Chapter 5 - THE FIFTH HEIR
The little boy in the photograph looked about six years old.
He had dark hair, serious eyes, and a small scar above his eyebrow.
He also looked disturbingly like Dante.
I enlarged the image.
My stomach dropped.
“Who is he?”
Luca studied the photograph.
“I don't know.”
Rebecca leaned closer.
“There's a date printed on the back.”
I turned the photograph over.
October 18, 2021.
A year before Dante and I married.
The woman's face was unfamiliar, but the location wasn't.
Behind them stood a stone fountain in the courtyard of the Moretti estate.
I had walked past that fountain hundreds of times.
“Find her,” I told Luca.
He hesitated.
“Sophia—”
“Find the woman.”
The next morning, my babies were doing well enough that Dr. Foster allowed me to hold Grace for the first time.
She weighed barely four pounds.
Her skin was warm against mine.
I watched her tiny chest rise and fall.
For a moment, there was no Carlo.
No Isabella.
No Dante.
Just my daughter.
“Your mother is going to make mistakes,” I whispered. “Probably a lot of them. But I promise I'll never make you wonder whether you're loved.”
Grace opened her mouth in a sleepy yawn.
I laughed through my tears.
When Emma came to help me return her to the incubator, she found me smiling.
“That's the first real smile I've seen since delivery,” she said.
“She's perfect.”
“They all are.”
I looked at her.
“Emma, why did you help me?”
She frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“You knew what Dante's family could do.”
She pulled a chair beside me.
“Because eight years ago, when my father died, you drove through a snowstorm to sit with me. You didn't ask what I needed. You just showed up.”
I remembered.
Emma had barely spoken for two days.
I'd sat on her kitchen floor with her and eaten cold pizza.
“You don't owe me for that.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“That's why I'm here.”
That afternoon, Luca returned with an answer.
“The woman is named Evelyn Cross.”
“Who is she?”
“A former nurse who worked for the Moretti family.”
“And the boy?”
“Her son. His name is Daniel.”
I held my breath.
“Dante's son?”
Luca shook his head.
“No.”
Relief hit me so suddenly that I almost laughed.
Then he continued.
“Daniel is Carlo's grandson.”
I stared at him.
“Carlo has a grandson?”
“Apparently.”
“Why is that a secret?”
“Because Daniel's mother is Carlo's estranged daughter, Amelia.”
I tried to remember whether Dante had ever mentioned an aunt or cousin named Amelia.
He hadn't.
Luca placed another photograph on the table.
It showed Amelia Moretti standing beside Evelyn.
And behind them, partially hidden by a doorway, was Dante.
“He knew them,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Luca's expression darkened.
“Because Daniel disappeared when he was three.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Carlo claimed the boy died of pneumonia. But Amelia never believed him.”
A chill moved through me.
“Where is Amelia?”
“In protective custody.”
“Why?”
“Because she accused Carlo of using her son to gain control of a family trust.”
I stared at my four babies.
The pattern was becoming clear.
Children.
Trusts.
Custody.
Money.
Carlo had done this before.
“Where's Daniel now?”
Luca didn't answer.
“Luca.”
“We don't know.”
I felt the room close around me.
Then my phone rang.
Dante.
I nearly ignored it.
But something made me answer.
“What?”
His voice sounded exhausted.
“Sophia, I found Isabella.”
I sat straighter.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In a private clinic.”
“Is she hurt?”
“She's frightened. And she's telling me things I should have known years ago.”
I closed my eyes.
“About Carlo?”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel Cross?”
Silence.
Then Dante whispered:
“How do you know about Daniel?”
I looked at the four incubators beyond the glass.
“Because I'm beginning to understand your family better than you do.”
Dante exhaled.
“Sophia, there's something I need to tell you.”
I waited.
“Daniel isn't dead.”
My heart pounded.
“Where is he?”
Another silence.
May you like
Then Dante said:
“He's been living in my house.”
