Chapter 9 - THE BLOODLINE MY FATHER STOLE
Austo read the documents in silence.
We were inside an abandoned townhouse three blocks from my father’s estate.
Tobaya stood by the window.
I watched Austo’s face.
Nothing obvious changed.
But his hands became very still.
“Matteo was my uncle,” he said.
“I know.”
“He died in a car accident before you were born.”
“Sofia never told me.”
“She may not have known.”
That was possible.
The test had been hidden in my father’s private vault.
Maybe Vittorio discovered the truth first.
Maybe that was why he kept me.
A Bellucci-raised daughter with Castillion blood gave him leverage over two families.
Austo looked at me.
“Veronica.”
“Yes?”
“You understand this changes nothing about your choices.”
I almost laughed.
“You think that’s what I’m worried about?”
“I don’t know what you’re worried about.”
“Neither do I.”
That was true.
My entire identity had become a stack of corrected documents.
Austo handed the pages back.
“You are still yourself.”
The sentence hit harder than it should have.
I folded the papers.
“What does this mean politically?”
“Too much.”
Of course.
If confirmed, my existence could affect old inheritance claims, family businesses, property arrangements, even leadership legitimacy inside the organizations our fathers built.
Men had killed for less.
“Does my father know?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be sure?”
Austo pointed to a handwritten note.
Vittorio’s initials.
Then I noticed another page.
A payment.
Large.
Made after Matteo Castillion’s death to the mechanic who serviced his car.
My stomach turned.
“No.”
Austo’s face hardened.
Tobaya swore under his breath.
“Was Matteo’s accident really an accident?”
Austo did not answer.
Because proof had just become possible.
We copied everything.
Then returned the originals exactly where I found them.
My father could not know.
Not yet.
The next morning, Olindo arrived with a jeweler.
He brought a wedding necklace.
Heavy gold.
Belluccis on one side.
Valeris on the other.
A chain disguised as jewelry.
He fastened it around my neck without asking.
“Sunday,” he whispered. “No running this time.”
I looked at him in the mirror.
“No.”
He smiled.
“You’ve learned.”
He misunderstood.
That was useful too.
Then he kissed my cheek and left.
On the table, he accidentally forgot his phone.
The screen lit up.
One message.
FROM VITTORIO:
AFTER THE CEREMONY, MOVE VERONICA TO THE VALERI HOUSE. CASTILLION MUST NEVER GET THE PATERNITY FILE.
I stared at the words.
May you like
My father knew exactly what I had found.
And he was planning to make sure I never reached Austo again.
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