Chapter 4 - A Father's Touch
Dr. Sergio Valenti had been the Moretti family physician for thirty-five years. He had treated gunshot wounds in basements, certified heart attacks that were anything but natural, and delivered the children of captains.
When he was summoned to the estate at nine o’clock that morning, he had expected blood. Instead, he found Don Alessandro Moretti sitting in a leather armchair in the library, holding a three-year-old girl on his knee.
The child was playing with the Don’s platinum watch, turning the bezel with her tiny thumb while Alessandro held his wrist perfectly still so she wouldn't drop it.
Dr. Valenti stopped in the doorway, his medical bag suddenly feeling heavy in his hand. “Don Alessandro.”
“Sergio,” Alessandro said without looking up. “Come in. Close the door.”
The doctor did as he was told, the heavy oak latch clicking shut. “Bruno said there was an urgent medical matter.”
“There is,” Alessandro replied. He gently took Lily’s hand, pressing a soft kiss to her tiny knuckles before looking up at the physician. “I need a swab. DNA. Fast-tracked through your private lab in White Plains. I want the certified results on my desk by noon.”
Dr. Valenti blinked behind his gold-rimmed glasses. “A paternity test? Alessandro... look at her. She has your mother’s brow, your jawline, and Elena’s eyes. You don't need a machine to tell you what anyone with eyes can see.”
“I don’t need it for myself,” Alessandro said, his tone darkening. “I need it for the Commission. Vincent Romano will not swallow the cancellation of the wedding without proof. He will claim I invented a bastard to break the treaty. When I put the paper in front of the five families, I want it sealed with a medical license that cannot be questioned.”
Dr. Valenti nodded gravely. “Understood.”
The doctor approached slowly, kneeling beside the chair. Lily shrank back into Alessandro’s chest, her little hands gripping his charcoal shirt.
“It’s alright, *piccola*,” Alessandro murmured, his voice softer than Dr. Valenti had ever heard it in thirty-five years. He placed a large, steady hand over Lily’s back. “This is Dr. Sergio. He only wants to touch your mouth with a cotton stick. Like an ice pop.”
Lily looked at Alessandro, searching his dark eyes with profound scrutiny. Alessandro held her gaze, offering nothing but absolute safety. After a moment, the little girl opened her mouth obediently.
Dr. Valenti took the swab swiftly and gently, sealing it in a sterile plastic vial. “I will run it myself, Alessandro. No technicians. No leaks.”
“If a single syllable leaves your clinic before noon,” Alessandro added calmly, “I will burn the building down with you inside it.”
“I have served your family since you were in short trousers, Don Alessandro,” Dr. Valenti said with a quiet bow. “My loyalty is not for sale.”
When the doctor departed, the room returned to silence.
Rosa entered from the adjacent terrace, having changed out of her servant’s uniform into a simple navy dress that Bruno had retrieved from the estate’s guest collections. She looked different without the apron—taller, her natural grace no longer obscured by servitude.
Lily saw her and immediately wriggled down from Alessandro’s lap, running across the hardwood floor on her duck socks. “Mama!”
Rosa caught her, lifting her into her arms and burying her face in Lily’s dark curls. “My sweet girl. Are you alright?”
“Mr. Watch gave me gold,” Lily said proudly, pointing back toward Alessandro.
Rosa looked up, her expression complicated. “You gave her your watch?”
“She liked the sound it made,” Alessandro said, rising from his chair. “A Patek Philippe is replaceable. Her smile is not.”
Rosa set Lily down and allowed her to wander toward the low bookshelves where large, leather-bound encyclopedias sat.
“Alessandro,” Rosa said quietly, stepping closer to him. “What happens when the test comes back? What happens when Chicago finds out?”
Alessandro walked toward her until only inches separated them. He could smell the clean scent of almond soap on her skin—the same scent that had haunted his dreams in that caretaker’s cottage four years ago.
“When the test comes back, I sign the papers of legitimacy,” he said. “Lilianna becomes a Moretti in the eyes of the law, the church, and the families. And you...”
“Me?” Rosa’s heart skipped a beat.
Alessandro raised a hand, his calloused thumb brushing against the delicate hollow beneath her cheekbone. “You spent four years on your knees scrubbing floors to keep my daughter safe. You think I will let you return to the shadows? You are the mother of the Moretti heir, Rosa. In this house, you kneel to no one ever again.”
Before Rosa could answer, the door of the study swung open. Bruno stood there, his face unusually pale.
May you like
“Don Alessandro,” Bruno said, his voice taut. “A motorcade just breached the outer perimeter. Four black Cadillacs with Illinois plates. Vincent Romano has just entered the gates.”
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