“And Mia?”

She said nothing.

He already knew.

He had probably seen the medical form Elena had submitted when she started working there.

“AB negative,” he said.

Elena’s fingers turned cold.

Lorenzo was AB negative too.

That proved nothing by itself.

But it was another piece.

And Lorenzo Moretti had built an empire by noticing pieces other people overlooked.

He rose.

“I want a DNA test.”

“No.”

The answer came instantly.

His eyes flashed.

“No?”

“She’s not evidence in one of your investigations.”

“She may be my daughter.”

“She is my daughter.”

“And possibly mine.”

Elena stepped closer.

“You don’t get to storm into her life because biology suddenly interests you.”

“I didn’t storm into anything. You brought her into my house.”

“I didn’t know this was your house when I accepted the position.”

That stopped him.

Lorenzo stared.

Elena realized what she had admitted.

“You didn’t know?”

“The household agency never gave me the owner’s full name. They said the position was for the Moretti estate. Do you know how many Morettis live in New York?”

“Not many in houses like this.”

“I needed the job.”

“And when you saw me?”

“I almost left.”

“But you stayed.”

“I needed health insurance. I needed a place where Mia could stay with me when childcare fell through. Mrs. Caruso said staff children were allowed in the service wing.”

Lorenzo looked at her for a long moment.

“You recognized me immediately.”

“Yes.”

“And you said nothing.”

“What was I supposed to say? Good morning, Mr. Moretti. By the way, three years ago we spent one night together and there’s a possibility my daughter is yours?”

“A possibility?”

Elena’s eyes filled.

Daniel’s face appeared in her memory.

His crooked smile.

His ridiculous coffee mugs.

The way he had held newborn Mia and whispered, You’re mine because I choose you.

“There was never a test,” Elena said.

Lorenzo’s voice became quieter.

“Did Daniel know?”

“Yes.”

That answer seemed to hit him harder than everything else.

“So another man knew there was a chance Mia was mine.”

“He knew there was a chance biologically.”

“And he raised her.”

“Yes.”

“While I knew nothing.”

“You were fighting a war.”

“You could have found me.”

“I tried.”

Silence.

Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.

“What does that mean?”

Elena immediately regretted saying it.

“I sent a letter.”

“When?”

“January, after Mia was born.”

“To whom?”

“To you.”

“I never received a letter.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“Because someone returned it.”

Lorenzo’s expression changed.

“Who?”

Elena hesitated.

She had carried the name for three years.

A name Daniel had begged her never to repeat.

Before she could answer, Mia tugged Lorenzo’s sleeve.

He looked down.

“Daddy?”

Elena closed her eyes.

Lorenzo did not correct her.

Instead, he slowly offered his hand.

Mia wrapped her fingers around one of his.

The sight nearly broke Elena.

Then Lorenzo noticed something beneath the collar of Mia’s yellow dress.

A thin silver chain.

His face went white.

“Where did she get that?”

Elena instinctively reached for Mia.

Too late.

Lorenzo gently lifted the pendant from beneath the fabric.

A small silver medallion rested in his palm.

A lion beneath a crown.

The Moretti crest.

Only members of Lorenzo’s immediate family had ever owned one.

His father had commissioned four.

One for himself.

One for Lorenzo.

One for Lorenzo’s mother.

And one for Lorenzo’s younger brother, Adrian.

Adrian had been dead for four years.

Lorenzo looked at Elena.

“Where did you get my brother’s medallion?”

Elena’s lips parted.

Before she could answer, a voice came from behind them.

“I think,” Marco Bellini said from the doorway, pale as stone, “we finally know why Adrian died.”

And for the first time since Mia had entered the room, Lorenzo looked truly afraid.