Chapter 4 - THE SON MY FATHER HID
The first successor under Black Crown was a child.
That was the secret my father had taken to his grave.
Julian retrieved the original continuity documents from an off-site legal archive before dawn.
The plan was dated seven years earlier, two weeks after Marco’s supposed death.
If control of Moretti Holdings became unstable, voting authority would not pass entirely to me.
It would pass into trust for Marco’s biological child.
I stared at the page.
“Marco had no children.”
Dominic said nothing.
That silence was answer enough.
“Who?”
Julian turned another sheet.
A birth certificate.
Male child.
Born eight years earlier.
Mother:
Elena Rossi.
Father:
Marco Moretti.
I stopped breathing.
Rossi.
Vivien’s surname.
“Is Elena related to Vivien?”
Dominic nodded.
“Older sister.”
Everything rearranged itself.
Vivien had not entered my life randomly.
She was the aunt of Marco’s son.
“Where is the child?”
Dominic looked toward the hallway.
“Missing.”
The boy had disappeared with Elena shortly before Marco’s boat exploded.
My father secretly confirmed the child’s paternity, created Black Crown, then buried the information because he believed someone inside the family had targeted Marco.
“And Victor knows?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He helped your father write the first draft.”
I stood.
“So Victor has spent seven years looking for Marco’s son.”
Dominic shook his head.
“No.”
That answer chilled me.
“He found him.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Where?”
Dominic’s eyes moved toward the ceiling.
Toward the guest wing.
I felt something cold settle inside me.
“No.”
“He isn’t here,” Dominic said quickly.
“Then where?”
“Victor won’t tell me.”
“What does Vivien have to do with it?”
“She believes marrying you is the only way to gain access to Black Crown and protect the boy before Victor moves him.”
That sounded almost noble.
Almost.
Then Julian found another document in the archive.
A private DNA certification.
The child’s name had been changed.
New identity:
Noah Carter.
I stared at it.
Carter.
Mara Carter.
The housekeeper.
Her eight-year-old nephew Noah had visited Ravenwood twice that summer.
Except Mara did not have an eight-year-old nephew.
She had a younger brother’s son she claimed lived with relatives in Ohio.
I thought of Emma.
Her whispered warning.
Aunt Vivien is inside again.
Not Miss Vivien.
Not Mrs. Rossi.
Aunt Vivien.
Children tell you the thing itself.
I looked at Dominic.
“Is Mara Elena Rossi?”
He closed his eyes.
“No.”
“Then who is she?”
May you like
He answered quietly.
“The woman your father paid to hide Marco’s son.”
