Z

Dominic punched Adrian.

Not because the words were insulting.

Because for one second they sounded possible.

Adrian hit the floor.

Agents grabbed Dominic.

Mara shouted his name.

Dominic stepped back immediately.

Old reflex.

Old shame.

Adrian touched his bleeding lip.

“Interesting.”

“Say it again.”

“Antonio Vascari was not your biological father.”

Dominic stared.

“You’re lying.”

“Probably what Antonio told himself.”

Sofia’s voice came from the stairs.

“No.”

Everyone turned.

She had arrived with Klein’s second team.

Dominic stared at his mother.

“You knew?”

She looked devastated.

“Not until after you were born.”

Dominic felt the ground shift beneath him.

“Who?”

Sofia closed her eyes.

“Gabriel Marchesi.”

Nobody spoke.

Dominic laughed.

He had heard absurd family revelations before.

This one was different.

Marchesi.

The man who poisoned Antonio.

Threatened Mara.

Tried to destroy Matteo.

“My biological father was Gabriel Marchesi.”

Sofia whispered.

“Yes.”

Dominic walked away from everyone.

Mara followed.

“Dominic.”

“Don’t.”

She stopped.

He faced the wall.

For years, identity had been stripped from him piece by piece.

Brother.

Mother.

Father.

Family.

Now even his blood belonged to the man he hated most.

“How?”

Sofia spoke from behind him.

“Before Antonio.”

Dominic did not turn.

“You were with Marchesi.”

“I was nineteen.”

“Did Antonio know?”

“Before our wedding.”

“And he married you anyway.”

“Yes.”

Dominic turned slowly.

“Why?”

Sofia cried.

“Because he loved me.”

Those words hurt more than anything.

Antonio had known Dominic might not be his.

Raised him anyway.

Protected him.

Died searching for Sofia.

Dominic sat down.

“He was my father.”

Mara knelt beside him.

“Yes.”

Not biology.

Not documents.

Not inheritance.

Choice.

The thing Mara had taught him.

Dominic looked at Adrian.

“What does this change?”

“Everything.”

Adrian stood.

“If Antonio was not your biological father, your son has no Vascari claim.”

“Bellini comes through Sofia.”

“Correct.”

“So Matteo still has Bellini blood.”

“Yes.”

“Then why care?”

“Because the trust requires dual descent.”

Mara frowned.

“What?”

Adrian gestured toward the journal.

“Bellini and Vascari.”

Dominic stared.

“That was never mentioned.”

“Because everyone assumed the lines were combined through Antonio and Sofia.”

Sofia closed her eyes.

“Emilia.”

Adrian nodded.

“She rewrote the trust after the marriage.”

Dominic understood.

His son might not qualify.

Elias descended from Matteo.

If Matteo was Antonio’s biological son, Elias carried both bloodlines.

Matteo, Dominic’s son, carried Bellini blood but perhaps not Vascari.

Mara looked at Adrian.

“So Elias becomes sole heir.”

“Possibly.”

Dominic stared.

“Then why does Valentina want my son dead?”

Adrian’s expression tightened.

“She may not.”

Celeste spoke.

“I told you. Adrian needed Matteo’s DNA.”

“Why?”

Adrian looked at Dominic.

“To prove Marchesi paternity.”

Dominic froze.

“My DNA would prove that.”

“Yes.”

“Then why my son?”

“Because you refused every private medical request for years.”

Dominic almost laughed.

Reasonable.

“I could have given you a sample today.”

“But then you would know what I was testing.”

“You preferred kidnapping?”

“I never kidnapped anyone.”

Celeste looked away.

Mara turned.

“Celeste.”

She whispered.

“I agreed to go.”

Dominic stared.

“Why?”

“Adrian promised Nathan would disappear from all Bellini claims.”

“Your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Is Nathan Bellini too?”

Adrian answered.

“No.”

“Then why would he have a claim?”

“Because Nathan is my son.”

Everyone stared.

Celeste closed her eyes.

Mara looked ill.

“You told Dominic he was your brother.”

“He was raised as my brother.”

Adrian looked at Celeste.

“Our mother adopted him.”

Dominic stared between them.

“How old were you when he was born?”

Adrian answered.

“Twenty-seven.”

“And his mother?”

Adrian looked toward the floor.

“Valentina’s daughter.”

Dominic laughed once.

“This family needs to stop reproducing.”

Even Mara could not stop a shocked laugh.

The humor died quickly.

Klein stepped forward.

“Enough genealogy. We have attempted murder, arson, and possible kidnapping.”

Adrian nodded.

“And the journals identify the attacker.”

Everyone turned.

He opened the final volume.

“Page 412.”

Dominic read.

Recent handwriting.

Not Emilia’s.

A note added in another hand.

Initials.

V.S.

Valentina Serra.

Beside them, a list of payments.

Security contractors.

Private surveillance.

The hospital clerk from years earlier.

Dominic stared.

“She worked with Marchesi.”

Adrian nodded.

“For decades.”

“Why help us now?”

“To position herself near Elias.”

Mara’s face changed.

“She wants custody.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because if Isabella dies and Elias inherits, a guardian controls his interests.”

Dominic understood.

“Valentina wants the boy.”

Adrian nodded.

“And she wants my son gone.”

“Yes.”

Dominic pulled out his phone.

Called Sofia.

No answer.

He called again.

Nothing.

Mara’s face changed.

“Matteo.”

Dominic dialed Luca.

Luca’s phone rang on the table.

Everyone stared.

He had come inside with them.

The children were at the safe house with federal guards.

Klein called her team.

No response.

Her face hardened.

“Move.”

They ran.

Twenty minutes later, they reached the safe house.

Front door open.

One agent unconscious.

Another bleeding from the shoulder.

Sofia sat on the floor.

Dominic rushed to her.

“Where are they?”

She looked up in terror.

“Gone.”

“Who?”

“Valentina.”

Mara grabbed Sofia’s hands.

“Which child?”

Sofia began crying.

“Both.”

Dominic’s face went white.

“Matteo and Elias?”

“Yes.”

Sofia pointed toward the table.

A phone lay there.

It rang.

Dominic answered.

Valentina’s voice.

“Now we can finally decide which boy actually belongs to the future.”

Dominic’s hand tightened.

“If you touch them—”

“You still think threats are power.”

“Where are my children?”

“Only one is yours.”

Dominic froze.

Valentina continued.

“Bring Adrian and the journals to the old Bellini pier before midnight.”

“And the boys?”

“If you want both alive, don’t bring federal agents.”

The call ended.

Mara stared at him.

Dominic looked at the clock.

10:43 p.m.

Seventy-seven minutes.

His old life would have reached for guns.

His new one reached for Mara’s hand.

“We bring them home.”