Chapter 6 - THE PRICE OF A DAUGHTER
Salvatore's younger brother was Father Matteo Marino.
A priest.
For 23 years, Matteo had lived quietly at a monastery outside Syracuse, New York.
Elena could barely process the absurdity.
The man involved in her kidnapping had spent decades hearing other people's confessions.
Now she wanted his.
Salvatore refused to let her go.
Elena went anyway.
Thomas drove.
Clare came with her.
Two federal agents followed at a distance.
Matteo was 64 and thin, with Salvatore's eyes.
The moment he saw Elena, he dropped the book in his hands.
“Alessia.”
“My name is Elena.”
He nodded.
Tears filled his eyes.
“I know.”
She did not sit.
“Why?”
Matteo's explanation was uglier because it was ordinary.
Jealousy.
Salvatore had inherited control of the family company.
Matteo believed he deserved half.
Vittorio Russo promised him money and influence if he provided information about Salvatore's movements.
Matteo never believed they would take Alessia.
When they did, he panicked.
He tried to undo it.
But Vittorio had already decided the child was more useful dead than alive.
“Sofia saved you,” Matteo said.
“You didn't.”
“No.”
“You let my mother spend the rest of her life wondering whether I was dead.”
Matteo began crying.
“Yes.”
Elena felt no satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
“You could have told them.”
“I was afraid.”
“I was 3.”
He bowed his head.
That ended the conversation.
Outside, Salvatore waited beside a car.
He had come despite Elena's instructions.
She expected anger.
Instead, he looked old.
“I spent decades blaming enemies,” he said. “I never looked at my own table.”
Elena touched his hand.
It was the first time she initiated contact.
“You found me.”
“Too late.”
“No.”
She looked at her stomach.
“Before your grandson.”
Salvatore smiled through tears.
It lasted only seconds.
Elena doubled over.
Thomas caught her.
This time, the contractions did not stop.
By the time they reached Manhattan, Elena was 4 centimeters dilated.
Rachel's expression told everyone what words did not.
The baby was coming.
Marco arrived 20 minutes later.
His arm remained in a sling.
Security blocked him.
Elena heard the argument from inside the delivery room.
“Let him in,” she whispered.
Rachel stared at her.
“You're sure?”
“No.”
But she let him in anyway.
Marco approached wearing hospital scrubs.
He looked terrified.
“I can leave.”
Elena grabbed his hand as another contraction hit.
“Too late.”
For the next 6 hours, there was no mafia.
No shipping empire.
No betrayal.
No Marino.
No Russo.
Only a frightened mother trying to bring a premature child safely into the world.
Marco stayed beside her.
He did not make promises.
He did not ask forgiveness.
He simply held her hand.
At 8:43 p.m., their son was born.
Too small.
Too quiet.
Elena waited for a cry.
None came.
Doctors moved quickly.
“What is happening?”
No one answered immediately.
Marco's face went white.
Then—
A tiny cry.
Elena sobbed.
Marco pressed his forehead against her hand.
Their son weighed 4 pounds, 2 ounces.
He needed respiratory support.
But he was alive.
“What are you naming him?” Rachel asked.
Elena looked at Marco.
Once, they had agreed on Marco Jr.
That child belonged to another marriage.
Another life.
“Henry,” Elena whispered.
After the father who had raised her.
Marco's eyes filled.
“Henry Salvatore Belandi.”
Elena looked toward the doorway.
Salvatore stood outside.
The old man's face crumpled.
Elena nodded.
He entered.
Salvatore looked at his grandson through the incubator.
“So small.”
Thomas smiled.
“So were you once.”
“Never.”
For the first time, everyone laughed.
Even Elena.
But the happiness did not erase consequences.
Three days later, while Henry remained in the NICU, Elena filed for divorce.
Marco signed without contest.
Then he signed another document.
Restoring Elena's original 14 percent equity.
Clare stared at him.
“You understand this is worth hundreds of millions?”
“Yes.”
“And you're admitting the original transfer was fraudulent?”
“Yes.”
Elena studied him.
“Why?”
Marco looked through the NICU glass at Henry.
“Because one day he's going to ask what kind of man his father was.”
His voice broke.
“I'd like the answer not to be completely terrible.”
It did not earn forgiveness.
But it was the first decent thing Marco had done without expecting something in return.
Then the board called.
Belandi Maritime was collapsing.
Lenders were freezing credit.
Russo financing had disappeared.
European partners were walking.
Marco had one proposal.
Merge with Marino Global Shipping.
Salvatore refused instantly.
Elena surprised everyone.
“No.”
They looked at her.
She stood beside her son's incubator.
“We don't merge.”
Marco frowned.
“What, then?”
Elena looked from her husband to her father.
May you like
“We take it over.”
And for the first time, Salvatore Marino smiled at his daughter like he recognized himself.
