Chapter 13 - The Bloodline Nobody Expected
I heard the words.
But they made no sense.
Sofia was already a Moretti.
I looked at my father.
He had gone pale.
“Dad?”
He didn’t answer.
That terrified me more than Marianne’s accusation.
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
Tears filled his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
No.
That phrase.
The universal warning that someone was about to destroy another piece of my life.
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Do not say you’re sorry.”
“Sofia.”
“Say she’s lying.”
He couldn’t.
The courtroom disappeared.
Everyone disappeared.
Only Gabriel remained.
The father I had mourned for twelve years.
The father who had hidden while I married a man chosen to manipulate me.
The father who had supposedly created M-17.
And now he could not tell me I was his biological daughter.
“Who is my father?”
My voice barely worked.
Gabriel looked toward Luka.
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
Luka looked equally horrified.
Gabriel shook his head.
“Not Luka.”
Relief came too fast.
Then shame followed.
Of course not.
The ages made no sense.
“Then who?”
Gabriel looked at Adrian.
No.
My entire body went cold.
“Adrian?”
“No.”
Gabriel answered quickly.
Thank God.
“Then who?”
Marianne spoke.
“Carlo Moretti.”
Luka’s father.
The man who raised him.
The man who had died when Luka was sixteen.
The room seemed to tilt.
“That would make me…”
I looked at Luka.
“Carlo’s daughter.”
Marianne nodded.
“And Luka is Adrian’s biological son.”
“So Luka and I aren’t biologically related.”
“No.”
“And Daniel?”
“Daniel is Lucia and Carlo’s biological son.”
I stared.
“Then Daniel is my half-brother.”
The courtroom exploded.
Judge Harper slammed her gavel.
My stomach revolted.
I turned.
Claire grabbed a trash bin just in time.
I vomited.
Humiliation didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered.
Daniel looked like he had been shot.
“No.”
He whispered.
Marianne covered her face.
Gabriel stared at the floor.
I wiped my mouth.
Then looked at Daniel.
“My husband.”
He looked sick.
“We didn’t know.”
“No.”
He shook his head violently.
“I swear to God.”
“We didn’t know.”
The horror on his face looked real.
For once, I believed him completely.
If Daniel was Carlo’s biological son and I was Carlo’s biological daughter, then we shared a father.
My marriage itself had been built on a genetic secret.
My skin crawled.
I looked at Isabella.
Panic hit.
“Is she okay?”
Claire understood instantly.
“She is Luka’s biological daughter.”
“Not Daniel’s.”
“Right.”
“No genetic relationship between you and Luka through Carlo.”
“Right.”
“Then Isabella is okay.”
“Yes.”
I could breathe again.
Barely.
Judge Harper cleared the courtroom for a recess.
Cameras were barred.
Attorneys gathered.
I went into a private conference room.
Gabriel followed.
“Get out.”
“Sofia.”
“Get out.”
“Please.”
“Did Mom know?”
He stopped.
That answer was enough.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“From the beginning.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Who was my mother?”
“Evelyn.”
“Biologically?”
“Yes.”
“At least one parent was real.”
His face flinched.
I regretted the cruelty.
Not enough to apologize.
“How did it happen?”
Gabriel sat.
I remained standing.
“Evelyn and I had difficulty conceiving.”
“Again with fertility.”
“Yes.”
“We used Meridian.”
“Carlo was your friend.”
“Yes.”
“Did he donate?”
“No.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Then how?”
“Richard Cross substituted Carlo’s sample.”
My stomach turned.
“Why?”
“We learned later he was testing whether unauthorized genetic substitution could be hidden.”
“So I was an experiment.”
“No.”
“That is exactly what I was.”
“To Richard, maybe.”
Gabriel’s voice broke.
“Never to me.”
I looked away.
“When did you find out?”
“You were six.”
“How?”
“Routine blood testing.”
“And Carlo?”
“He learned too.”
“Did he want me?”
The question escaped.
I hated how young I sounded.
Gabriel’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
That hurt worse.
“He wanted to meet you.”
“Did he?”
“Once.”
I stopped.
“When?”
“You were eight.”
Memory flashed.
A tall dark-haired man at a charity picnic.
He gave me a wooden puzzle box.
He told me I had clever hands.
I had forgotten him.
“Was that Carlo?”
“Yes.”
“Luka was there?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because by then we knew Adrian was watching all of us.”
“So everybody loved me from a distance.”
I said bitterly.
“That was convenient.”
Gabriel lowered his head.
“I deserve that.”
“No.”
“You deserve worse.”
He accepted it.
That made anger harder.
“Why did you create the trust?”
“Carlo and I created it before we knew the truth.”
“For future children?”
“Yes.”
“We thought one day our families might merge through business or marriage.”
“Not literally planned?”
“No.”
“It was symbolic.”
“Then when you learned I was Carlo’s daughter?”
“We amended it.”
“How?”
“The trust would activate if a Bennett-raised daughter of Moretti blood had a child with the legal Moretti heir.”
I frowned.
“Legal Moretti heir?”
“Luka.”
“But biologically he’s Adrian’s.”
“Carlo adopted him at birth.”
“Legally his son.”
“Yes.”
“So Isabella qualifies.”
“Yes.”
“Because I’m Carlo’s biological daughter and Luka is Carlo’s legal son?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds insane.”
“It is old trust law.”
“Why would you keep it?”
“Because Adrian wanted Meridian.”
“Carlo and I used the trust to lock him out.”
“So Isabella now controls six hundred million dollars.”
“Closer to nine hundred.”
I stared.
“Of course it got worse.”
Gabriel almost smiled.
I didn’t.
“What did Marianne change?”
“She turned a passive genetic trigger into an active donor substitution.”
“Why?”
Gabriel’s face hardened.
“That is what she needs to explain.”
We returned to court.
Marianne had stopped crying.
She looked exhausted.
Claire questioned her.
“Did you alter M-17?”
“Yes.”
The admission shocked everyone.
“Why?”
“Because Adrian had already selected another donor.”
“Who?”
“Richard Cross.”
My blood froze.
Judge Richard Cross.
“Why?”
“Adrian wanted a child genetically tied to Cross blood but legally tied to Daniel.”
“Then what?”
“I changed the donor to Luka.”
“Without consent.”
“Yes.”
“You committed reproductive fraud.”
“Yes.”
“Why call that saving Sofia?”
Marianne looked at me.
“Because Richard carried a hereditary cardiomyopathy mutation.”
My heart pounded.
“Adrian didn’t care.”
“He only cared that the baby qualified enough to challenge the trust.”
“So you substituted Luka instead.”
“Yes.”
“You decided who fathered my child.”
Her face collapsed.
“Yes.”
I wanted to hate her cleanly.
But her reason complicated everything.
She had violated me to avoid a worse violation.
That did not make it acceptable.
It made it tragic.
“You could have told me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Adrian would have killed you.”
“Everyone says that.”
“Because he tried.”
The room silenced.
“When?”
“Eleven weeks.”
“The attempted termination.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“Your car accident at twenty-three.”
I froze.
I had been sideswiped.
Minor injuries.
Daniel had been frantic.
“Adrian arranged that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You had discovered a locked folder in Daniel’s office.”
I remembered.
I had thought it contained financial documents.
Daniel told me it belonged to his father.
Two days later, the accident.
“How many times?”
I whispered.
Marianne looked down.
“Five.”
My hands went cold.
Five attempts.
My entire adulthood had been staged on a minefield.
Judge Harper ordered Marianne’s testimony preserved.
Then federal investigators entered.
Not local police.
Federal.
Gabriel had contacted them before coming to court.
Finally, something felt larger than Cross influence.
Adrian was asked to remain.
He refused.
Agents blocked the door.
His face remained calm.
“You have no arrest warrant.”
“Not yet.”
An agent replied.
“But we have a material witness order.”
Adrian smiled.
“Then I’ll cooperate.”
Too calm.
I didn’t trust it.
Claire’s phone buzzed.
She read the message.
Her face changed.
“What?”
I asked.
“Protective order granted.”
Relief hit.
“Against Adrian?”
“Richard.”
“Whitcomb.”
“Cross Biomedical personnel.”
“And Isabella?”
“Temporary sole custody to you.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Luka exhaled beside me.
Daniel lowered his head.
It should have felt like victory.
Then another agent entered.
He whispered to the lead investigator.
The lead agent looked toward Gabriel.
“Mr. Bennett.”
“Yes?”
“We need to discuss the Albany storage unit.”
Daniel stood.
“What happened?”
The agent’s face was grim.
“It was emptied twenty minutes ago.”
“By who?”
“Security footage shows Vanessa Cole.”
My stomach dropped.
Vanessa.
The woman who came barefoot to Luka’s gate.
The woman who claimed she wanted to help.
The woman who had been under protection.
She had disappeared.
And she had taken every original Meridian donor file.
Then my phone received a text from her.
I’M SORRY.
A second message followed.
ADRIAN HAS MY SON.
I stared at the screen.
Vanessa had never told us she had a child.
And below the message was a photograph.
A little boy.
May you like
About six years old.
Standing beside Adrian Cross.
