Chapter 10 - The Price of Family
Liam had not been kidnapped.
Not exactly.
That was the first thing he said when we found him.
The second was:
“Please tell Alessandro to stop pointing a gun at my face.”
Alessandro did not lower it.
We were inside an abandoned Vitali warehouse near the river.
Matteo stood twenty feet away.
Rebecca stood beside me.
Bianca beside Alessandro.
Three generations of lies had finally gathered in one room.
Liam lifted both hands.
“I came voluntarily.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because Matteo contacted me.”
“You could have told us.”
“He said he had proof your father was alive.”
The world tilted.
“My father?”
Matteo smiled sadly.
“Jonathan survived the crash.”
Rebecca went completely still.
That told me she hadn’t known.
For once, the master of secrets had been excluded from one.
“Where is he?” she demanded.
“Safe.”
“Where?”
Matteo’s smile vanished.
“You don’t get to demand anything, Rebecca.”
The story that followed was uglier than anything we expected.
Vittorio had ordered the Bellamy crash.
Matteo had sabotaged the plan.
Jonathan survived.
Rebecca survived separately.
Each believed the other compromised.
Matteo hid Jonathan.
Not out of kindness.
Because Jonathan possessed the master encryption key to ORPHEUS.
“You killed Sofia,” Alessandro said.
Matteo looked at him.
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I loved your mother.”
“Then who killed her?”
Matteo looked toward Rebecca.
Rebecca’s face changed.
“No.”
Bianca whispered, “What?”
Matteo said, “Sofia killed herself.”
Alessandro lunged.
I grabbed his arm.
“Listen.”
Matteo continued.
Sofia had discovered Vittorio intended to take Bianca and use her as leverage.
She caused the car explosion herself after arranging her daughter’s escape.
She died deliberately, ensuring Vittorio believed the evidence had been destroyed with her.
Alessandro looked shattered.
“She left me.”
“No,” Matteo said. “She saved both of you.”
“She left me.”
The fourteen-year-old boy had returned again.
Bianca walked to him.
“She saved me because she knew you were strong enough to survive.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“No.”
Bianca took his hand.
“But maybe frightened people make terrible choices for people they love.”
Every person in that warehouse understood.
Rebecca.
Matteo.
Liam.
Me.
Even Alessandro.
Matteo finally surrendered the drive containing ORPHEUS.
He was not the villain.
Not entirely.
He had lied, manipulated, hidden people, and moved money illegally.
But for twenty-five years, he had also kept Jonathan Bellamy alive.
“Take me to my father,” I said.
Matteo nodded.
We found him in a private neurological care facility outside Chicago.
My father had suffered severe brain trauma.
For years he had been unable to speak.
Recently, he had improved.
When I entered his room, his eyes found me.
“Lizzie?”
One word.
That was enough.
I crossed the room and collapsed against him.
For the first time since I was twenty-one, I had a father.
Rebecca stood in the doorway crying.
Jonathan looked at her.
His face transformed.
“Professor,” she whispered.
He laughed.
Barely.
But he laughed.
Even Alessandro turned away.
The next months changed everything.
The ORPHEUS files were turned over through carefully selected federal channels.
Matteo accepted prosecution for financial crimes in exchange for testimony.
Vitali Holdings survived, but Alessandro dismantled every shell company connected to his father’s network.
Bianca reclaimed her birth name privately while keeping De Luca professionally.
Rebecca stopped disappearing.
Mostly.
My father began rehabilitation.
And my belly grew.
Alessandro became unbearable.
At sixteen weeks, he purchased three cribs.
“At twenty weeks, there will be twelve,” I warned.
“I like options.”
“The baby cannot sleep in twelve beds.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Do you understand babies?”
“No.”
“Excellent.”
He attended every appointment.
He pretended not to cry during the ultrasound.
I pretended not to notice.
When we learned we were having a daughter, he sat in the car afterward for five full minutes.
“A girl,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
He looked terrified.
“What if I’m like my father?”
I took his face between my hands.
“You’re worried about becoming him.”
“Yes.”
“That’s already one major difference.”
He kissed my palm.
Then asked:
“Can I buy her a horse?”
“She currently weighs eleven ounces.”
“So later?”
“No.”
“A pony?”
“Alessandro.”
“Negotiation is healthy.”
Three days later, a stuffed horse appeared in the nursery.
May you like
I allowed it.
Because dictators occasionally required symbolic victories.
