Chapter 4 - The Name That Could Start a War
Dante sat down.
Bianca had never seen him do that because his legs could no longer hold him.
He lowered the phone.
Marco stared.
“What did she say?”
Dante looked toward Leo’s room.
Then at Bianca.
“Bellini.”
Bianca froze.
“Rafael?”
Dante nodded.
“Rafael Bellini is Leo’s biological father.”
Marco swore.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
The implications arrived one by one.
Bellini had mocked Bianca.
Bellini’s men had attacked her.
Bellini had broken into the Costa home.
And Bellini was Leo’s father.
“Did he know?” Bianca asked.
Dante brought the phone back to his ear.
“Mama?”
The connection was gone.
He called back.
Disconnected.
Marco immediately started tracing it.
Bianca sat opposite Dante.
“Tell me what makes sense.”
“None of it.”
“Try.”
Dante stood.
He paced.
“Sofia hated Bellini.”
“Maybe she didn’t always.”
The suggestion hurt.
But it made sense.
Dante remembered years before Michael.
Sofia at twenty.
Bellini young, ambitious, reckless.
Dante had been building the Costa empire.
Rafael often came to the house.
Sofia laughed more then.
He had ignored it.
God.
How much had he ignored?
“If Leo is Bellini’s son,” Bianca said, “why did Sofia marry Michael?”
“To protect Leo.”
“From Rafael?”
“Maybe.”
Dante’s face darkened.
“Michael may have discovered Bellini’s crimes because he was already trying to protect Sofia.”
Marco looked up from his laptop.
“The number came from a prepaid phone near O’Hare.”
“Find her.”
“Already trying.”
Bianca touched Dante’s arm.
“You can’t go into tonight angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
She gave him a look.
“Dante.”
He looked down at her hand.
“I’m terrified.”
That honesty silenced her.
“Of what?”
“That Bellini has legal proof.”
“Of paternity?”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“If he presents it publicly, he can claim I kidnapped his son.”
“You didn’t.”
“Truth doesn’t matter first. Perception does.”
Bianca understood.
“And if powerful people believe you kept his child from him…”
“He gets leverage.”
She looked toward Leo.
“Would he want custody?”
Dante’s eyes hardened.
“He wants control.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No man who frightens a four-year-old to send a message wants to be a father.”
Bianca could not argue.
By evening, the Costa household became a fortress.
Dante wore black.
Bianca changed into a simple dark green dress borrowed from a cousin because her sweater had been ruined.
She hated the idea of dressing for Bellini.
Dante understood.
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I’m not.”
She adjusted an earring.
“I’m reminding myself who I am.”
Dante looked at her reflection.
“And who is that?”
“A woman who walked away once.”
She turned.
“And can do it again.”
He took the warning.
They left Leo under Marco’s protection.
Dante personally checked every guard.
Before leaving, Leo ran to Bianca.
“Bia.”
She knelt.
“I’ll be back.”
He handed her the silver bracelet.
L.E.O.
Bianca stared.
Dante had found it in the dining room.
Leo closed her hand around it.
“Keep.”
Bianca put it on.
Dante watched.
Something settled in him.
At the Chicago Opera Club, hundreds of guests filled the marble ballroom.
Business leaders.
Politicians.
People whose money had never been clean enough to ask how it was protected.
Conversations quieted when Dante entered.
Bianca walked beside him.
Not behind.
Exactly as promised.
Bellini stood near the stage.
He smiled.
“There she is.”
Dante stopped.
“If you speak to her directly, this evening ends early.”
Bellini’s smile widened.
“How protective.”
Bianca interrupted.
“You weren’t very impressive when your man had to jump a woman alone in the rain.”
Nearby guests turned.
Bellini’s smile slipped.
Dante almost smiled.
“Careful,” Bellini said.
“No,” Bianca replied. “You be careful.”
The room changed.
Bellini had expected shame.
Bianca gave him none.
He stepped onto the stage.
A microphone waited.
Dante realized too late.
Bellini planned theater.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Rafael announced, “for years Chicago has believed Dante Costa is a loyal brother, a loyal uncle, perhaps even an honorable man.”
Dante’s expression remained blank.
Bellini lifted a folder.
“Tonight, I brought evidence that he stole a child.”
Whispers spread.
Bianca’s stomach dropped.
Rafael held up a DNA document.
“Leo Moretti is my biological son.”
Phones appeared.
People recorded.
Dante stepped forward.
Bellini continued.
“His mother, Sofia Costa, concealed him from me. Her brother continued that lie after her death.”
“That’s false,” Dante said.
Rafael smiled.
“DNA isn’t.”
“No. Your story is.”
Bellini’s face tightened.
Dante looked toward the crowd.
“I learned about the paternity today.”
That surprised everyone.
Including Rafael.
“You expect them to believe that?”
“I don’t care what they believe tonight.”
Dante turned toward Bianca.
She realized he had made a decision.
He stepped away from the stage and took her hand.
Gasps.
Bellini’s expression sharpened.
Dante looked directly at the cameras.
“For six months, Bianca Ferraro has cared for Leo when every doctor, specialist, and relative failed to reach him.”
Bianca whispered.
“Dante…”
He continued.
“Last night, Rafael Bellini insulted her in my home. I chose silence because I believed pretending she did not matter would protect her.”
Bellini scoffed.
Dante looked at Bianca.
“I was wrong.”
The ballroom became quiet.
“I let another man humiliate someone under my protection because I was afraid of showing weakness.”
Dante’s voice hardened.
“That mistake ends here.”
Bellini laughed.
“Your protection?”
Dante turned.
“Yes.”
He moved closer to Bianca.
“Before every family in this city, before every man who thinks kindness makes someone weak, hear me clearly.”
Bianca’s heart pounded.
Dante did not claim ownership.
He did something far more dangerous.
He claimed responsibility.
“Bianca Ferraro is not furniture. She is not disposable. She is not leverage.”
His eyes met hers.
“She is family.”
The room erupted in whispers.
Bellini’s face changed.
“You’re declaring war over a nanny?”
“No.”
Dante looked at him.
“I’m declaring that your war already started when you sent men after her.”
Bellini smiled coldly.
“You have no proof.”
A voice came from the back of the ballroom.
“I do.”
Everyone turned.
An elderly woman stood near the doors.
Elegant.
Silver-haired.
Alive.
Dante stopped breathing.
“Mama.”
Elena Costa walked into the room.
Cameras swung toward her.
Bellini went pale.
Elena stopped before the stage.
“I watched Rafael Bellini destroy my daughter’s life once.”
Bellini stepped backward.
“That woman is lying.”
Elena opened her handbag.
“No.”
She pulled out an old cassette recorder.
“I have been waiting seven years to let Chicago hear the truth.”
She placed it on the table.
Dante reached for her.
But before Elena could press play, a gunshot cracked through the ballroom.
The recorder shattered.
May you like
Elena fell.
And somewhere across the city, Marco’s phone began ringing beside Leo’s empty bed.
