Chapter 8 - The Last Betrayal
Elena survived.
But Marcus didn't.
His death left a vacuum.
And in the Rossi world, vacuums never stayed empty.
Within days, Lorenzo faced challenges from men who believed his weakness had been exposed.
He wanted to leave.
Not the city.
The life.
For Leo.
For me.
But leaving wasn't simple.
Too many enemies.
Too many debts.
Too many people waiting for Lorenzo to fall.
Then we discovered the final betrayal.
Daniel had kept one secret.
He had evidence proving who ordered the bombing.
A man named Victor Hale.
My father.
I stared at the file.
“No.”
Daniel looked miserable.
“He funded Marcus.”
I shook my head.
“My father died years ago.”
“He didn't.”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“He's alive.”
The world collapsed again.
We found him in a private facility outside Boston.
My father.
The man I'd believed dead.
He had orchestrated the bombing because he wanted revenge against Lorenzo's family.
But Sophia had been his daughter.
My half-sister.
I couldn't understand it.
“Why would you kill your own daughter?”
He looked at me.
“She chose Lorenzo.”
“She was your daughter.”
“She betrayed me.”
I felt sick.
“You killed her.”
“I never ordered her death.”
“You created the situation.”
He looked away.
“That doesn't matter.”
“It matters to me.”
He stared at me.
“You have no idea what the Rossi family did to us.”
Lorenzo stepped forward.
“I know.”
Victor smiled.
“You think you're innocent?”
“No.”
Lorenzo lowered his weapon.
“But I won't continue this.”
Victor laughed.
“You've changed.”
“Yes.”
“Because of her?”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“Because of them.”
He meant Leo.
He meant me.
Victor was arrested.
The Rossi organization began to collapse from within.
Lorenzo sold several illegal operations.
He closed others.
He turned legitimate businesses over to trusted managers.
And then he did something nobody expected.
He walked away.
We moved to a quiet town on Long Island.
No guards outside every door.
No black SUVs.
Just a house with a backyard.
Leo grew.
He laughed.
He crawled.
He learned to stand.
And every time he smiled, I thought of the baby I had mourned.
One evening, I found Lorenzo sitting on the porch.
“You're quiet.”
He looked at me.
“I was thinking about my father.”
“About what?”
“He believed power meant never losing.”
I sat beside him.
“And now?”
“Now I think power means knowing when to let go.”
I smiled.
“You're getting sentimental.”
“Don't tell anyone.”
We laughed.
Then he reached for my hand.
“Hunter.”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
My heart stopped.
He looked terrified.
The most feared man I'd ever known looked more nervous than any man on a first date.
“I don't expect anything.”
I smiled.
“You should.”
He blinked.
“Why?”
“Because I love you too.”
He exhaled.
Then Leo began crying upstairs.
We both laughed.
“Our timing is terrible.”
“Always.”
We ran inside together.
But that night, a package arrived.
No return address.
Inside was a photograph.
Sophia.
Pregnant.
Standing beside Margaret.
May you like
On the back were six words:
YOU NEVER FOUND THE OTHER BABY.
