Chapter 8 — The Enemy Who Saved Her
Chapter 8 — The Enemy Who Saved Her
“Lorenzo, RUN!”
Isabella's voice came through the darkness.
Then the first gunshot exploded.
Lorenzo dropped instinctively.
The bullet struck the wall above his head.
Emma screamed.
“Stay down!”
Lorenzo reached for her.
The baby began crying.
Another shot.
Gabriel fired toward the opposite corridor.
“Move!”
Lorenzo grabbed Emma with one arm and the newborn with the other.
He ran.
Behind him, men shouted.
Footsteps thundered across the basement.
A door slammed.
Then another.
“Where?”
Gabriel pointed.
“Left!”
They disappeared into a narrow passage.
Lorenzo could barely see.
Emma clung to his coat.
“Daddy!”
“I've got you.”
“The baby!”
“I've got her too.”
The newborn's cries grew louder.
Lorenzo's heart pounded.
He had never held her before.
He didn't know her name.
Didn't know her birthday.
Didn't know what she liked.
Didn't even know whether she was truly his daughter.
But when her tiny fingers closed around his thumb—
something inside him broke.
He knew.
A father didn't need paperwork to recognize his child.
He simply knew.
They reached a steel door.
Gabriel slammed his shoulder into it.
Nothing.
“It's locked.”
Lorenzo looked behind them.
Lights appeared in the corridor.
“They're coming.”
Gabriel pulled a key from his pocket.
“Stand back.”
He inserted it.
The door opened.
They rushed inside.
Gabriel locked it.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Emma was crying silently.
Lorenzo crouched beside her.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Did they hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did anyone touch you?”
She shook her head again.
“Mommy protected me.”
Lorenzo looked up.
“Where is Isabella?”
Emma pointed toward the door.
“She was here.”
“When?”
“Before you came.”
“What happened?”
“She told me to hide.”
“Where?”
Emma pointed at the newborn.
“With her.”
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
“You were hiding the baby?”
Emma nodded.
“She said bad people wanted her.”
“Who?”
Emma shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Lorenzo looked at Gabriel.
“Do you?”
Gabriel didn't answer.
Lorenzo stood.
“Gabriel.”
His brother stared at the baby.
“Yes.”
“You know who wants her.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Everyone.”
The steel room had once been a medical storage area.
Shelves lined the walls.
Old boxes filled the corners.
But someone had recently converted it into a safe room.
There were blankets.
Water.
Medicine.
Baby formula.
A portable heater.
And photographs.
Hundreds of them.
Lorenzo picked up the first.
Isabella.
Pregnant.
The second.
Isabella holding Giulia.
The third.
Isabella holding Emma.
The fourth—
Lorenzo stopped.
The photograph showed a newborn baby.
The same child now sleeping in his arms.
On the back was written:
Baby Three.
No name.
No date.
No father.
Just three words.
DO NOT REGISTER.
Lorenzo's stomach tightened.
He looked at Gabriel.
“Who wrote this?”
Gabriel said nothing.
Lorenzo turned the photograph over.
There was a signature.
A single initial.
V.
“Victoria?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
Gabriel looked toward the ceiling.
“Your father.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Why would he hide his own granddaughter?”
“Because she was never supposed to exist.”
“That's not enough.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“She was born with something your father feared.”
“What?”
“A name.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“A name?”
Gabriel nodded.
“The name she was given at birth belonged to someone else.”
“Who?”
“Your grandfather.”
Lorenzo went still.
“What?”
Gabriel pointed at the baby.
“Your grandfather had a secret identity.”
Lorenzo's face hardened.
“What identity?”
Gabriel whispered:
“Matteo Bellini.”
Lorenzo's heart stopped.
Again.
Always Matteo.
The name that appeared everywhere.
The House of Swallows.
The hidden archive.
The woman in red.
The missing records.
The third baby.
“You're telling me my grandfather was Matteo Bellini?”
“No.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“Your grandfather wasn't Matteo.”
“Then why does that name keep appearing?”
“Because Matteo was his first son.”
Lorenzo stared.
“My grandfather had two sons.”
“Yes.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“And Matteo.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did everyone think Matteo was dead?”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Because your father killed him.”
Silence.
Lorenzo stared.
“Why?”
“Because Matteo wanted to expose the family.”
“So the House of Swallows—”
“Was his creation.”
Lorenzo looked down at the baby.
“And this child?”
“Matteo's blood runs through her.”
“Because he's my grandfather's son.”
Gabriel nodded.
“And because her mother was—”
He stopped.
Lorenzo looked at him.
“Who?”
Gabriel didn't answer.
The door behind them opened.
Lorenzo spun.
Isabella stood there.
Blood stained the sleeve of her dress.
Lorenzo rushed toward her.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Where were you?”
“Trying to stop them.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
Lorenzo stared.
“He's here?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“He's looking for the baby.”
Lorenzo held the newborn closer.
“Why?”
Isabella's eyes filled with fear.
“Because he knows what she is.”
“What?”
“The heir.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“To what?”
Isabella looked at him.
“The House of Swallows.”
Lorenzo couldn't believe it.
“She's a baby.”
“I know.”
“Then why would anyone care about her?”
“Because the Swallows don't belong to one person.”
“What does that mean?”
“The archive isn't just records.”
“Then what is it?”
Isabella looked at Gabriel.
He answered.
“Leverage.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Against whom?”
“Everyone.”
Gabriel walked toward the shelves.
He pulled out a black ledger.
“This contains names.”
“Names of criminals?”
“Politicians.”
He opened another.
“Judges.”
Another.
“Police commanders.”
Another.
“Businessmen.”
Lorenzo understood.
“The Swallow Archive has dirt on everyone.”
“Yes.”
“And whoever controls it controls them.”
“Exactly.”
Lorenzo looked at the baby.
“And she inherits it?”
“Legally,” Isabella said.
“Why?”
“Because Matteo wrote the original succession clause.”
Lorenzo's expression hardened.
“And my father wants her dead.”
“He wants control.”
“Same thing.”
“Not exactly.”
Isabella looked toward the baby.
“He doesn't want to kill her.”
“Then what?”
“He wants to make her disappear.”
Lorenzo understood.
No birth record.
No name.
No identity.
No legal claim.
If the baby disappeared, the inheritance would become impossible to enforce.
The archive could be seized.
The Swallows could be destroyed.
And the DeLuca family would win.
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
“How long have you known?”
“Since before the crash.”
“You knew the baby would inherit the archive.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my father wanted her gone.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Gabriel was involved.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Rico was involved.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about Emma.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was being manipulated.”
Isabella looked down.
“Yes.”
Lorenzo's voice became quiet.
“And you still didn't trust me.”
She looked at him.
“I trusted you.”
“Then why?”
“Because I didn't trust what they had made you.”
Lorenzo stared.
“What does that mean?”
Isabella took a breath.
“Your father didn't just control the family.”
She touched her temple.
“He controlled you.”
Lorenzo went still.
“How?”
“Medication.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“When you were twenty-four.”
“I don't remember.”
“Exactly.”
She walked closer.
“After your father's assassination attempt, you spent three weeks in the hospital.”
“I remember.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You remember what they told you.”
Lorenzo stared.
“What really happened?”
“Your father ordered Dr. Moretti to administer a drug.”
“Why?”
“To suppress certain memories.”
“What memories?”
“Your first wife.”
Lorenzo's breath caught.
“The woman in the red coat.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Her name was Elena.”
He froze.
The name from the coffin.
“Elena.”
Isabella nodded.
“She was your first wife.”
Lorenzo's chest tightened.
“You said she died.”
“She didn't.”
“Where is she?”
Isabella looked away.
“She is the woman in the red coat.”
Silence.
Lorenzo couldn't breathe.
“The woman who shot Victoria.”
“Yes.”
“The woman who took Emma.”
“Yes.”
“The woman who knows about my past.”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Why did she save Emma?”
“Because Emma is her daughter.”
He stopped.
“Emma?”
Isabella nodded.
“Your first wife had your daughter.”
Lorenzo's mind went blank.
“The third baby.”
“No.”
Isabella shook her head.
“Emma was born three years ago.”
“Then why is she connected to Elena?”
“Because Elena raised her.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Then who is the baby?”
Isabella looked at the newborn.
“Your second daughter.”
Lorenzo swallowed.
“Giulia?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Isabella whispered:
“She has no name.”
Lorenzo looked down.
The baby slept peacefully.
“So Emma is my first daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And this baby is my second.”
“Yes.”
“And Giulia…”
Isabella's face crumpled.
“Giulia was Clara's daughter.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
The woman who had been presented as his daughter.
The child he had buried.
The child he had mourned.
None of it had been what he thought.
He had been grieving inside a story written by other people.
He looked at Isabella.
“Then where is Clara?”
“Dead.”
Lorenzo's face tightened.
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“Who killed her?”
Isabella didn't answer.
Lorenzo already knew.
“Your father.”
A loud explosion shook the building.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Emma screamed.
Lorenzo pulled her close.
Gabriel grabbed the baby.
“They're inside.”
Isabella looked toward the door.
“How?”
“There's another entrance.”
Gabriel drew his weapon.
“How many?”
“Too many.”
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
“Where can we go?”
She pointed toward the wall.
“There.”
A hidden panel opened.
Behind it was a narrow tunnel.
“Where does it lead?”
“The river.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“Move.”
They entered.
Gabriel stayed behind.
Lorenzo turned.
“You coming?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“Someone has to slow them down.”
“No.”
“Go.”
“Gabriel—”
His brother smiled.
“For once, let me do something right.”
Lorenzo stared at him.
Then nodded.
“Don't die.”
Gabriel laughed.
“I'll try.”
The panel closed.
The tunnel was narrow.
Wet.
Cold.
Emma held Lorenzo's hand.
Isabella carried the newborn.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Emma looked up.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Is Mommy angry with you?”
Lorenzo glanced at Isabella.
She was walking ahead.
“I don't know.”
Emma thought about it.
“She isn't.”
“How do you know?”
“She cries when you're gone.”
Lorenzo's heart tightened.
He looked at Isabella.
She didn't turn.
“Mommy loves you.”
Lorenzo whispered:
“I know.”
Then Emma asked:
“Are you going to leave us again?”
Lorenzo stopped.
“No.”
“Promise?”
He crouched.
“I promise.”
Emma smiled.
“Good.”
She hugged him.
For the first time in eight months, Lorenzo felt something other than grief.
Hope.
Fragile.
Terrifying.
Real.
They reached the river.
A small boat waited.
Lorenzo helped Emma aboard.
Isabella followed.
Then the baby.
He looked back toward the tunnel.
Gabriel hadn't emerged.
“Wait.”
Isabella grabbed his arm.
“Lorenzo.”
“He's still inside.”
“He chose to stay.”
“I'm not leaving him.”
A gunshot echoed from the tunnel.
Then another.
Lorenzo turned.
“Gabriel!”
No answer.
Isabella pulled him toward the boat.
“We have to go.”
Lorenzo resisted.
Then the tunnel exploded.
Fire rushed toward them.
He jumped into the boat.
The engine roared.
They sped into the darkness.
Twenty minutes later, they reached an abandoned warehouse.
Lorenzo carried Emma inside.
Isabella followed.
The baby slept.
For a few minutes, it was quiet.
Then Lorenzo turned to Isabella.
“No more lies.”
She nodded.
“No more.”
“Who is the baby?”
Isabella looked at her.
“I don't know.”
“You said she's mine.”
“She is.”
“Then why doesn't she have a name?”
“Because giving her one would create a legal record.”
“And that would expose her.”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo walked closer.
“Then give her a name now.”
Isabella looked at him.
“What?”
“A name.”
“Lorenzo—”
“She deserves one.”
Isabella's eyes filled with tears.
“What would you call her?”
He looked down at the baby.
For eight months he had called his lost daughter Giulia.
A name that now belonged to another family.
He needed something new.
Something that belonged only to this child.
“Hope.”
Isabella smiled through tears.
“Hope?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone told me she was dead.”
He touched the baby's cheek.
“But she wasn't.”
Emma leaned over.
“I like Hope.”
Lorenzo smiled.
“Then Hope it is.”
Isabella whispered:
“Hope DeLuca.”
The baby opened her eyes.
Lorenzo laughed softly.
Then the warehouse doors opened.
A man walked inside.
Lorenzo immediately reached for his gun.
But the man raised his hands.
“It wasn't Gabriel.”
Lorenzo stared.
“What?”
The man stepped into the light.
Rico.
Blood covered his shirt.
“Your brother is alive.”
Lorenzo lowered his weapon.
“Where is he?”
“Captured.”
“By whom?”
Rico looked at Isabella.
“Your father.”
Lorenzo's face hardened.
“Where?”
Rico hesitated.
Then:
“The old DeLuca estate.”
Isabella went pale.
“No.”
“What?”
“He knows about Hope.”
Lorenzo stared.
“How?”
Rico swallowed.
“Because someone told him.”
“Who?”
Rico looked toward Emma.
Then toward the baby.
Finally, he looked at Lorenzo.
“The woman in the red coat.”
Lorenzo's blood ran cold.
“Elena.”
Rico nodded.
“She made a deal.”
“With my father?”
“Yes.”
“What deal?”
Rico's voice dropped.
“She would give him the location of the Swallow Archive…”
He paused.
“…if he promised to let Emma live.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Why would she trade the archive for Emma?”
Rico looked at him.
“Because Emma is her daughter.”
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
“And Hope?”
Rico shook his head.
“She doesn't care about Hope.”
“Why?”
“Because Hope isn't her daughter.”
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
Isabella was crying.
“Then whose daughter is Hope?”
No one answered.
The baby began to cry.
Lorenzo picked her up.
And then he noticed something.
A tiny mark behind her left ear.
A swallow.
But beneath the swallow was a second symbol.
A crown.
Lorenzo stared.
Isabella saw it.
Her face went white.
“No.”
“What?”
She touched the mark.
“This can't be.”
“Why?”
“Because that symbol belongs to only one bloodline.”
“Which one?”
Isabella looked at him.
“The royal family.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“There hasn't been a royal family in Italy for generations.”
“Not Italy.”
She looked toward the baby.
“Europe.”
Silence.
Lorenzo stared at Hope.
“Who is she?”
Isabella whispered:
“The last heir of a dynasty that disappeared twenty-five years ago.”
The warehouse fell silent.
Then the lights outside went off.
All of them.
Rico drew his gun.
Lorenzo pulled Emma behind him.
Isabella held Hope close.
A voice came through the darkness.
“Give me the baby.”
Lorenzo recognized it.
His father's voice.
“I will give you one chance.”
The lights came back on.
His father stood at the warehouse entrance.
Behind him were armed men.
And beside him—
Gabriel.
Alive.
Bleeding.
His hands tied.
Lorenzo raised his weapon.
His father smiled.
“You finally understand.”
Lorenzo's voice was cold.
“Understand what?”
His father pointed at Hope.
“She isn't your daughter.”
Lorenzo stared.
His father continued:
“She is the reason your entire family was built.”
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
She couldn't meet his eyes.
His father smiled.
“And now, Lorenzo…”
He took one step forward.
“…you must decide whether you are going to save the child…”
His gaze shifted to Emma.
“…or the woman who has been lying to you.”
Then the woman in the red coat stepped from behind him.
Elena.
She looked directly at Lorenzo.
And whispered:
“Choose carefully.”
Because this time, there would be no empty coffin.
No fake death.
May you like
No second chance.
Someone was going to die before sunrise.
