The words on the page blurred.

The child she gave birth to isn’t dead.

I looked at Sophie. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her dark hair falling in waves, the blue ribbon still tied neatly at the bottom of her braid.

“Wait,” I stammered, looking at Luca in horror. “Vanessa is… Sophie’s mother?”

“No,” Luca snapped, a sudden, fierce protectiveness flaring in his eyes. “Sarah was her mother. In every way that mattered.”

He paced the room, running a hand through his dark hair.

“Twelve years ago, Vanessa got pregnant by a rival boss,” Luca explained rapidly. “Carlo Bellini was enraged. It would have ruined his reputation and his alliances. He forced Vanessa into hiding.”

He stopped pacing and looked at the blue ribbon in Sophie’s hand.

“When the baby was born, Carlo ordered the child to be disposed of. Sent away. He told Vanessa the baby died of a fever in the night.”

“But she didn’t,” I whispered.

“No. Sarah found out. She couldn’t let an innocent baby be thrown to the wolves. Sarah took the child. She claimed she was pregnant, went away for months to a private estate, and brought Sophie home to me. I raised her as my own.”

I looked at the little girl on the bed. She was a Bellini by blood, but a Moretti by love.

“Does Vanessa know?” I asked.

“She must have figured it out,” Luca said. “That’s why she suddenly wanted to marry me. She didn’t want an alliance. She wanted access to the house. She wanted to take her daughter back.”

Sophie looked between us, her lower lip trembling violently.

“Dad? Am I not yours?”

Luca crossed the room in two strides. He dropped to his knees in front of her and pulled her into a fierce, desperate hug.

“You are a Moretti,” he said fiercely, his voice cracking. “You are my daughter. You will always be my daughter. Blood doesn't make a father, Sophie. Love does.”

He stood up, his eyes burning with a dark, dangerous resolve.

“Vanessa thinks she can use this secret to take her away. She thinks I’ll back down to avoid a war with Carlo.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

“Marco,” Luca said into the phone, his voice turning to ice. “Tell Carlo Bellini I am coming to his estate. Alone. And tell him if he values his life, he will have his daughter waiting in the library.”

He hung up and looked at me.

“Take Sophie and your mother to the basement vault. Lock it from the inside. Do not open it for anyone but me.”

“Luca, you can’t go alone,” I pleaded, grabbing his arm. “It’s a trap.”

“It’s not a trap, Claire,” he said softly, handing me his secure keycard. “It’s an execution.”

He turned toward the door, but stopped.

From the hallway, a slow, methodical clapping echoed in the silence.

We both froze.

Vanessa walked into the doorway, holding a silver revolver. She pointed it directly at my chest.

“You’re right, Luca,” she smiled, a crazed look in her eye. “It is an execution. But you’re not the one giving the orders.”

She pulled the hammer back with a sharp click.

“Drop the gun, Luca. Or I blow your housekeeper’s heart out.”

Before Luca could move, a third voice echoed from the stairs behind Vanessa.

“Put the gun down, Vanessa.”

It was my mother.

And she was holding the shotgun my father used to keep under their bed, aimed directly at Vanessa’s head.

TITLE: The Choice at the Airstrip