Chapter 2 - The Father I Never Knew“No.”
The word left my mouth before the doctor finished explaining.
Damian stood motionless.
“You think I’m her father?”
The doctor shook her head.
“I said the screening indicates a possible biological relationship. We need proper testing.”
I stared at Damian.
Two years earlier, I had not known him.
At least I thought I hadn’t.
“There is no possibility.”
Damian looked at me.
“Who was Leah’s father?”
The question hurt.
“His name was Matteo.”
Damian’s expression changed.
“What?”
“Matteo Bellini.”
He sat down.
Actually sat.
The color left his face.
I noticed immediately.
“You know that name.”
Damian looked toward his attorney.
“Get us privacy.”
The doctor left.
Damian waited until the door closed.
Then he looked at me.
“Describe Matteo.”
“Why?”
“Please.”
It was the first time he had said that word to me.
I swallowed.
“He was Italian. Thirty-one when I met him. Dark hair. Brown eyes. He worked in international logistics.”
Damian laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“What?”
“International logistics.”
“What is funny?”
“Nothing.”
He rubbed his face.
“Did Matteo have a scar?”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“Left side. Under his ribs.”
I stared.
“Yes.”
Damian closed his eyes.
“God.”
“Who was he?”
Damian looked at Leah sleeping against me.
Then at me.
“My brother.”
I forgot how to breathe.
“No.”
“His real name was Matteo Caruso.”
I shook my head.
“He told me he had no family.”
“He lied.”
“Why?”
“Because he was hiding from us.”
Damian explained.
Matteo had been the youngest Caruso son.
Unlike Damian, he hated the family business.
At twenty-seven, he disappeared after a violent dispute with their father.
He changed his identity.
Moved through Europe.
Refused contact.
Damian searched for years.
Then stopped when Matteo sent a message saying he wanted to live as if the Caruso name had never existed.
I stared at Leah.
My daughter was a Caruso.
Not by adoption.
By blood.
“Where is Matteo?”
Damian said nothing.
My stomach sank.
“No.”
“Elena.”
“Where is he?”
“He died.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
My voice disappeared.
“How?”
“Car accident near Lucerne.”
I shook my head violently.
“No. He left me before I gave birth.”
Damian stared.
“He left?”
“He disappeared.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before Leah was born.”
Damian’s expression changed.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing.”
That had been another grief.
One morning Matteo kissed my forehead before work.
That night he never came home.
His phone stopped working.
His apartment was emptied within two days.
I believed he had abandoned me.
Then my baby died.
Everything disappeared at once.
Damian looked furious.
Not at me.
At someone absent.
“He didn’t leave you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because three weeks before Leah’s birth was when Bianca contacted him.”
My blood chilled.
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She told him someone had found him.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
Damian said the words like a curse.
Vittorio Caruso.
Dead now.
But apparently still controlling lives from the grave.
Damian explained that Vittorio considered Matteo’s disappearance betrayal.
Worse, Matteo had taken financial records when he fled.
Records connecting Vittorio to crimes even Damian had not known about.
“If my father discovered Matteo had a child…”
Damian stopped.
“What?”
“He would have considered the baby leverage.”
I hugged Leah tighter.
Damian’s jaw clenched.
“I think Matteo disappeared to protect you.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“Then why didn’t he tell me?”
“Because knowing would have made you a target.”
I laughed bitterly.
“I became one anyway.”
“Yes.”
The paternity-family test returned the next morning.
Damian was not Leah’s father.
But the genetic relationship was consistent with him being her paternal uncle.
Everything aligned.
Leah was Elena Rossi and Matteo Caruso’s biological daughter.
Damian stared at the report for a long time.
Then handed it to me.
“She’s yours.”
I looked at him.
“She’s ours.”
He seemed surprised.
“I mean…”
I looked at Leah.
“You raised her.”
His face changed.
“For two years.”
“You loved her when you didn’t have to.”
“I always had to.”
“Why?”
“Because she was Bianca’s last request.”
“What request?”
Damian hesitated.
Then reached into his jacket.
He removed an old phone.
“My sister recorded something before she died.”
My heart began pounding.
He played the file.
Bianca appeared on-screen inside a car.
Blood stained her blouse.
A baby cried somewhere beside her.
Her voice shook.
“Damian, if you find this, protect the child.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“They lied to the mother.”
I froze.
Bianca continued.
“The clinic is involved. Father paid them. Matteo tried to stop it.”
My hand flew to my mouth.
“They told her the baby died.”
The video shook.
“I got the child out.”
Tears filled Bianca’s eyes.
“Matteo is dead. Father ordered it.”
Damian closed his eyes.
I stopped breathing.
His father had killed his own son.
Bianca continued.
“The mother’s name is Elena Rossi.”
I began crying.
“She doesn’t know.”
The recording ended abruptly.
I stared at Damian.
“You knew my name.”
“No.”
“But she said it.”
“The phone was damaged. We recovered only part of the file.”
“When?”
His silence terrified me.
“When did you recover this version?”
“Three weeks ago.”
I stood.
“You had my name for three weeks?”
“We searched.”
“And didn’t find me?”
“You changed countries twice and used your mother’s surname after Zurich.”
True.
But anger did not care.
“You should have searched harder.”
“Yes.”
No defense.
That disarmed me more than excuses would have.
Then Damian said:
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
“Bianca mentioned the clinic.”
“Yes.”
“The doctor who signed your daughter’s death certificate still works there.”
My blood turned cold.
“Name.”
“Dr. Adrian Keller.”
I knew him.
He was the man who told me my baby was dead.
Damian stood.
“We can go to police.”
“We are.”
He nodded.
“And then?”
I looked at Leah.
“Then I go back to Zurich.”
Damian’s expression hardened.
“You’re not going alone.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“My brother died protecting you.”
His voice broke slightly.
“My sister died protecting Leah.”
Then his eyes moved to my daughter.
“And for two years, I thought I had failed both of them because I couldn’t understand why this child stopped speaking.”
I softened.
“Damian.”
He swallowed.
“I’m going.”
Two days later, we boarded a flight to Switzerland with law-enforcement coordination already underway.
I sat beside Leah.
Damian sat across from us.
Halfway over the Atlantic, Leah woke from a nightmare.
She screamed.
I reached for her.
So did Damian.
Our hands touched.
For one strange second, neither moved.
Then Leah grabbed both.
“Mama.”
She looked at Damian.
Her lips trembled.
He leaned closer.
“What is it, piccola?”
Leah stared into his eyes.
Then whispered another word.
“Dami.”
Damian froze.
His face crumpled.
He turned toward the window, but not fast enough.
I saw the tears.
And I understood something I had been too consumed by my own miracle to see.
May you like
I had gotten my daughter back.
But Damian was terrified he was about to lose his.
