Chapter 3 - The Bloodline Nobody Told Me About
I left the hospital twelve hours later against medical advice.
Not because I was healthy.
I could barely stand without assistance.
Not because Dominic thought it was safe.
He argued with three doctors and lost.
I left because Victor Costa had my mother.
Pain medication could dull bullet wounds.
Nothing could numb that.
Dominic moved me to a private estate north of the city.
Calling it a house would have been ridiculous.
The property sat behind iron gates and stone walls, surrounded by trees and armed guards.
I rode there in an armored SUV with Dominic beside me.
Neither of us spoke for twenty minutes.
Finally I said, “Tell me everything.”
He looked out the window.
“Not in the car.”
“Why?”
“Because there are things I need to show you.”
“That answer is getting old.”
His eyes met mine.
“So is almost watching you die.”
That silenced me.
Not because it was romantic.
Because his voice cracked.
Barely.
But I heard it.
At the estate, Isabella was waiting.
So was Father Michael.
And on the dining-room table sat a wooden box.
Dominic opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Letters.
Newspaper clippings.
A birth certificate.
My birth certificate.
I stared at it.
Clara Marie Bennett.
Mother: Ellen Bennett.
Father: David Bennett.
Nothing strange.
Then Dominic placed another document beside it.
An older birth registration.
My mother.
Elena Maria Costa.
Parents: Antonio and Lucia Costa.
Sibling listed in accompanying family records:
Victor Antonio Costa.
My uncle.
I sat down.
“My mother changed her name.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Isabella took the chair across from me.
“I knew Ellen.”
I looked up sharply.
“What?”
“I knew her when she was young.”
Dominic hadn’t told me that.
Isabella continued.
“She was seventeen when I first met her. Victor was already becoming dangerous.”
“What does that mean?”
“The Costa family had legitimate businesses. Restaurants, import companies, shipping interests. But Victor wanted something else. Power.”
She looked at Dominic.
“Our families became connected through business.”
Dominic placed another photograph down.
My mother at approximately twenty.
Beside her stood a handsome young man.
Not my father.
I knew David Bennett’s face from childhood photographs.
This man was different.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
And his eyes—
I looked at Dominic.
Then back at the photograph.
“No.”
Dominic said nothing.
“No.”
The man looked like him.
Not exactly.
But enough.
“Who is that?”
Isabella’s voice softened.
“My oldest son.”
I stared.
“Dominic’s brother?”
“Matteo.”
I looked at Dominic.
He had turned toward the window.
“Matteo Rossi and your mother were in love.”
I couldn’t speak.
“They planned to leave New York together,” Isabella continued. “Victor refused to allow it.”
“Why?”
“Because marrying Ellen into the Rossi family gave Victor leverage. But Ellen and Matteo didn’t want the alliance. They wanted out.”
My pulse hammered.
“What happened?”
Dominic answered this time.
“Matteo died.”
“How?”
“Car explosion.”
“When?”
He looked at me.
“Twenty-six years ago.”
The room disappeared around me.
I was twenty-six.
“No.”
My voice sounded very far away.
Dominic placed a final photograph on the table.
My mother.
Pregnant.
Standing beside Matteo.
“No.”
I pushed the chair back.
Pain tore through my side.
Dominic moved forward.
“Don’t touch me.”
He stopped.
I stared at the photograph.
“My father was David Bennett.”
Isabella’s eyes filled.
“David was a good man.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She looked down.
“David married Ellen after she fled New York.”
I shook my head.
“He raised me.”
“Yes.”
“He was my father.”
“In every way that mattered.”
“But biologically?”
Silence answered.
I looked at Dominic.
Understanding came slowly.
Horribly.
“You knew.”
He didn’t lie.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Three weeks.”
Three weeks.
Before the shooting.
Before the ballroom.
Before he said I was new.
My stomach twisted.
“You recognized me?”
“No. Not immediately.”
“But you knew my name?”
“Not until after you spoke to my mother.”
“What?”
Isabella frowned.
Dominic explained.
“Mother mentioned you reminded her of someone. I had Enzo check the catering list.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You investigated a waitress because your mother thought she looked familiar?”
“I investigate anything that feels wrong.”
“And what did you find?”
“Your mother.”
“Then?”
“Your birth date.”
“Then?”
“The hospital record.”
“Then you knew I was Matteo’s daughter.”
“Yes.”
My eyes burned.
That meant—
I calculated.
“You’re my uncle.”
Dominic’s expression shifted.
“No.”
“What?”
“Matteo was my half brother.”
“That still makes you—”
“Not biologically.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
This family apparently had more secrets than walls.
“What now?”
Dominic took a long breath.
“My father had Matteo before he married my mother.”
“So you were raised as brothers.”
“Yes.”
“But not blood brothers through Isabella.”
“No.”
“Then why does that matter?”
“It doesn’t.”
“It clearly does.”
Dominic looked away.
I suddenly understood the discomfort in Isabella’s face.
“There's more.”
Neither answered.
“Of course there’s more.”
Dominic finally sat opposite me.
“Matteo may not have been your biological father.”
I stared.
My mind refused to process another sentence.
“What?”
“Victor believed he was.”
“Believed?”
“Your mother disappeared before anyone could confirm.”
“Then who—”
“I don’t know.”
I stood.
“Enough.”
“Clara.”
“I said enough.”
I walked toward the hallway.
Pain screamed through my side.
But anger carried me farther than medicine could.
Dominic followed.
“You need to rest.”
“I need my mother.”
“We’re going to get her.”
“We?”
“Yes.”
“You married me without permission, investigated me, hid my family from me, and now you think we’re a team?”
He stopped.
“No.”
I turned.
“No?”
“I think you hate me.”
“At least we agree.”
“But Victor has Ellen, and right now I’m your best chance of bringing her back.”
I hated that he was right.
That night, Dominic’s intelligence team traced a call from one of Victor’s properties.
An abandoned Catholic school in Brooklyn.
Victor wanted a meeting.
Just Dominic.
And me.
Enzo objected immediately.
“It’s a trap.”
“Obviously,” Dominic said.
“You’re not taking her.”
“I’m sitting right here,” I snapped.
Dominic looked at me.
“You’re not going.”
“My mother is there.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m going.”
“No.”
I stood slowly.
“Try stopping me.”
For a second, something unexpected appeared in his expression.
Respect.
“Your mother was exactly like that.”
The comparison hurt.
We went.
The abandoned school smelled like dust and rain.
Dominic’s men secured the perimeter.
Victor had demanded we enter alone.
I walked beside Dominic through a corridor lined with faded children’s drawings.
We reached the old gymnasium.
One light burned overhead.
Victor Costa stood beneath it.
He was in his early sixties, silver-haired, beautifully dressed, and disturbingly calm.
Behind him sat my mother.
Tied to a chair.
“Mom!”
She lifted her head.
“Clara!”
I moved forward.
Dominic caught my arm.
Victor smiled.
“There she is.”
I looked at him.
He studied my face with something almost tender.
“My sister’s daughter.”
“Let her go.”
“In time.”
“You shot me.”
His smile faded.
“No.”
I froze.
“The gunman was yours.”
“He used to work for me.”
“Then who ordered it?”
Victor looked at Dominic.
“That is the question she should be asking.”
Dominic’s body went rigid.
Victor continued.
“The man who fired at Isabella was supposed to kill Isabella. Your presence was not part of the plan.”
“So why are you hunting me now?”
“Because after you were shot, Dominic did something foolish.”
“The ring.”
“Yes.”
Victor looked almost amused.
“He announced to every family in this city that Clara Bennett mattered to Dominic Rossi.”
My mother shouted, “Don’t listen to him!”
Victor ignored her.
“He created your value.”
Dominic said quietly, “Release Ellen.”
Victor looked at him.
“Tell Clara why Matteo died.”
Silence.
My heart began pounding.
“Dominic?”
“Not here.”
Victor laughed.
“Still protecting the family story?”
“Shut up.”
“Tell her who planted the bomb.”
Dominic moved forward.
Victor’s guards emerged from the shadows.
Guns raised.
My mother started crying.
“Clara, don’t—”
I stared at Dominic.
“Who killed Matteo?”
He didn’t answer.
Victor did.
“Dominic’s father.”
The words landed like stones.
I looked at Isabella’s son.
“Your father killed mine?”
Dominic’s eyes were full of something I couldn’t name.
“He ordered the explosion.”
“Why?”
Victor smiled.
“Because Matteo discovered what Carlo Rossi had done to your real father.”
Everything stopped.
“My real father?”
Victor nodded.
“Matteo loved Ellen enough to raise another man’s child.”
My mother screamed.
“Victor!”
He looked at her.
“You’ve hidden it long enough.”
I turned toward her.
“Mom?”
Her face collapsed.
“I wanted to protect you.”
“From what?”
Victor stepped closer.
“From the reason Dominic knew exactly who you were before those bullets were fired.”
Dominic reached for me.
I moved away.
“Tell me.”
Nobody spoke.
I screamed.
“Tell me!”
Finally my mother whispered a name.
“Gabriel DeLuca.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Victor smiled.
And I knew I was about to hear the secret that had terrified Dominic from the moment he identified me.
My mother looked at me through tears.
“Gabriel DeLuca was your biological father.”
I waited.
There had to be more.
There was.
Victor leaned closer.
May you like
“And twenty-six years ago, Gabriel left behind evidence that could destroy the Rossi empire.”
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