The name on the screen belonged to my mother.
Isabella Valenti.
For a moment, I genuinely thought I had read it wrong.
The letters were too familiar.
Too impossible.
My mother had been dead for four years.
I stared at the document until the words blurred.
Across the table, Elena said nothing.
She didn’t need to.
Her silence told me she had already read everything.
I leaned closer to the laptop.
The file was dated six years and three months earlier.
Three months before Elena discovered she was pregnant.
At the top was a simple heading.
PROJECT HEIR.
Beneath it were two names.
Nico Valenti.
Isabella Valenti.
And beneath those names was mine.
ADRIAN VALENTI — PRIMARY SUBJECT.
A strange pressure formed behind my ribs.
“What the hell is this?”
Elena swallowed.
“I don’t know everything.”
“You’ve read it.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
She looked toward Sophie’s bedroom.
The door was closed.
Only then did she lower her voice.
“Your mother knew about me.”
I looked at her sharply.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“She never met you.”
“She didn’t have to.”
I almost laughed.
It came out cold.
“My mother barely knew where I slept at night.
You expect me to believe she was secretly investigating a jazz pianist?”
Elena’s expression tightened.
“She knew more than you think.”
I looked back at the screen.
The first document was a surveillance report.
Photographs of Elena leaving the club.
Elena buying groceries.
Elena entering my car.
Elena kissing me outside her building.
My stomach turned.
Someone had been watching us for months.
The photographs were dated.
Catalogued.
Annotated.
At the bottom of several pages appeared the initials I.V.
My mother’s initials.
I clicked another file.
Financial records.
Payments routed through shell companies.
Private investigators.
Doctors.
Security contractors.
A genetics laboratory in Geneva.
I froze.
“What the hell does a genetics laboratory have to do with this?”
Elena’s face had gone pale.
“That’s the part I couldn’t understand.”
I opened another document.
Half the text had been deleted.
What remained was enough.
VALENTI SUCCESSION PROTOCOL.
Bloodline confirmation.
Hereditary screening.
Viability.
Psychological risk factors.
Reproductive compatibility.
My hands went cold.
“Elena.”
“I know.”
“What does reproductive compatibility mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You read it.”
“I read words, Adrian.
I didn’t understand what they were planning.”
I scrolled farther.
Then stopped.
There was a photograph of Elena.
Beside it was a medical profile.
Blood type.
Family history.
Genetic markers.
Date of birth.
Childhood hospital records.
Information no private investigator should have been able to obtain legally.
I looked at Elena.
“Did you ever give anyone this information?”
“No.”
“Doctors?”
“Of course, but—”
“Which doctors?”
She flinched at my tone.
I immediately hated myself for it.
I forced my voice lower.
“Elena.
Think.”
She wrapped her arms around herself.
“I changed doctors twice while I was pregnant.
Nico arranged the first one.”
My head snapped toward her.
“What?”
“He told me I needed someone discreet.”
“You let Nico choose your doctor?”
“I was twenty-seven, pregnant, terrified, and I believed the father of my child had abandoned me.”
Her voice cracked.
“I was surviving, Adrian.”
That shut me up.
Because she was right.
I had spent six years angry that she vanished.
She had spent six years believing vanishing was the only way to keep our daughter alive.
I turned back to the laptop.
My mother’s name remained on the screen.
A dead woman accusing me from a document I never knew existed.
I clicked the final attachment.
A scanned letter appeared.
Handwritten.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
My mother’s.
Adrian must never know until the child is confirmed.
I stopped breathing.
Below that:
If Elena Voss conceives successfully, Nico will proceed with separation.
The mother must believe Adrian rejected her.
The child must remain outside the family until Phase Two.
My vision darkened.
I read the lines again.
Then again.
The room seemed too small to contain what I was feeling.
“Elena.”
She was crying silently now.
“When did you find this?”
“Last week.”
“Where?”
“The drive was inside Benny.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Sophie’s bear.”
I stared toward the bedroom.
“That broken teddy bear?”
Elena nodded.
“My mother gave it to Sophie.”
I felt the floor vanish beneath me.
“Your mother?”
“She died two years ago.
She gave Sophie the bear just before she passed away.”
“How did your mother get this drive?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she say?”
Elena wiped her face.
“She said, ‘Keep Benny close.
One day he may protect Sophie better than I ever could.’”
I turned toward the hallway.
Benny.
One eye.
Uneven stitching.
Something hidden inside him for years.
My mother and Nico.
Elena’s mother.
Doctors.
Genetic records.
A child conceived while unseen people monitored us.
None of this had started because Elena became pregnant.
It had started because someone wanted her to.
I grabbed my phone.
Elena caught my wrist.
“Who are you calling?”
“Nico.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Adrian, no.”
I looked at her.
Her fear was immediate.
Physical.
“He knows you found the files?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then he’s going to.”
“If you confront him, he’ll destroy everything.”
“I don’t need evidence to deal with Nico.”
Her fingers tightened around my wrist.
“That sentence is exactly why they were able to manipulate you.”
I stared at her.
She didn’t look away.
“You’ve always reacted fast when someone threatens your family.”
“My family?”
“Yes.”
“You and Sophie are my family.”
The words left my mouth before I could think.
Elena’s expression changed.
So did something inside me.
For six years, there had been anger.
Now there was something heavier.
Responsibility.
Possibility.
Grief for time stolen from us.
A small sound came from the hallway.
We both turned.
Sophie stood there.
Benny tucked beneath one arm.
“You’re loud.”
Elena quickly wiped her face.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Sophie looked at me.
“You’re mad.”
“Yes.”
“At Mama?”
“No.”
She studied me.
Children are terrifyingly good judges of lies.
Apparently, I passed.
She crossed the room and climbed onto the couch.
Then she held Benny toward me.
“Do you want him?”
I stared at the bear.
“Why?”
“When I’m scared, he helps.”
My throat tightened.
I took Benny.
“Thank you.”
“He doesn’t like yelling.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Sophie leaned against Elena.
Then she looked between us.
“Are you staying for dinner?”
Elena started to answer.
“Yes,” I said.
She stared at me.
I didn’t care.
I was not leaving them.
Not that night.
Possibly not ever again.
—
Dinner consisted of pasta, half a jar of sauce, and three meatballs Elena divided between us despite my protests.
I noticed she put only a small amount on her own plate.
Sophie had accused me of letting her mother go hungry.
Now I understood why.
Elena wasn’t starving dramatically.
There were no empty cupboards and theatrical tears.
It was worse than that.
She was rationing quietly.
Skipping pieces of meals so Sophie would never realize.
That kind of hunger embarrassed no one but the person suffering it.
I ate without comment.
Then, when Sophie was distracted telling me a complicated story about a girl in school who apparently stole crayons and denied it despite being caught “with purple all over her fingers,” I opened a grocery delivery app beneath the table.
Elena noticed.
“Don’t.”
I looked at her.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re ordering food.”
“That accusation is outrageous.”
“Adrian.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I put the phone down.
“Fine.”
She relaxed slightly.
Then I texted my assistant instead.
Stock this apartment with groceries before midnight.
No logos, no staff introductions, no explanations.
Quietly.
Ten seconds later:
Understood.
Elena narrowed her eyes.
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m listening to Sophie.”
“I don’t trust that smile.”
I smiled wider.
For the first time that night, Elena almost smiled too.
And that small almost-smile hurt more than the documents.
Because I remembered it.
God, I remembered everything.
Her laughing at my suits.
Her stealing fries from my plate.
Her falling asleep against my shoulder.
Her playing the piano after the club closed while I sat in an empty room pretending I wasn’t already hopelessly in love.
Six years had been stolen.
Not lost.
Stolen.
There was a difference.
After Sophie fell asleep, I carried her to bed.
She wrapped one arm around my neck halfway down the hallway.
I stopped.
Her head rested against my shoulder.
She smelled like strawberry shampoo.
Her breathing was soft.
Trusting.
I looked at Elena.
She was standing a few feet away.
Her expression nearly destroyed me.
I put Sophie down carefully.
Pulled the blanket over her.
Then I noticed a framed photograph beside the bed.
Sophie at maybe three years old.
Missing two front teeth.
Beside her stood Elena.
Behind them was an older woman.
Elena’s mother.
I studied the photograph.
Something bothered me.
“What?”
Elena whispered.
I pointed at the picture.
“Your mother.”
“Yes.”
“She looks familiar.”
Elena frowned.
“You never met her.”
“I know.”
I leaned closer.
Then I felt the memory surface.
A funeral.
Four years ago.
My mother’s funeral.
Hundreds of people.
Politicians.
Businessmen.
Old family friends.
Security everywhere.
And a woman standing across the cemetery beyond the gates.
I had noticed her because she was crying harder than some members of my own family.
By the time I asked who she was, she had disappeared.
I turned toward Elena.
“Was your mother at Isabella’s funeral?”
Elena went completely still.
“I don’t know.”
“She was.”
“How can you know?”
“Because I saw her.”
We returned to the living room.
Elena opened the box again.
This time, I emptied everything.
Receipts.
Old SIM cards.
Photographs.
Medical reports.
Letters.
At the very bottom was an envelope neither of us had noticed.
It had been taped beneath a cardboard flap.
Elena tore it open.
Inside was a key.
Small.
Silver.
Stamped with three characters.
B-17.
And a note.
If Isabella dies before she can tell Adrian the truth, go to Saint Catherine’s.
Elena’s mother had signed it.
Mara.
My heart began pounding.
Saint Catherine’s.
I knew the name.
Everyone in my family did.
It was the private hospital where I had been born.
It had closed twenty-three years earlier after a fire destroyed the maternity wing.
Officially, no one died.
The place had remained abandoned ever since.
I looked at Elena.
“I’m going.”
“Not alone.”
“Yes, alone.”
She crossed her arms.
“That worked wonderfully for the last six years.”
I almost argued.
Then stopped.
“You’re not bringing Sophie.”
“Obviously.”
“She stays with my security.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No.”
I stared at her.
She stared back.
Same woman.
Same stubbornness.
Same refusal to be intimidated.
I had missed it terribly.
“We take Sophie somewhere safe first,” she said.
“Where?”
She hesitated.
Then answered.
“My sister’s.”
I frowned.
“You have a sister?”
Elena’s face changed.
“Yes.”
“You never told me.”
“I haven’t spoken to her in nine years.”
“Why?”
Elena looked away.
“Because she worked for your family.”
—
Her sister’s name was Clara.
That was surprise number one.
Surprise number two was that I knew her.
Not personally.
But I remembered her face.
She had worked briefly for my mother as a private nurse.
Nine years ago.
Then disappeared.
We reached Clara’s house just after midnight.
My security team spread out quietly along the street.
Elena rang the bell.
Nothing.
Again.
Finally, a light came on.
The door opened.
A woman in her early forties stared through the gap.
Her face drained of color.
“Elena?”
“Hello, Clara.”
Clara’s gaze moved to me.
The reaction was immediate.
She tried to slam the door.
I caught it.
“Bad idea.”
“Get away from my house.”
“Why?”
Her eyes filled with terror.
“Because if you’re here, they know.”
Elena’s voice hardened.
“Know what?”
Clara looked past us toward the dark street.
“Get inside.”
We entered.
Sophie was asleep in Elena’s arms.
Clara locked the door, closed the curtains, then turned to me.
“You weren’t supposed to find them.”
I stepped forward.
“Who?”
“Elena and the child.”
“Sophie.”
Her face twisted.
“I know her name.”
“You know my daughter?”
Silence.
Elena looked between us.
“Clara?”
Her sister began crying.
“I tried to stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“I didn’t know what Isabella was doing in the beginning.”
My pulse hardened.
“You worked for my mother.”
“Yes.”
“What was Project Heir?”
Clara covered her mouth.
Elena put Sophie carefully on the sofa.
Then grabbed her sister’s hands.
“Tell us.”
Clara stared at her.
“Elena, you have to leave the country.”
“I’m done running.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand.”
Clara looked at me.
“Your mother believed someone was trying to eliminate the Valenti bloodline.”
I almost laughed.
“Do you hear how insane that sounds?”
“She had proof.”
“What proof?”
“Your father’s death wasn’t natural.”
I stopped.
My father had died when I was twenty-one.
A heart attack.
Everyone knew that.
Clara continued.
“Neither was your brother’s.”
The room froze.
My younger brother, Matteo, had died at seventeen in a car accident.
I had been twenty-four.
I still dreamed about identifying his body.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I was.”
Elena touched my arm.
I barely felt it.
Clara looked sick.
“Your mother became obsessed after Matteo died.
She believed the accidents around your family weren’t accidents.”
“So she watched Elena?”
“She screened every woman close to you.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She wanted an heir.”
Rage rose inside me.
“I was thirty years old.
I could decide whether I wanted children.”
“It wasn’t about what you wanted.”
“I noticed.”
Clara shook her head.
“You still don’t understand.
She wasn’t trying to continue the family name.”
“Then what?”
“She was trying to find a child who carried something specific.”
Elena whispered, “Genetic markers.”
Clara looked at her.
“Yes.”
My blood ran cold.
“What marker?”
“I never knew exactly.
Isabella kept the core research private.
She only told Nico.”
“Nico helped her?”
“At first.”
The words mattered.
“At first?”
Clara nodded.
“Then Nico realized the project could make him powerful.”
“How?”
Clara looked directly at me.
“Because your family didn’t build its fortune from hotels, property, and banking.”
I stepped closer.
“What are you talking about?”
“Those were the legal businesses.”
“Clara.”
“Your grandfather funded medical research after the war.
Experimental genetics.
Rare inherited disorders.
Longevity studies.”
I stared at her.
“That sounds like conspiracy nonsense.”
“It sounds that way because Isabella spent thirty years making sure it did.”
Elena’s hand found mine.
I didn’t pull away.
Clara whispered, “Your bloodline carries a mutation.”
“What kind?”
“One several companies would kill to control.”
My phone vibrated.
Once.
Twice.
Then all five security channels lit up simultaneously.
I looked at the screen.
No signal.
That was impossible.
I turned toward the window.
“Everyone down.”
A second later, the lights died.
Sophie woke screaming.
Elena grabbed her.
A gunshot cracked outside.
Then another.
My security chief shouted through the radio.
“Movement east side!”
The line went dead.
I drew the weapon from beneath my jacket.
Clara backed away.
“Oh God.”
“You expected this?”
“No.”
“You said they’d know.”
“I didn’t think this fast.”
A window shattered in the kitchen.
I pushed Elena and Sophie behind the wall.
“Stay down.”
Footsteps outside.
Professional.
Controlled.
Not random attackers.
Then came a voice from the darkness.
“Adrian!”
I knew that voice.
Every part of me recognized it.
Nico.
He stood somewhere outside Clara’s house.
My cousin.
My friend.
My betrayer.
“Come outside,” he called.
I raised my gun.
“You first.”
A soft laugh.
“You always did hate instructions.”
“Elena told me everything.”
“I assumed she would eventually.”
“You forged the messages.”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
No denial.
That somehow made it worse.
“You threatened her.”
“I protected her.”
“From who?”
Silence.
Then Nico said, “From your mother.”
I looked at Clara.
She shook her head frantically.
Nico continued.
“Isabella had plans for Sophie before Sophie was even conceived.”
“So did you.”
“My only mistake was thinking I could control what she started.”
I moved closer to the broken window.
“If you wanted Elena protected, why hunt her now?”
“I’m not hunting Elena.”
A pause.
“I’m here for you.”
That changed everything.
Behind me, Sophie whimpered.
Elena held her tighter.
I called out.
“Then come get me.”
Nico laughed again.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
A red laser appeared on my chest.
Elena gasped.
Then another laser appeared.
Not on me.
On Sophie.
Every instinct inside me shattered into violence.
I stepped in front of her.
“You point a weapon at my daughter again and I’ll burn every person you’ve ever cared about.”
Nico’s voice came softly through the darkness.
“She isn’t your daughter.”
Silence.
Even the gunfire outside seemed to stop.
I turned slowly toward Elena.
Her face had gone white.
“What did he say?”
“Adrian—”
I looked at her.
“What did he say?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Outside, Nico called again.
“Check the drive, cousin.”
Clara whispered, “No.”
My eyes moved toward her.
She looked terrified.
“Clara.”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
She shook her head.
“Because this is what he wants.”
“What?”
“He wants you to doubt her.”
I looked at Elena.
She held Sophie so tightly the child was almost hidden against her.
“Elena.”
“I never slept with anyone else.”
“I believe you.”
Her face crumpled slightly.
I meant it.
I believed her.
But Nico knew something.
And whatever it was, he wanted it to break us.
My phone suddenly regained signal.
One file appeared.
Sent from an unknown number.
PATERNITY.pdf.
I opened it.
A laboratory report.
Sophie Voss.
Adrian Valenti.
Probability of paternity:
0.00%.
For several seconds, I heard nothing.
Not Elena crying.
Not Sophie.
Not the men outside.
Nothing.
Then another message arrived.
Ask Elena who the biological material really came from.
I stared at the screen.
Elena grabbed the phone.
“This is fake.”
“Probably.”
“It has to be.”
“I know.”
“You believe me?”
“Yes.”
That answer seemed to shock her.
I looked toward Clara.
“But somebody manipulated something before Sophie was conceived.”
Clara closed her eyes.
And I understood.
Not all of it.
But enough.
“You know.”
She began shaking her head.
“No.”
“You know.”
Elena stared at her sister.
“Clara?”
“I’m sorry.”
Elena’s voice became small.
“For what?”
Clara started crying.
“I thought the procedure was routine.”
Elena stepped toward her.
“What procedure?”
“When you collapsed at the club.”
Elena went still.
“What?”
“Nine months before you learned you were pregnant.”
I looked at Elena.
She seemed confused.
“I was dehydrated.”
Clara shook her head.
“No.”
“You told me I was dehydrated.”
“Because Isabella told me to.”
Elena’s hand went to her mouth.
Clara sobbed.
“They took eggs.”
The room stopped.
“They what?”
I asked.
“They sedated her.
Retrieved genetic material.
I didn’t understand why.”
Elena staggered back.
“That’s impossible.”
“I helped falsify the medical records.”
Sophie began crying again.
Elena looked at her daughter.
Then at me.
Then at Clara.
“What did they do to me?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“WHAT DID THEY DO TO ME?”
Clara flinched.
“I think Sophie was planned.”
I felt something inside me turn to ice.
Not conceived accidentally.
Planned.
Engineered.
Watched.
Elena sank onto the couch.
I crossed the room and knelt in front of her.
She looked destroyed.
“I remember being sick.”
“I know.”
“I remember waking up.”
“I know.”
“I thought it was nothing.”
I took her face in my hands.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“Sophie is your daughter.”
Her breathing shook.
“She is my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And whatever those people did, whatever they changed, whatever they planned…”
I looked at Sophie.
The little girl who had walked into my lobby carrying a broken bear.
“…she’s mine too.”
Elena stared at me.
“No laboratory report changes that.”
Outside, Nico called my name again.
This time I stood.
Something had changed inside me.
I wasn’t confused anymore.
I wasn’t wounded.
I was focused.
“Nico!”
“Finally.”
“You want me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come out.”
Elena grabbed my arm.
“No.”
I leaned toward her.
“Trust me.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Not tonight.”
I kissed her forehead before either of us could think about what it meant.
Then I walked toward the door.
Clara whispered, “Adrian.”
I looked back.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
She glanced at Sophie.
Then lowered her voice.
“The paternity report may not be fake.”
I stared at her.
Elena rose.
“What are you saying?”
Clara’s face was full of horror.
“I saw the donor file once.”
My hand tightened around the gun.
“What donor?”
“The male genetic source used in the program.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Who?”
Clara opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, the front door exploded inward.
Smoke filled the room.
Elena screamed.
I fired twice toward the entryway.
Men moved through the haze.
My security returned fire from outside.
Glass shattered.
Someone grabbed me.
I drove my elbow backward.
He dropped.
Another man appeared.
I fired.
Then I heard Sophie scream.
“Daddy!”
I turned.
A masked man had Elena.
Another had Sophie.
I lunged.
Too late.
A gun pressed against Elena’s throat.
“Drop it.”
I froze.
Sophie was crying.
Benny had fallen onto the floor.
The masked man holding her backed toward the rear exit.
I lowered my weapon slowly.
Then a figure stepped through the smoke.
Nico.
Same expensive suit.
Same calm eyes.
Same man who had toasted my victories.
Carried my brother’s coffin.
Sat beside me at my mother’s funeral.
I wanted to kill him with my hands.
Instead, I said, “Let them go.”
He looked at Sophie.
Then back at me.
“I can’t.”
“She’s six.”
“I know exactly how old she is.”
“You’re dead.”
“Probably.”
He seemed almost amused.
“But not tonight.”
He picked Benny up from the floor.
Turned the bear over.
Ran his thumb across the uneven stitching.
“You found the drive.”
“Yes.”
“Then Isabella planned better than I thought.”
“You betrayed me.”
Nico looked almost offended.
“No, Adrian.”
He stepped closer.
“I betrayed Isabella.”
“Why?”
“Because she was going to give everything to the child.”
“What everything?”
“You still don’t know.”
His expression changed.
For the first time, I saw fear in Nico.
Real fear.
“Your mother didn’t create Project Heir to produce the next Valenti.”
He looked at Sophie.
“She created it to replace you.”
A chill moved through me.
“What does that mean?”
Nico looked toward Clara.
She was crying silently.
Then he said the one sentence that made every person in the room stop breathing.
“Sophie’s biological father wasn’t Adrian.”
Elena shook her head violently.
“No.”
Nico continued.
“And it wasn’t some anonymous donor.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
Nico smiled without humor.
“Your brother.”
The world cracked open.
Matteo.
Dead nine years.
Dead three years before Sophie was born.
Impossible.
I looked at Clara.
She wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Nico pulled something from inside his jacket.
A photograph.
He tossed it onto the floor.
I looked down.
It showed my brother.
Matteo.
Alive.
Older.
The photograph had a date printed in the corner.
Eight months ago.
My blood turned cold.
I raised my eyes slowly.
Nico was already backing toward the door.
“Welcome to Phase Two, cousin.”
Then the house went black again.
And when the emergency lights came on three seconds later—
Nico was gone.
So was Sophie.
And on the floor where she had been standing was Benny, his torn chest finally split open.
Inside the bear was another hidden object.
Not a storage drive.
A keycard.
Printed across it were four words:
SAINT CATHERINE’S — MATERNITY WING.
…If you want to know what happened next, please type “YES” and like for more.
Source: Stories of Destiny · Nhan Nhan
