Chapter 4 - THE DOCTOR’S REPORT
The Moretti private medical suite on the third floor smelled faintly of antiseptic and expensive leather. It was equipped with state-of-the-art diagnostic machinery that rivaled any major hospital in Manhattan—a luxury afforded to a family that preferred to handle its internal affairs far away from public emergency rooms.
Dr. Vance, the family physician for thirty-five years, wiped his glasses with a pristine linen handkerchief. His hands were remarkably steady, but the silence in the room was suffocating.
Lorenzo sat in a wingback chair by the window, his fingers steepened, staring straight ahead. Marcus stood near the door, arms crossed, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. Isabella paced back and forth across the Persian rug, her heels clicking a frantic, angry rhythm against the floor.
"Well?" Isabella snapped, stopping abruptly and glaring at the doctor. "Stop wasting our time, Julian. It's a scam. Everyone knows it’s a scam. Just sign the damn paper and let security throw them out."
Dr. Vance finally put his glasses back on. He didn't look at Isabella. Instead, he looked directly at Lorenzo.
"The expedited genetic sequencing is complete, Don Moretti," Dr. Vance said, his voice measured and professional. "We ran a full mitochondrial and short tandem repeat profile comparing the child, Lily, against the DNA samples we have on file from Julian Moretti—collected during his medical physicals prior to his disappearance four years ago."
Marcus uncrossed his arms, taking a half-step forward. "And?"
Dr. Vance opened the leather folder on his desk. "The probability of biological parentage is 99.9998%. The child is Julian Moretti's legal, direct daughter."
The room seemed to drop into a vacuum.
Isabella stopped breathing. Her face turned chalk white, her fingers digging so hard into her own arms that she left crescent-shaped red marks through her silk robe. "That's... that's impossible! Julian never married! He never had children! There was no girlfriend, no secret engagement, nothing!"
"He had a secret," Lorenzo said quietly, his voice dangerously soft. He stood up slowly, every joint in his frame popping in the heavy silence. He walked over to the desk and looked down at the genetic report. "A secret someone in this house might have known about."
Marcus shot a sharp, defensive look at his father. "Father, what is that supposed to mean? Are you accusing me? I ran the corporate division while Julian was out playing sailor in the Mediterranean! I had nothing to do with his personal life!"
"Did you?" Lorenzo turned his head slowly, his pale eyes fixing Marcus in a paralyzingly cold stare. "Julian's ship didn't sink in a storm, Marcus. The coast guard report from four years ago noted that the navigational steering lines had been cleanly severed with a hydraulic cutter before departure. It wasn't an accident. It was sabotage."
Marcus stepped back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "That was investigated! The authorities ruled it an unsolved maritime incident! You can't just throw accusations around—"
"I am not throwing accusations," Lorenzo interrupted, his voice dropping into a register that made even Dr. Vance look away. "I am stating facts. And now, Julian's daughter—the sole living heir to the primary Moretti trust—has been living in the servants' quarters for four years, scrubbing floors with her mother while my eldest son's wife screams at her to get out of the house."
Just then, the adjoining recovery room door creaked open.
Rosa stepped out, holding Lily's hand. The little girl was wearing a clean pair of duck socks—having refused to take them off—and was chewing contentedly on a small piece of apple Dr. Vance had given her. Rosa looked terrified, her eyes darting between Lorenzo, Marcus, and Isabella, realizing from the heavy, suffocating atmosphere in the room that the truth was out.
"Rosa," Lorenzo said, his voice softening just a fraction as he looked at the woman who had hidden in plain sight for four years.
Rosa stiffened, pulling Lily slightly behind her skirt. "Don Moretti. I... I know the test is done. If you want us to go, we'll go. I didn't know who he was when I met him in Sicily. He told me his name was just Julian. He said his family was... complicated. By the time I found out who the Morettis were, he was already gone. And then... and then I found out I was pregnant, and the men started watching our apartment..."
Rosa’s voice broke. She dropped her gaze, her shoulders shaking. "I came here because I didn't have anywhere else to go. I wanted her to be close to her family, even if she had to be a ghost."
Isabella let out a shrill, hysterical laugh, finally snapping under the pressure. "A ghost? Oh, no! You think you've won, don't you? You think you and your bastard brat are going to waltz into this house and inherit everything? Marcus, tell him! Tell him we won't allow this filth under our roof!"
Marcus didn't answer her. He was staring at Lily—staring at the little girl who held the exact biological key to the entire Moretti fortune, a fortune Marcus had spent the last four years positioning himself to control entirely.
Lorenzo walked past Isabella as if she were a ghost, stopping two feet in front of Rosa and the little girl. He knelt down once again, ignoring the dust on the floor. He looked at Lily, who looked right back at him, unblinking, and handed him her half-eaten piece of apple.
"Here," Lily said generously.
A rare, faint ghost of a smile touched the corner of Lorenzo Moretti's scarred lips. He took the apple slice, set it gently on the table, and then reached out, taking Rosa's trembling hand and pulling her—and the little girl—forward.
"You are no longer sleeping in the service quarters, Rosa," Lorenzo announced, his voice echoing through the suite with absolute, unquestionable authority. "From this moment on, you and my granddaughter reside in the master wing."
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Isabella screamed—a sound of pure, unadulterated rage and terror—and lunged forward, but Marcus grabbed her arm, his face twisted in a dark, calculative scowl as he watched his father claim the child.
The game had changed. And the real war for the Moretti empire had just begun.
