Chapter 4 - The Name Gabriel Hid
Alessandro slammed his shoulder against the door.
It didn't move.
Security shouted from the opposite side.
I held Mia against my chest while Alessandro searched the room.
“Ventilation.”
“What?”
“If they're locking us in, assume the room itself may become dangerous.”
Seconds later, a sharp chemical smell entered through the vent.
Alessandro pulled off his jacket and shoved it against the opening.
“Bathroom?”
“There isn't one.”
“Water?”
A maintenance sink.
He soaked two towels.
One for me.
One for Mia.
Security broke through the door less than two minutes later.
We escaped.
The attacker didn't.
He vanished into Grand Central.
But the message remained.
Mia's biological father.
I refused to believe it.
“Gabriel was her father.”
Alessandro didn't argue.
That made me angrier.
“Say something.”
“We verify facts.”
“I don't need a test.”
“No. But whoever said that wanted a reaction.”
“From me?”
“Maybe from me.”
I stared at him.
“Why you?”
He didn't answer.
And suddenly I understood.
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No.”
He looked away.
“Alessandro.”
“My father knew yours.”
“That doesn't mean anything.”
“Gabriel worked for me.”
“That doesn't mean anything either.”
“The key was marked with your daughter's name and hidden in evidence connected to my family.”
“Stop.”
“I am trying to understand why.”
“You're not Mia's father.”
“I didn't say I was.”
“But you're thinking it.”
His silence hurt more than denial.
Back at the penthouse, we went through the ledger again.
A date caught my attention.
The day Mia had been conceived.
Beside it were initials.
A.D.
I felt sick.
“That proves nothing,” Alessandro said.
“Were you in New York?”
He looked at the date.
“Yes.”
“Did you know me?”
“Only as an employee.”
“Did we ever—”
“No.”
His answer was immediate.
“Never.”
Relief mixed with confusion.
“Then what does A.D. mean?”
“I don't know.”
We found the answer two hours later.
A.D. wasn't Alessandro Duca.
It was Aurelio Diagnostics.
A fertility laboratory.
I stared at the screen.
“I've never been to a fertility clinic.”
Alessandro called someone.
Within an hour, he had obtained records.
Aurelio Diagnostics had processed genetic testing ordered under Gabriel's name.
Not paternity.
Kinship.
The sample had been compared against a stored Duca family sample.
The probability of a biological relationship was high.
My hands shook.
“Mia is related to you.”
Alessandro stared at the report.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Then a thought struck him.
He opened an old family file.
Vittorio Duca had two sons.
Alessandro.
And another.
Luca.
His older brother.
Dead at twenty-four.
I looked at Alessandro.
“Could Gabriel have been—”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Gabriel was not Luca.”
“How do you know?”
“I buried Luca.”
“Then maybe Mia is related another way.”
Alessandro stared at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
“My brother had a child.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“A baby boy. The mother disappeared after Luca died. My father claimed the baby died weeks later.”
“Did you see him?”
“No.”
“What was his name?”
Alessandro looked at me.
“Gabriel.”
The room tilted.
“No.”
“My brother's son was Gabriel Duca.”
I sat down.
“But Gabriel's surname was Vale.”
“His mother's surname.”
“How old would your nephew be?”
“Thirty-one.”
Gabriel had been thirty-one.
I covered my mouth.
Alessandro's eyes were wet now.
For the first time since I had known him, the controlled billionaire vanished.
What remained was an uncle discovering that a child he had mourned had grown into a man beside him without either of them knowing.
“Your father lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if Gabriel lived, he inherited Luca's shares.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five percent of Duca Capital.”
I looked toward Mia.
“And now?”
Alessandro followed my gaze.
“If Gabriel was legally Luca's son…”
He didn't finish.
Mia inherited them.
Suddenly every threat made sense.
Not completely.
But enough.
My daughter wasn't being hunted because she could find my father.
She was an heir.
A very valuable one.
“Marco,” I whispered.
Alessandro's face hardened.
His uncle currently controlled the shares that should have passed through Luca's line.
If Mia's identity became public, Marco could lose billions.
“We need proof,” Alessandro said.
“We have the test.”
“Not enough. We need Gabriel's birth records.”
“Where?”
“My father kept private archives.”
“Where?”
Alessandro looked toward the far end of the penthouse.
“The old study.”
The room had been locked since Vittorio died.
Alessandro had never opened it.
We went there.
The key was still inside Alessandro's private safe.
The study smelled faintly of leather and dust.
Old books lined the walls.
A portrait of Vittorio Duca hung behind the desk.
I hated him immediately.
We searched for hours.
Nothing.
Then Mia solved it.
Again.
She had been sitting on the rug with her stuffed rabbit when she crawled toward the portrait.
Her hand slapped the bottom of the frame.
A tiny click sounded.
Alessandro and I looked at each other.
He moved the portrait.
A wall safe.
Inside were documents.
One birth certificate.
Gabriel Duca.
Father: Luca Alessandro Duca.
Mother: Sofia Vale.
My eyes filled.
Gabriel had been Alessandro's nephew.
Mia was Luca Duca's granddaughter.
And Vittorio had erased them.
Another document explained why.
A trust.
Luca's descendants would inherit controlling voting rights when the youngest surviving heir reached adulthood.
Until then, a guardian would vote the shares.
The named guardian was not Marco.
It was Alessandro.
“That's why Gabriel told me to find you.”
Alessandro nodded.
“If Mia is recognized, I control the shares until she's eighteen.”
“And Marco loses control.”
“Yes.”
A sound came from the doorway.
We turned.
Lucia stood there.
Her face was white.
“Mr. Duca.”
“What?”
“Your uncle is downstairs.”
Alessandro froze.
“He brought lawyers.”
“Why?”
Lucia swallowed.
“He says Elena kidnapped a Duca heir.”
I stood.
“What?”
“And police are with him.”
Alessandro stepped toward the door.
Then Lucia caught my arm.
Her fingers were shaking.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
She slipped a folded note into my hand.
“I found this beneath Mia's quilt.”
I opened it.
One sentence.
ELENA, DO NOT TRUST ALESSANDRO WITH THE SECOND PAGE OF THE TRUST.
I looked up.
“Who wrote this?”
Lucia shook her head.
Then footsteps approached the study.
Alessandro turned toward them.
May you like
The door opened.
And my father walked in beside Marco Duca.
