Chapter 3 - Gabriel’s Secret
I didn’t sleep.
At three in the morning, I stood beside Renata’s bed watching her breathe.
People like to believe enormous truths arrive dramatically.
They don’t.
Sometimes they arrive quietly, while a child sleeps beneath a Christmas quilt and snow falls against the window.
Renata might be Gabriel’s daughter.
My niece.
My parents’ biological granddaughter.
The same people who had spent years calling her an outsider might have known she carried the blood they worshipped.
That possibility made their cruelty harder to understand, not easier.
At seven, Nathaniel Mercer arrived at the estate.
He wasn’t alone.
A woman named Dr. Claire Bennett accompanied him.
She specialized in forensic genealogy for inheritance disputes.
We met in my study.
My father joined us voluntarily.
My mother refused.
Paola claimed she had a migraine.
Dr. Bennett opened a folder.
“We have limited information because portions of Renata’s original records remain sealed. But we have enough to establish a timeline.”
She showed me a photograph.
Gabriel and Elena.
I hadn’t seen Elena’s face in more than a decade.
Dark hair.
Warm smile.
She stood beside my brother outside a restaurant in Brooklyn.
“They were together for approximately eighteen months,” Dr. Bennett said.
“I knew they dated.”
“Your mother strongly opposed the relationship.”
My father looked ashamed.
“That’s an understatement.”
I turned to him.
“What happened?”
He took a breath.
“Carmen believed Elena’s family wasn’t suitable.”
“Meaning they weren’t wealthy.”
“Yes.”
“Meaning they weren’t DeLucas.”
He didn’t answer.
Dr. Bennett continued.
“Gabriel apparently intended to marry Elena.”
I looked at my father.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mom?”
“Yes.”
Of course she did.
“What happened?”
My father rubbed his face.
“Your mother offered Elena money to leave.”
My jaw tightened.
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
“Did she take it?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“Then why did she disappear?”
My father looked toward the window.
“Because Carmen threatened her.”
“With what?”
“Gabriel’s future. Your mother said she would convince your grandfather to disinherit Gabriel if Elena stayed.”
“And Gabriel?”
“He didn’t know.”
I stood.
My father continued quickly.
“Elena left without telling him why. Gabriel became reckless afterward. Drinking. Driving too fast. Fighting with everyone.”
The accident.
I remembered the call.
The rain.
The wrecked Aston Martin.
Gabriel dying before I reached the hospital.
“You’re saying Mom helped cause what happened.”
“I’m saying she spent thirteen years wondering whether she did.”
Dr. Bennett slid another document toward me.
“Elena gave birth seven months after Gabriel’s death.”
The baby’s name had originally been listed only as Baby Girl Moretti.
“Was there a father listed?”
“No.”
“What happened to Elena?”
“She developed complications after childbirth. Her health declined. For several years, her sister Teresa helped raise the child.”
The name hit me.
Teresa Moretti.
Renata’s guardian.
The woman I had known through the foundation.
The woman who died when Renata was two.
I sat down slowly.
“She was Elena’s sister?”
“Yes.”
I had never known.
“Where was Elena?”
Dr. Bennett hesitated.
“She died when Renata was fourteen months old.”
My throat tightened.
Renata had lost her mother before she could remember her.
Then she lost Teresa.
And somehow she ended up with me.
“Did Teresa know who I was?”
My father answered.
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“How?”
“Because I contacted her.”
Everything stopped.
“You what?”
My father’s voice trembled.
“I found Elena after Gabriel died. I learned about the pregnancy.”
“Mom knew?”
“No. Not then.”
I stood so quickly the chair moved backward.
“You knew Renata existed before I adopted her?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“From whom?”
He looked toward the hallway.
I understood.
My mother.
“You let me believe I randomly met Teresa.”
“It wasn’t entirely random.”
I stared at him.
He had arranged it.
Maybe not directly.
But he had quietly guided Teresa toward my foundation.
Toward me.
“Why?”
“Because Elena was dying,” he said. “She wanted one thing.”
“What?”
“She wanted her daughter protected from the DeLuca family.”
I actually laughed.
A cold, empty sound.
“And your solution was to put her with me?”
“You were different.”
“Then why not tell me?”
“Because Elena made me swear.”
Dr. Bennett placed a sealed copy of a statement on the desk.
“She left instructions.”
I read them.
If anything happened to Elena, Teresa would raise Renata.
If Teresa became unable to care for her, Elena wanted Mauricio DeLuca considered as guardian.
Not Salvatore.
Not Carmen.
Me.
I stared at Elena’s signature.
She had chosen me years before I knew Renata existed.
“Why me?”
My father smiled sadly.
“Gabriel talked about you constantly. Elena believed you were the only DeLuca who understood that family was something you chose every day.”
I couldn’t speak.
Then another thought came.
“If Mom didn’t know, when did she find out?”
My father’s expression changed.
“Two years ago.”
That matched the timeline.
Two years ago, my parents began treating Renata differently.
At first subtly.
Forgotten birthday invitations.
Different gifts.
No framed photographs.
Then worse.
“Who told her?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathaniel spoke.
“We may.”
He removed a financial report.
“Your sister received a transfer two years ago from a private investigator named Leonard Voss.”
“What did he investigate?”
“Renata.”
Paola.
Again.
“Why?”
Nathaniel looked at me.
“Because your grandfather’s trust created a second problem.”
I waited.
“If Renata is Gabriel’s biological daughter, she could possess two separate inheritance claims.”
My pulse slowed.
“One through me because she’s legally my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And one through Gabriel.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Nathaniel hesitated.
“If both claims survive court review, Renata could eventually control approximately sixty-one percent of the voting shares in DeLuca Holdings.”
I understood everything.
This wasn’t simply about money.
It was control.
My mother and Paola had spent their lives assuming Sofia and Emma represented the future of the family.
Then they discovered that the child they considered an outsider could legally control the entire empire.
My phone buzzed.
A security alert.
Motion detected in my Manhattan townhouse.
Impossible.
The house was supposed to be empty.
I opened the surveillance app.
A man wearing gloves moved through my home office.
He wasn’t stealing electronics.
He was opening drawers.
Searching files.
Then he found the locked cabinet containing Renata’s adoption documents.
My blood went cold.
I called security.
But before I could finish, Nathaniel pointed toward the screen.
“Pause it.”
I did.
The intruder’s sleeve had moved upward.
A tattoo showed on his wrist.
My father went pale.
“You know him?”
He nodded.
“His name is Anthony Caruso.”
“Who is he?”
My father looked toward the door again.
“He used to work for your mother’s side of the family.”
“What does he want?”
My father whispered, “Probably the same thing Carmen has wanted since she learned the truth.”
May you like
I waited.
“To make sure no document survives proving Renata belongs to this family.”
