Chapter 13 — The Night Luca Bellini Chose His Daughter
Chapter 13 — The Night Luca Bellini Chose His Daughter
The word stayed in the room long after the call ended.
Grandfather.
I stared at the phone.
The screen had already gone dark.
But I could still hear his voice.
Older.
Calm.
Almost amused.
The voice of the man whose funeral I had attended when I was a child.
The voice of the man whose photograph had hung above the fireplace for thirty-five years.
The voice of the man who was supposed to be dead.
Emma moved closer to me.
“Daddy?”
I looked down.
She was holding Mr. Buttons against her chest.
“I'm here.”
“Who called?”
I hesitated.
“Someone from the family.”
“Is he nice?”
I looked at the red door.
“No.”
Emma's small fingers tightened around the stuffed bear.
“Is he going to take me?”
“No.”
This time, I said it without hesitation.
“No one is taking you.”
Behind me, Helena spoke quietly.
“You don't understand what you've just started.”
I turned.
“I understand enough.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don't.”
“I know my daughter is being hunted.”
“Yes.”
“I know someone has been manipulating my medical records.”
“Yes.”
“I know my family has lied to me for thirty-five years.”
“Yes.”
“And I know the man who raised me wasn't the man I thought he was.”
Helena's expression softened.
“That's only the beginning.”
I looked at her.
“Then tell me the rest.”
She glanced toward Emma.
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Because this house isn't safe anymore.”
A gunshot exploded upstairs.
Emma screamed.
I grabbed her and dropped behind the table.
Another shot.
Then another.
Marco drew his weapon.
“Everyone down!”
The hidden room erupted into chaos.
My mother pulled Julian behind a stone pillar.
Adrian reached for a gun beneath his jacket.
I saw movement through the doorway.
A shadow.
Then another.
“Security breach!” Marco shouted.
Someone fired again.
The bullet struck the wall above my head.
Stone fragments rained down.
I wrapped both arms around Emma.
She was crying.
“Daddy!”
“I'm here.”
“I don't want to die.”
“You're not going to.”
I looked at Marco.
He was firing toward the hallway.
“Get her out.”
He nodded.
“Where?”
“Anywhere away from this house.”
“No.”
My mother stepped forward.
“I know another exit.”
She pointed toward the back wall.
“Behind the records shelves.”
Marco moved.
Adrian grabbed his arm.
“No.”
Marco looked at him.
“Move.”
“You don't know where it leads.”
“I don't care.”
Adrian's eyes went to Emma.
“If they reach that passage—”
“They won't.”
Marco shoved him aside.
He pulled a heavy shelf away.
A narrow opening appeared.
Cold air rushed through.
I lifted Emma into my arms.
“Hold on.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck.
We ran.
The passage was dark.
My shoulder screamed with every movement.
My heart hammered.
The walls seemed to close around us.
Behind me, gunfire continued.
Marco shouted instructions into his radio.
“West tunnel compromised.”
Pause.
“South entrance?”
Static.
Then:
“Clear.”
My mother followed close behind.
Julian was with her.
Rachel wasn't.
I stopped.
“Where's Rachel?”
My mother looked at me.
“She stayed upstairs.”
My blood froze.
“Why?”
“She went after Emma.”
“She knew Emma was here?”
“She found out.”
I turned back.
Marco grabbed me.
“No.”
“My daughter's mother is still in that house.”
“And there are armed men between you and her.”
“I don't care.”
“You should.”
I looked at him.
“My heart is the least important thing in this hallway.”
Marco stared at me.
“That's exactly what she wants.”
“Who?”
“The person behind this.”
He pointed toward my chest.
“They don't need a bullet.”
“They need you to panic.”
I knew he was right.
That was the problem.
Every person I loved had become a weapon pointed directly at my heart.
My father had used Emma.
Helena had used my medical condition.
Someone had used Rachel.
And now whoever was attacking the house wanted me to run blindly back inside.
I looked at Emma.
She was still in my arms.
Her face was wet with tears.
I kissed her forehead.
Then I made a decision.
“I'm not going back.”
Marco nodded.
My mother stared at me.
“Luca…”
“I choose Emma.”
Those three words changed everything.
For years, I had chosen the family.
The empire.
The rules.
The secrets.
The people who told me sacrifice was the price of survival.
Not tonight.
Tonight, my daughter came first.
The passage opened into an underground garage.
Two armored vehicles waited.
Marco opened the rear door.
“Get in.”
I placed Emma inside.
My mother climbed in beside her.
I turned toward the tunnel.
“Where are you going?” Marco asked.
“To get Rachel.”
“You said—”
“I chose Emma.”
He looked confused.
“That doesn't mean I leave her mother behind.”
I got into the driver's seat.
Marco stared at me.
“You're driving?”
“Yes.”
“You've been shot.”
“Yes.”
“Your heart—”
“Is still beating.”
He shook his head.
“You're impossible.”
“Get in.”
He climbed into the passenger seat.
We drove.
The Bellini estate burned behind us.
Not completely.
Only one wing.
Smoke poured from the upper windows.
Sirens approached from the main road.
I drove through the trees.
Emma was silent in the back.
Too silent.
I glanced at her through the mirror.
She was staring at her drawing.
The one with two faces.
“Emma.”
She looked up.
“Yes?”
“Where did you draw that?”
She pointed toward the estate.
“Here.”
“Who showed you?”
She hesitated.
“Grandpa.”
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“Which grandpa?”
She looked confused.
“The nice one.”
My blood ran cold.
“What did he look like?”
She thought.
“He looked like Daddy.”
Marco turned toward me.
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“Like me?”
Emma nodded.
“He had your eyes.”
I couldn't speak.
Marco looked at me.
“Luca…”
I raised a hand.
“Not now.”
Emma continued.
“He said you would come.”
“When?”
“Before Mommy took me away.”
“Where did he take you?”
“To the secret room.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
I nearly lost control of the car.
Marco grabbed the wheel.
“Easy.”
I corrected.
My heart monitor wasn't attached to me, but I could feel every beat.
“What did he tell you?”
Emma looked at me.
“He said Daddy would be brave.”
I swallowed.
“What else?”
“He said you would choose me.”
My eyes burned.
I looked back at her.
“I did.”
She smiled.
“I knew you would.”
We reached the safe house forty minutes later.
Rachel was already there.
Blood covered one sleeve.
She ran toward Emma.
“Emma!”
My daughter jumped from the vehicle.
“Mommy!”
Rachel dropped to her knees.
They held each other.
I stood several feet away.
For the first time, I understood what I had been missing.
Not the empire.
Not the money.
Not the power.
This.
A child running into her mother's arms.
A family that didn't need bodyguards to tell them they belonged together.
Rachel looked at me.
Her eyes were full of anger.
And relief.
“You came back.”
“I told you I would.”
“You weren't supposed to.”
“I know.”
She looked at my shoulder.
“You're bleeding.”
“It's nothing.”
“Don't lie.”
I almost smiled.
“Still a nurse.”
“Still an idiot.”
That was the closest thing to affection we'd shared in years.
Emma looked between us.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Can we stay here?”
I looked at Rachel.
She didn't answer.
I crouched beside Emma.
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“Together?”
I glanced at Rachel again.
Then nodded.
“Together.”
At 3:17 a.m., Marco woke me.
I had fallen asleep in a chair beside Emma's bed.
“Luca.”
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
“We found something.”
He handed me a tablet.
A surveillance image.
The man from the photograph.
Standing outside the safe house.
I stared.
“Who is that?”
Marco zoomed in.
My blood ran cold.
The man had my face.
Older.
Thinner.
But unmistakably similar.
“That's not possible.”
Marco nodded.
“We ran facial recognition.”
“And?”
“It came back with three possible matches.”
“Names.”
Marco hesitated.
“Adrian Moretti.”
“Not him.”
“Luca Bellini.”
I stared.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“And the third?”
Marco looked at me.
“Your grandfather.”
Silence.
I looked toward Emma's bedroom.
“He's here.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“We don't know.”
I stood.
My heart accelerated.
Marco grabbed my arm.
“Don't.”
“I need to find him.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because that's exactly what he wants.”
I looked at the screen.
The man with my face.
The man who was supposed to be dead.
“He called me.”
“What did he say?”
“Grandfather.”
Marco's expression changed.
“Anything else?”
“No.”
I thought about it.
Then remembered.
He had said:
You've been looking for me.
I hadn't been.
Not consciously.
But maybe I had been my entire life.
Every question.
Every missing photograph.
Every contradiction.
Every unexplained scar.
Every secret.
Every time someone told me my grandfather was dead, something inside me had refused to believe the story was complete.
Maybe that was why I had become obsessed with finding the truth.
Not because I wanted the inheritance.
Because some part of me had always known someone was missing.
At sunrise, Rachel joined me in the kitchen.
She placed a cup of coffee in front of me.
“You didn't sleep.”
“No.”
“Your heart?”
“Fine.”
She gave me a look.
“That's not an answer.”
“Stable.”
“Better.”
She sat opposite me.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then:
“Luca.”
“Yes?”
“I owe you an apology.”
I looked at her.
“For what?”
“For believing them.”
“You were trying to protect Emma.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
She looked down.
“They told me you were dying.”
“I almost am.”
Her eyes filled.
“I should have told you about the documents.”
“Yes.”
“I should have told you about the trust.”
“Yes.”
“I should have told you they were watching Emma.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
I looked at her.
“Why didn't you?”
“Because every time I tried to leave, someone reminded me what would happen to Emma.”
“Who?”
“Your mother.”
My jaw tightened.
“She said Adrian would take her.”
“He already did.”
“I know.”
Rachel wiped her eyes.
“I thought if I cooperated, I could keep Emma safe.”
I reached across the table.
Not touching her.
Just placing my hand near hers.
“You were trying to be her mother.”
She looked at me.
“And you were trying to be her father.”
I smiled sadly.
“Neither of us was very good at it.”
“No.”
She almost smiled.
“But we're here.”
“Yes.”
“And Emma is safe.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“For now.”
Rachel's expression changed.
“What happens next?”
I knew the answer.
“We end it.”
At 8:00 a.m., we gathered everyone.
My mother.
Adrian.
Claudia.
Helena.
Julian.
Marco.
Rachel.
And me.
The safe house had been secured.
Every entrance monitored.
No phones allowed.
No outside communication.
I placed the black folder in the center of the table.
EMMA.
Then the old photograph.
Then the trust documents.
Then my grandfather's letter.
Finally, the forged DNA report.
I looked around.
“No more secrets.”
Nobody spoke.
I looked at Adrian.
“You knew.”
He nodded.
“About what?”
“Your grandfather.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I haven't seen him in thirty years.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
Adrian looked at the photograph.
“Because I know what he's capable of.”
I turned toward Claudia.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Helena?”
She shook her head.
“I know who he is.”
“Name.”
She stared at me.
Then whispered:
“Lorenzo Bellini.”
My heart stopped.
The name meant nothing.
But Adrian reacted immediately.
His face went white.
“Don't.”
I looked at him.
“Who is Lorenzo?”
He said nothing.
Claudia answered.
“Your grandfather's twin.”
“And my real grandfather?”
“Yes.”
“Then who did I bury?”
She looked at Adrian.
“An impostor.”
Silence.
I felt dizzy.
My entire childhood had been built around a funeral for a man who wasn't there.
My memories.
The photographs.
The stories.
The grief.
All manufactured.
I looked at Adrian.
“Why?”
“Because Lorenzo wanted the empire.”
“And your father?”
“He tried to stop him.”
“So he faked his death.”
“Yes.”
“And you helped him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adrian's voice broke.
“Because I loved him.”
I stared.
That answer was almost impossible to hear.
A man who had lied for decades because of love.
A woman who had stolen an identity because of fear.
A family that had destroyed itself while claiming every decision was protection.
Then Emma appeared in the doorway.
Everyone turned.
She was holding her drawing.
“Daddy?”
I stood.
“What is it?”
She handed me the paper.
There was a new drawing.
I stared.
Three figures.
Me.
Emma.
Rachel.
Behind us was a fourth figure.
A man.
This time, he had a face.
I looked at Emma.
“Who is that?”
She smiled.
“Grandpa.”
I stared at the drawing.
The face was mine.
But older.
Much older.
I felt a chill move through me.
“Emma, did he tell you his name?”
She nodded.
“Lorenzo.”
The room went silent.
My mother began crying.
Adrian closed his eyes.
Marco whispered:
“That's impossible.”
Then every phone in the room vibrated simultaneously.
One message.
Same sender.
Same words.
YOU CHOSE YOUR DAUGHTER.
Another message appeared.
NOW I CHOOSE WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU.
Then a third.
COME TO THE HOSPITAL.
I looked at Marco.
“What hospital?”
He checked the coordinates.
His face changed.
“The hospital where you were treated after the shooting.”
My blood ran cold.
“That hospital is secure.”
“Apparently not.”
Another message arrived.
BRING YOUR HEART MEDICATION.
My chest tightened.
This wasn't about the inheritance anymore.
It wasn't even about Emma.
Someone knew exactly how to make me walk into a trap.
They knew my heart.
They knew my daughter's fear.
They knew my family.
And they knew that if they threatened the people I loved, I would come.
I looked at Rachel.
Then Emma.
Then the messages.
I had spent three years hiding from danger.
Tonight, I had finally chosen my daughter.
But choosing her meant something else.
It meant accepting that I could no longer run.
I picked up my coat.
Marco stood.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You're not going.”
“I have to.”
“That's a trap.”
“I know.”
“You could die.”
“I know.”
Rachel stepped forward.
“Then don't go alone.”
I looked at her.
“I won't.”
She reached for my hand.
This time, I took it.
Emma watched us.
Then smiled.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Bring Grandpa home.”
I looked at her.
“I will.”
But as I walked toward the door, I knew the truth.
I wasn't going to the hospital to bring Lorenzo home.
I was going to face the man who had spent thirty-five years controlling my family.
And this time, he had made one mistake.
He had given me something he never intended me to have.
A reason to stop being afraid of dying.
Because when I looked back at Emma, I finally understood.
My life had never belonged to the Bellini family.
It belonged to her.
May you like
And if Lorenzo wanted to take it from me—
he was going to have to come through me first.
