Chapter 5 - The Baby Who Wasn't MissingThe woman who raised me had been hiding the truth in plain sight.
By the time we returned to the penthouse, the entire building had been locked down.
No employees.
No visitors.
No deliveries.
Only guards.
Alessandro had turned his home into a fortress.
I hated it.
But I couldn't deny that someone was hunting us.
Mia slept in my arms.
I sat on the sofa while Alessandro stood by the window.
“You think Mia isn't your daughter?” he asked.
“My daughter is my daughter.”
He turned.
“That wasn't what I asked.”
I looked at him.
“You think she's Isabella?”
“I think someone wants us to believe that.”
“Why?”
“Because if your mother had another daughter, that child matters.”
“To your family?”
“To whoever killed Lucia.”
He approached.
Then he placed the letter on the table.
“We need a DNA test.”
I stared at him.
“With whom?”
“Me.”
My heart skipped.
“You?”
He nodded.
“Your mother was connected to my family.”
“And?”
“And Mia reached for me the moment she saw me.”
I almost laughed.
“She is eight months old.”
“That doesn't prove anything.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“But I need to know.”
I agreed.
The test was done privately.
No lab in Manhattan.
No employee had access.
We sent the sample under an alias.
Then we waited.
During those hours, Alessandro barely left the room.
At one point, I found him sitting beside Mia's crib.
She was asleep.
He was staring at her.
“You look like someone I used to know,” he whispered.
“Who?”
“My sister.”
I froze.
“I thought you didn't have a sister.”
“I didn't.”
He looked at me.
“Not officially.”
He told me the story.
Vittorio had said his daughter died at birth.
Alessandro had been seventeen.
He remembered hearing a baby crying once inside the east wing of the family estate.
Then the sound disappeared.
His father told him to forget it.
He never did.
The next morning, our test results arrived.
Alessandro opened the envelope.
He read the first line.
Then stopped.
I watched his face.
“What does it say?”
He handed me the paper.
PATERNITY PROBABILITY: 99.98%.
I stared at the number.
I looked at Mia.
Then at him.
“You're her father?”
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“I'm her uncle.”
The room tilted.
“What?”
He pointed to the second page.
A maternal relationship analysis.
Mia was related to me.
And to him.
But not as father and daughter.
As niece and uncle.
My hands shook.
“So Isabella…”
“Is Mia.”
I looked at my daughter.
My entire world shifted.
The child I had believed was mine by birth was my daughter in every way that mattered.
But if Mia was Isabella, then where was my biological daughter?
A knock sounded.
One of Alessandro's men entered.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We found Raymond.”
My heart jumped.
“Where?”
“In the old church.”
Alessandro immediately stood.
“He's alive?”
“Yes.”
“Bring him here.”
The guard hesitated.
“He refused.”
Alessandro's eyes hardened.
“Why?”
“He said he would only speak to Elena.”
I followed them downstairs.
Raymond sat inside a guarded room.
His face looked ten years older.
When he saw me, he closed his eyes.
“I hoped you'd never learn.”
“Learn what?”
He looked at Mia.
“I helped your mother.”
My breath caught.
“You knew her?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I was her driver.”
Alessandro's expression changed.
Raymond swallowed.
“Your mother didn't abandon you.”
“Then why did she leave me with strangers?”
“She didn't.”
He slid a photograph across the table.
A newborn baby.
Two women.
One was Marina.
The other was Lucia.
Between them was a hospital bassinet.
Two babies lay inside.
One had a pink bracelet.
The other had a white bracelet.
I stared.
“Twins?”
Raymond nodded.
“Your mother gave birth to two daughters.”
Alessandro looked at me.
“Which one is yours?”
Raymond's hand trembled.
“The pink bracelet belonged to your daughter.”
I looked at Mia.
“But she has the white bracelet.”
Raymond nodded.
“Exactly.”
The room went silent.
“So Mia isn't Isabella.”
Raymond looked at Alessandro.
“No.”
Then he looked at me.
“Mia is the daughter your mother tried to save.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Where is my daughter?”
Raymond's eyes filled with tears.
“She's been with another family for eight months.”
“Which family?”
He lowered his voice.
“The Duca family.”
Alessandro went pale.
“My family?”
Raymond nodded.
“Your father took her the night she was born.”
A crash sounded from the hallway.
Someone had dropped a weapon.
Then the guard outside screamed.
Gunshots erupted.
Raymond jerked backward.
A dark stain spread across his shirt.
I screamed.
He grabbed my wrist with his last strength.
“Don't trust…”
May you like
His eyes moved toward Alessandro.
“…the man standing behind you.”
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