Chapter 6 - The Lie Beneath the DNA Report
No one spoke.
Nicholas stood in front of me.
Five years old.
Confused.
Innocent.
And according to the paper in my hands, not my son.
Matteo’s.
I looked at Alina.
Her face showed disbelief.
“That’s impossible.”
Matteo stared at the report.
“I never…”
He could not finish.
I looked again.
Test date: three years earlier.
Samples listed:
Nicholas Hale.
Matteo Rizzo.
Probability of paternity: 99.98 percent.
My vision narrowed.
Alina stepped toward me.
“Marco, listen to me.”
I looked at her.
“Is there any possibility?”
“No.”
“Any?”
“No!”
Her voice cracked.
“Never.”
Matteo raised both hands.
“Marco, I swear—”
I turned on him.
“Do not.”
Nicholas flinched.
I stopped immediately.
Rebecca pulled him close.
This was exactly what Vittorio wanted.
Chaos.
Suspicion.
Family turning against family.
I forced myself to think.
“Where did this report come from?”
Matteo looked at the page.
“My father.”
“Convenient.”
“I’m not asking you to trust me.”
“Good.”
“I’m asking you to notice something.”
He pointed.
“The laboratory.”
I read the name.
Belmont Genetic Services.
Matteo continued.
“It closed eight years ago.”
I looked at him.
“You’re sure?”
“My father used it for private testing.”
“If it closed eight years ago, how was this test performed three years ago?”
Silence.
Forgery.
Alina sat down.
“Oh my God.”
Matteo took the paper.
“My father wanted this found.”
“Why?”
“To destroy trust.”
I thought back to Vittorio at the estate.
You think this ends with me?
He expected us to continue tearing ourselves apart even after his arrest.
“He planted it five years ago?”
“No.”
Matteo shook his head.
“Thomas would have noticed.”
Rebecca spoke.
“The envelope wasn’t in the folder originally.”
We looked at her.
“What?”
“I saw the contents when Thomas first received it. There were property papers and a sealed letter. Nothing like this.”
“So someone added it later.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
Nicholas tugged Rebecca’s sleeve.
“Grandpa man.”
Rebecca looked down.
“What?”
“The grandpa man came.”
My pulse changed.
“When?”
“Before Christmas.”
“What grandpa man?”
Nicholas pointed at Vittorio’s photograph on Matteo’s phone.
“Him.”
Matteo whispered a curse.
Vittorio visited Nicholas personally.
That meant he had access to the farmhouse.
Enough to plant documents.
Enough to photograph the child.
Enough to threaten.
“Did he talk to you?”
Nicholas nodded.
“He said he knew my real daddy.”
Rebecca became pale.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“Good boy.”
Nicholas looked at me.
“Are you my real daddy?”
The question broke something open inside me.
DNA report or not, I did not know the scientific answer yet.
But I knew what not to do.
I crouched.
“You have a daddy.”
I looked toward the door.
“Thomas.”
Nicholas nodded.
“And he loves you.”
“Yes.”
“And Rebecca loves you.”
“Yes.”
“That’s what matters right now.”
He studied me.
“Do you love me?”
I could not breathe.
Alina started crying behind me.
I answered carefully.
“I think I’ve loved you since before I knew you.”
Nicholas smiled.
Then hugged me.
For the second time in two days, a child had run into my arms and rearranged my entire life.
Thomas returned forty minutes later.
Bruised.
Exhausted.
Alive.
He had followed Vittorio’s men to an abandoned warehouse but lost them.
They had taken the original folder.
“Why?” I asked.
Thomas sat at the kitchen table.
“Maybe because of the letter.”
“What letter?”
“The one Matteo gave me.”
Matteo looked confused.
“I gave you instructions for Nicholas.”
Thomas shook his head.
“There was another sealed letter.”
“From who?”
“Alina.”
Everyone looked at her.
She frowned.
“I never wrote one.”
Another forgery.
Or something worse.
Thomas continued.
“It said if anything happened to Alina, Nicholas was to inherit a trust.”
“What trust?”
“I never opened the documents.”
Matteo closed his eyes.
“My father.”
“What?”
“He created something.”
I looked at him.
“When?”
“Years ago. An emergency succession trust.”
“For what?”
“To move assets if leadership became unstable.”
My anger rose again.
“How much?”
“Potentially hundreds of millions.”
“And whose authorization was required?”
“Mine.”
“Anyone else?”
Matteo hesitated.
“Yours.”
I understood.
Vittorio needed me and Matteo divided.
Not only emotionally.
Legally.
If we turned against each other, he could trigger clauses claiming instability.
He had spent years engineering mistrust.
Sophia’s disappearance.
Nicholas’s identity.
Alina’s isolation.
Matteo’s silence.
Every road led to the same purpose.
Control.
Antonio received a phone call.
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“Federal agents found something at Vittorio’s Lake Forest property.”
“What?”
“A hidden office.”
“And?”
“Records.”
“What kind?”
“DNA records.”
My heart accelerated.
We returned to Chicago.
A federal investigator named Agent Collins met us.
On the table were dozens of folders.
Family names.
Birth records.
Photographs.
Genetic reports.
Most were fake.
Vittorio had collected biological information and fabricated relationships to manipulate people.
Then Collins handed me one genuine-looking report.
“This one was performed at a current accredited lab.”
Nicholas.
Marco Vitelli.
Probability of paternity.
99.99%.
I closed my eyes.
My son.
Really mine.
Alina grabbed my hand.
Matteo exhaled.
Thomas looked conflicted.
I understood why.
A DNA test did not erase five years of parenthood.
I looked at Thomas.
“I’m not taking him away from you.”
He stared at me.
“What?”
“Nicholas needs you.”
“He’s your son.”
“He can have both.”
Thomas looked toward Rebecca.
She cried quietly.
Alina squeezed my hand.
For once, there was no battle.
Only people trying to choose what was best for a child.
Then Collins placed another file on the table.
“We found something else.”
I was exhausted.
“What?”
“Records regarding Alina’s disappearance.”
I looked up.
“There was someone helping Vittorio from inside your household.”
My body went still.
“Who?”
Collins slid a photograph toward me.
A woman.
I recognized her immediately.
Maria Valdez.
Sophia’s former nanny.
The woman who had been with our family from the week Sophia was born.
The woman who cried when Sophia disappeared.
The woman who helped Alina pack diaper bags.
The woman who had testified that Alina left the house alone.
“She worked for Vittorio?” I asked.
Collins nodded.
“For years.”
My anger became cold.
“Where is she?”
Collins hesitated.
“We don’t know.”
Then Antonio’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Elena’s house.”
My heart stopped.
“What about it?”
“Maria is there.”
I stood.
May you like
Antonio continued.
“She has Sophia.”
