Chapter 2 - THE BROTHER WHO SIGNED THE DEATH CERTIFICATE
Dante had no biological brother.
But Lorenzo Bellini had been closer than blood.
They grew up together in Brooklyn, two boys raised among men who taught them that loyalty was worth more than life.
When Dante's father was murdered, Lorenzo helped him consolidate power.
When rival families threatened war, Lorenzo negotiated ceasefires.
When Dante became engaged to Elisa Romano, Lorenzo stood beside him as best man.
He was the person Dante trusted to handle anything.
Including the aftermath of the crash.
Dante remembered the hospital corridor.
The fluorescent lights.
The smell of antiseptic.
Lorenzo's hand on his shoulder.
Elisa is gone.
Then the second sentence.
The baby didn't make it either.
Dante had believed him.
Why wouldn't he?
Lorenzo had arranged the funeral.
Handled the paperwork.
Identified the remains.
And personally carried the sealed infant coffin to the church.
Now Dante sat in Teresa's kitchen, Lucia asleep against his chest, listening as Camilla explained what happened.
She had been working temporary shifts at a private maternity clinic eight months earlier.
On the night of the crash, a newborn girl arrived with two men and a woman wearing hospital scrubs.
The baby was wrapped in a hospital blanket.
One man ordered the staff to prepare false transfer documents.
Camilla recognized the baby's bracelet.
She also recognized Lorenzo Bellini.
He had visited the Moretti mansion often enough that even the kitchen staff knew his face.
Camilla overheard him speaking to the clinic administrator.
“The mother is dead,” Lorenzo said. “The father believes the child died with her.”
The administrator asked what should happen next.
Lorenzo answered:
“Make sure nobody can prove she was ever here.”
Camilla froze.
She had a daughter of her own.
Rosie was two at the time.
She knew what it meant to hold a child against her chest and feel a tiny heartbeat.
And she understood what Lorenzo intended.
That night, when the clinic's records were being altered, Camilla took photographs of the baby's bracelet and transfer documents.
She contacted her aunt Teresa, a retired pediatric nurse.
Together, they arranged to move the child to safety.
It was dangerous.
It was desperate.
And Camilla knew Lorenzo would kill anyone who interfered.
But she couldn't leave the baby behind.
Dante listened without moving.
When she finished, he looked at her.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Camilla's eyes filled.
“Because Lorenzo controlled your phones, your security, your doctors, and everyone who came near you.”
Dante stared.
She continued.
“I tried once.”
“When?”
“Three weeks after the funeral.”
His expression hardened.
“I never received a message.”
“I know.”
Camilla swallowed.
“The man I gave it to disappeared.”
Silence.
Then Dante asked:
“Why tell me now?”
Camilla looked toward Rosie, sleeping on the couch.
“Because my daughter heard me talking to Teresa. She didn't understand the danger.”
Her voice broke.
“And because I couldn't keep watching you mourn a child who was alive.”
Dante looked down at Lucia.
She slept peacefully.
His daughter.
His miracle.
His responsibility.
Then he whispered:
“Lorenzo buried an empty coffin.”
Camilla nodded.
“Yes.”
May you like
Dante's eyes became cold.
“Then I want to know what else he buried.”
