Chapter 5 - The Secret Bloodline
The name stayed on the screen.
Luciana Moretti.
I stared at it.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Waiting for the letters to change.
They didn’t.
Dante Moretti looked at me like he had just watched the ground disappear beneath his feet.
"That name..."
His voice stopped.
I turned toward him.
"What?"
He looked away.
That scared me more than anything.
Because Dante Moretti wasn’t a man who avoided answers.
He was a man who destroyed problems.
But this time, the problem was me.
"Why do you know that name?"
Nobody answered.
The silence was the answer.
My fingers tightened around the phone showing the picture of the burned wooden box.
Luciana Moretti.
Not Elena Valenti.
Not the girl I had been my entire life.
A stranger’s name.
A stranger’s identity.
My identity.
"Tell me."
Dante looked at Marco.
Then at me.
"I need to explain."
I laughed softly.
"No."
My voice shook.
"You needed to explain ten years ago."
Dante accepted the hit.
He didn’t defend himself.
That made it worse.
"I didn’t know how."
"That’s convenient."
"No."
His eyes met mine.
"I didn’t know if you were alive."
The words stopped me.
Because for the first time, there was pain in his voice.
Real pain.
Not the controlled emotion of a powerful man.
The pain of someone who lost something.
But I was tired of feeling sorry for people who kept secrets from me.
"Who am I?"
Dante remained silent.
I stepped closer.
"Who am I?"
Marco answered instead.
"You are the last surviving member of the Moretti bloodline."
The room went completely still.
I looked at him.
Then at Dante.
"No."
Marco smiled.
"Yes."
Dante’s expression turned dark.
"Enough."
Marco ignored him.
"Your father changed your name to protect you."
"My father wasn’t a Moretti."
"He was."
I felt the floor move beneath me.
Everything I knew was breaking apart.
My childhood.
My memories.
My family.
All of it.
Marco opened another document.
"Your father was Alessandro Moretti."
Dante closed his eyes.
Like hearing that name hurt.
I noticed.
"You knew him."
Dante opened his eyes.
"Yes."
"Who was he to you?"
A pause.
Then:
"My brother."
The answer was quiet.
But it destroyed me.
My entire life had been built around missing pieces.
And suddenly everyone else had the picture.
Everyone except me.
"You’re saying my father was your brother?"
Dante nodded.
"Half-brother."
I stepped back.
"No."
The word came out automatically.
Because accepting it meant accepting everything else.
The fire.
The lies.
The disappearance.
The name.
"You knew."
Dante looked at me.
"I knew Alessandro."
"Not that."
My voice broke.
"You knew who I was."
His silence answered.
I felt something inside me crack.
"You looked at me tonight."
I pointed at him.
"You looked at me like I was a stranger."
Dante swallowed.
"Because I thought you were dead."
"But you recognized me."
He didn’t answer.
Because he did.
The second he saw me.
The second I stood in front of him.
Some part of him knew.
And he had hidden it.
"I hated you."
The words surprised even me.
Dante froze.
"I spent ten years believing my family was destroyed because people like you existed."
My eyes burned.
"I blamed you."
He lowered his head.
"I know."
"And now I find out I was connected to you the entire time?"
His voice was barely audible.
"I wanted to tell you."
"When?"
I laughed.
"When you were ready?"
Dante looked at me.
"When you were safe."
I shook my head.
"That’s what everyone says."
The room became quiet.
Because everyone who had lied to me used the same excuse.
Protection.
Safety.
A reason.
But every secret had the same result.
I was always the last person to know.
Marco watched us.
Then he placed another file on the table.
"This is why they wanted her gone."
Dante looked at him.
"What is that?"
"The inheritance documents."
I looked confused.
"What inheritance?"
Marco smiled.
"The Moretti empire."
I stared at him.
"I don’t want an empire."
"That doesn’t matter."
He tapped the folder.
"Your blood gives you ownership."
Dante immediately grabbed the file.
"She doesn’t need this."
Marco looked amused.
"You still don’t understand."
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
"Understand what?"
Marco leaned forward.
"The person who ordered the attack wasn’t trying to kill Elena."
A pause.
"They were trying to make sure she never discovered what belongs to her."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
Marco looked at Dante.
"You know."
Dante’s face changed.
A memory.
A realization.
A name.
But he didn’t say it.
"Say it."
Dante remained silent.
"Say it, Dante."
His hands clenched.
Finally, he whispered:
"Victor."
The name meant something.
I saw it.
The fear.
Not from Dante.
From everyone else.
Marco nodded.
"Victor Moretti."
The name echoed.
"Your uncle."
My blood turned cold.
"My uncle?"
Dante looked at me.
"He was Alessandro’s older brother."
"And yours?"
Dante hesitated.
"My uncle too."
I understood then.
This wasn’t just a family secret.
This was a war.
A war inside the Moretti family.
A war that started before I was born.
And I was the reason it never ended.
A sound came from outside.
Everyone turned.
Dante immediately moved in front of me.
The door opened slightly.
One of his guards entered.
His face was pale.
"Boss."
Dante looked at him.
"What happened?"
The guard swallowed.
"We found the person who accessed the old property records."
Dante’s expression hardened.
"Who?"
The guard looked at me.
Then at Dante.
"It was someone using Elena’s original identity."
My heart stopped.
"Impossible."
The guard shook his head.
"There’s more."
Dante stepped forward.
"Tell me."
The guard slowly pulled out a photograph.
"I found this inside the basement."
Dante took it.
His face changed immediately.
I moved closer.
"What is it?"
He didn’t answer.
"Dante."
Slowly, he turned the photograph toward me.
It showed a woman standing beside my father.
A woman I had never seen.
But someone who looked exactly like me.
The woman was holding a baby.
And written on the back of the photograph were five words.
The date.
The location.
May you like
And one sentence:
"Luciana was never the only child."
