Chapter 5 - The Test Someone Tried to Destroy
Luca ran.
I stayed with Matteo.
Every instinct told me to follow.
Every better instinct told me not to abandon the baby.
Marco locked the nursery door from the outside and stationed an armed officer beside it.
Three minutes later, Luca returned.
His face was colorless.
“Genevieve?”
“Alive.”
“What happened?”
“Someone fired through the study window.”
“Was she hit?”
“No.”
“Who fired?”
“We don't know.”
He crossed to the crib and checked Matteo as if needing proof his son still existed.
Then I remembered the envelope.
“The test.”
His jaw tightened.
He handed it to me.
PATERNITY PROBABILITY: 0%.
I looked at the result.
Then at Luca.
“I don't understand.”
“Neither do I.”
“Matteo isn't your biological son?”
“He is.”
“You're certain?”
“I was there when he was conceived.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
“That isn't how certainty works.”
His eyes met mine.
“My wife and I used IVF.”
That changed things.
“Matteo was created from our embryos.”
“Your wife?”
“Isabella.”
It was the first time he had said her name.
I knew she had died.
Everyone at the estate knew that much.
“She died three months after Matteo was born,” he continued.
“I’m sorry.”
“Car accident.”
He looked back at the test.
“She never saw him become sick.”
“You think the test is fake.”
“Yes.”
“Why make it?”
“I don't know.”
Dr. Keller entered.
“Let me see.”
He examined the paper.
“This lab exists.”
“Could the result be manipulated?”
“Of course.”
“Could there have been an embryo mix-up?”
Luca's face hardened.
Keller answered carefully.
“Rarely. But possible.”
“Then we do another test.”
“Yes.”
“Now.”
Blood samples were taken.
Luca insisted on witnessed chain of custody.
Detective Monroe agreed.
Nobody wanted another mystery.
Meanwhile, police processed the gunshot.
The shooter had fired from beyond the estate wall.
One round.
Through glass.
The bullet struck the wall inches above where Genevieve had been sitting.
Warning shot?
Failed assassination?
Nobody knew.
Genevieve was moved to a secure guest room.
She asked for Luca.
He refused.
At first.
Then changed his mind.
I did not go with him.
But when he returned forty minutes later, something had shifted.
“What did she say?”
He sat down.
“That Bell introduced her to Natalie five years ago.”
“Why?”
“Genevieve's husband was dying from pancreatic cancer.”
I had not known she had been married.
“Natalie helped him enter an experimental pain trial.”
“Did it help?”
“For a while.”
“So Genevieve trusted her.”
“Yes.”
“And Bell?”
“Bell handled foundation grants for the research.”
There it was.
The connection.
“What happened to Genevieve's husband?”
“He died.”
“Did Natalie do anything wrong?”
“Genevieve doesn't know.”
“But she stayed in contact?”
“Occasionally.”
“Until Matteo got sick.”
Luca nodded.
“Natalie contacted her claiming Bell had asked her to provide specialized home nursing.”
“And Genevieve allowed it.”
“She believed she was helping.”
I sighed.
“So they used her trust.”
“Maybe.”
“You still don't believe her?”
“I don't know what to believe.”
That had become the most honest sentence in the house.
By evening, investigators discovered that the Rossi Children's Medical Foundation had paid millions to three research companies.
All three had connections to Dr. Bell.
One was legitimate.
One had closed two years earlier.
The third existed only on paper.
Its registered address was a mailbox in Delaware.
Its director?
Natalie Crane.
Luca read the report in silence.
“How much?”
Damien answered.
“Seven point four million over four years.”
“And nobody saw this?”
“The grants were divided across multiple programs.”
“I signed them.”
“You signed foundation summaries.”
“I signed them.”
Damien did not argue.
That was the problem with people around Luca.
They feared contradicting him.
I did not.
“You signed what people you trusted put in front of you.”
His eyes snapped toward me.
“That doesn't remove responsibility.”
“No. But responsibility is not the same as intention.”
He stared.
Then nodded once.
Progress.
The real paternity test came back after midnight.
Probability of paternity:
99.9998%.
Matteo was Luca's son.
Luca read the paper once.
Then folded it carefully.
“Why create the fake one?”
Detective Monroe had an answer.
“To challenge Matteo's inheritance rights.”
Luca looked at her.
“Explain.”
“If he were declared not your biological child—”
“He is legally mine either way.”
“Yes. But depending on trust language, biological status may affect certain distributions.”
Damien pulled up documents.
The Rossi family trust had been created by Luca's grandfather.
Old money.
Old rules.
If Luca's only biological descendant died before age one, a large portion of family assets shifted to a charitable holding structure.
Controlled temporarily by trustees.
Genevieve.
Dr. Bell.
And one seat that had been vacant since Isabella died.
Detective Monroe frowned.
“Who appoints the vacant trustee?”
Luca looked at Damien.
Damien searched.
Then went pale.
“The two remaining trustees.”
Meaning Genevieve and Bell.
If Matteo died, Bell and whoever he controlled could gain enormous influence over hundreds of millions of dollars.
Not ownership.
Influence.
Access.
Contracts.
Grants.
Enough.
“This isn't about forty million,” Damien said.
“No,” Luca replied.
“It is about the family trust.”
“How much?”
Luca stared at the screen.
“Approximately eight hundred million.”
Nobody spoke.
Suddenly the elaborate plan made terrible sense.
Make Matteo sick.
Create a medical decline.
Convince Genevieve it was inevitable.
Introduce drugs that could cause a fatal cardiac event.
When Matteo died, it would look like the end of a mysterious illness.
Then use the false paternity test to trigger trust provisions faster.
The only problem was me.
I had picked Matteo up.
He vomited.
His condition improved.
Luca walked in.
The plan cracked.
But one question remained.
“Why tonight?” I asked.
“What?”
“The cooler said final dose tonight.”
Detective Monroe nodded.
“Good point.”
Dr. Keller answered.
“Because after tonight, I planned to move Matteo to the hospital.”
Luca looked at him.
“You never told me.”
“I told Bell.”
Every face in the room changed.
Keller continued.
“I asked him to arrange an ICU bed tomorrow morning because I was no longer comfortable managing Matteo here.”
“So Bell knew their window was closing.”
“Yes.”
Luca stood.
“Find him.”
Police had already gone to Bell's house.
Empty.
Office.
Empty.
Phone off.
Airport alert issued.
Passport flagged.
At 1:18 a.m., Bell's vehicle was located in a hospital parking deck.
Security cameras showed him entering.
None showed him leaving.
Police began searching floor by floor.
At the estate, Matteo improved steadily.
His oxygen requirement dropped.
He drank a small amount of formula.
He even smiled once.
Maybe gas.
Luca insisted it was a smile.
I did not argue.
He needed that victory.
Around three, I stepped into the kitchen for coffee.
Damien was there.
“You should sleep,” he said.
“Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“Because you look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I meant exhausted.”
“That is not much better.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“You saved Matteo.”
“I picked him up.”
“You disrupted the timing.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“It is to Luca.”
I poured coffee.
“He almost shot me.”
“He wouldn't have.”
“He had a gun pointed at my head.”
“He was terrified.”
“That is not a legal defense.”
Damien laughed despite himself.
Then stopped.
“Elena.”
“What?”
“Be careful around him.”
“Luca?”
“No.”
He looked toward the hallway.
“Everyone.”
Before I could ask what he meant, his phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His face changed.
“What?”
“Bell.”
“Where?”
“He just logged into the foundation account.”
“From where?”
Damien started typing.
Then stopped.
“No.”
“What?”
“The IP address is inside the estate.”
My blood ran cold.
“That can't be.”
“It is.”
“You said Bell was at the hospital.”
“His car was.”
We stared at each other.
Then every light in the kitchen went out.
Emergency lights came on two seconds later.
Red.
Dim.
A security alarm chirped once and died.
Damien grabbed my arm.
“Go to Matteo.”
We ran.
Halfway upstairs, my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
DON'T GO INTO THE NURSERY.
I stopped.
Damien nearly collided with me.
“What?”
I showed him.
His face changed.
Then we heard Luca shouting from above.
“Elena!”
I ran.
The nursery door was open.
The officer stationed outside lay unconscious on the floor.
The crib was empty.
Luca stood in the center of the room.
In his hand was a single white card.
May you like
Three words were written across it.
BRING THE TEST.
