Chapter 9 - THE FATHER WHO SOLD HIS GRANDSON
Sofia Marino Moretti had worshiped her father.
Antonio Marino had died seven years earlier.
She remembered him as gentle.
Protective.
The parent who read bedtime stories when Elena worked late.
Now his signature sat beneath the document that stole Matteo.
“No.”
Alessandro did not argue.
He knew better.
Sofia took the paperwork to a forensic examiner.
The signature was authentic.
Then she opened her mother’s letters again.
One sentence had never made sense.
Your father chose peace when courage was required.
Now it did.
Antonio had known Matteo survived.
Vittorio convinced him that if the child remained with Sofia and Alessandro, rivals would use him as leverage.
Antonio agreed to the secret adoption.
In exchange, Vittorio protected the Marino family’s businesses.
Sofia sat alone in her mother’s old townhouse.
Her father had traded her son for safety.
Alessandro found her there after sunset.
He remained near the door.
“May I come in?”
She looked at him.
Fourteen years of marriage.
And now he asked permission to enter a room.
“Yes.”
He sat across from her.
She held the document.
“Our fathers decided everything.”
“Yes.”
“Our son.”
“Yes.”
“My mother.”
“Yes.”
“Me.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
She laughed bitterly.
“And we became exactly like them.”
Alessandro’s expression changed.
“I did.”
“You made decisions for me because you thought you knew what I could handle.”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe you were sleeping with Valentina.”
“Yes.”
“You chose deception because it was efficient.”
“Yes.”
“Stop agreeing with me.”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
For once, he sounded lost.
Sofia looked at him.
“Tell me why.”
He stared at the floor.
Then answered honestly.
“Because I was afraid.”
She almost laughed.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Of Gabriel?”
“No.”
His eyes met hers.
“Of losing you.”
Silence.
“If I told you the truth, you would’ve demanded to be involved.”
“Yes.”
“And I knew Gabriel would target you.”
“So you humiliated me instead.”
“I thought temporary pain was better than burying you.”
His voice broke.
“I was wrong.”
Sofia looked away.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know if I still want this marriage.”
His face tightened.
But he nodded.
“I know.”
She expected persuasion.
Threats.
Promises.
Instead, Alessandro removed his wedding ring.
He placed it on the table.
Her breath caught.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you what I should have given you years ago.”
“What?”
“A choice.”
He stood.
“If you want freedom, I’ll sign anything.”
Sofia stared at the ring.
“If you want the house, it’s yours. If you want the companies divided, done. If you never want to see me again except when Leo asks, I will respect it.”
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“But if there is even one part of you that wants me to earn my way back, I’ll spend whatever years I have left doing it.”
He left.
Sofia sat alone.
For the first time, Alessandro Moretti did not chase her.
That night, Leo called.
“Sofia?”
Her heart jumped.
“Yes?”
“There’s a man outside Valentina’s house.”
“What man?”
“He says he knew my grandfather.”
“Which grandfather?”
Leo’s answer turned her blood cold.
“Vittorio Moretti.”
May you like
Sofia stood.
Because Vittorio had supposedly been dead for nine years.
