thought I abandoned her.”
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“And Emilia?”
“She wants us both near her, but Isabella does not know whether she can trust me.”
“She should not know yet.”
He looked at me.
“You agree with her.”
“I think trust is earned after truth. Not before.”
Alessandro nodded.
“She asked about Daniel.”
My breath caught.
“What did she say?”
“He saved her life during the attack. Marcello’s men believed she was dead. Daniel moved her before they returned.”
“Then how did Marcello find her?”
“Daniel contacted someone he thought he could trust.”
“Rafael.”
“Yes.”
My grief changed shape.
Daniel had died trying to protect a woman and child he barely knew.
He had hidden the truth from me.
I was angry with him.
Proud of him.
Broken by him.
All at once.
Alessandro held out Daniel’s letter.
“I think you should keep this.”
I took it.
“He died because of your family.”
“Yes.”
“What will you do about that?”
His face became still.
“End the part of my family that made his death possible.”
Outside the hospital, the Moretti organization was already dividing.
Some men supported Alessandro’s decision to surrender Marcello.
Others called it betrayal.
Three captains disappeared.
Weapons were moved from warehouses.
The Bellandis learned that Alessandro was wounded.
New York’s underworld smelled blood.
That night, Luca entered with grim news.
“Carlo Bellandi sent a message.”
Alessandro pushed himself upright despite the pain.
“What does he want?”
“The girls.”
I felt the room turn cold.
Luca continued.
“He says Emma’s identity was sold to several buyers before they learned she was not your biological daughter.”
“Then why does he still want her?”
“Because blood is no longer the point.”
May you like
Luca looked toward Emma asleep beside the window.
“He says the whole city watched you take a bullet for her.”
