Chapter 7 - THE BLOOD TEST
Alina refused to believe Thomas Bellini.
She also refused to ignore him.
“DNA.”
Vincent stared.
“What?”
“Test it.”
“Alina—”
“No speculation. No family stories. No old payment records. DNA.”
He nodded.
“Agreed.”
Vittorio’s preserved medical samples existed from cancer treatment.
Alina gave blood.
Then came the longest thirty-six hours of her life.
She avoided Vincent.
Not because he had done anything.
Because every time she saw him, her stomach twisted.
What if?
She hated that question.
Instead, she focused on Mia.
Mia played with blocks.
Asked for pancakes.
Wondered why “Mr. Vincent” looked sad.
Children did not care about bloodlines until adults taught them to.
Then Dominic found the payment records Thomas mentioned.
Monthly transfers from a Marchetti foundation to Elena Ruiz.
Nineteen years.
They began three months before Alina’s birth.
Stopped when Alina turned nineteen.
Her mother had told her the money came from a distant relative.
Lie.
Again.
Vincent studied the records.
“This does look bad.”
“Thank you for the technical analysis.”
He almost smiled.
Then:
“My father had affairs.”
“Also helpful.”
“I’m not defending him.”
“Good.”
“But he also paid families connected to people harmed by the organization.”
Alina looked at him.
“You think my father—whoever he was—was harmed?”
“Possible.”
There.
Maybe.
Again.
The DNA results arrived at 4:07 p.m.
Vincent did not open them.
He handed the envelope to Alina.
“Your answer.”
She opened it.
Vittorio Marchetti:
Excluded as biological father.
Alina exhaled so violently she laughed.
Then cried.
Vincent closed his eyes.
Relief.
Visible.
That mattered more than either of them addressed.
“So Thomas lied.”
“Partly.”
The lab included a kinship result.
Alina and Vincent:
No sibling relationship.
Good.
Then another comparison had been performed.
Elena Ruiz’s old medical records contained an emergency blood sample preserved in a teaching hospital archive.
Genetic markers suggested Alina’s biological father was connected to one of the other samples investigators had obtained.
Carlo Russo.
Dominic’s father.
Alina stared.
“No.”
Dominic sat down.
“My father?”
The report showed a high probability that Carlo Russo had been Alina’s biological father.
Dominic looked at her.
Which made him—
Her half-brother.
Alina laughed helplessly.
“This house is ridiculous.”
Nobody disagreed.
Dominic looked shattered.
“My father never told me.”
“My mother never told me.”
Vincent read an old letter found with Carlo’s documents.
Elena,
I cannot bring Alina into this world.
Vittorio has agreed to send money through his foundation.
Dominic is already being raised around men I regret knowing.
At least one of my children should grow up outside it.
Alina stopped.
Her father had known.
Chosen distance.
Called it protection.
Again.
Dominic’s eyes filled.
“He knew about you.”
“Yes.”
“He left you.”
“Yes.”
“Us.”
Alina looked at him.
“Apparently our fathers specialized in emotionally damaging safety plans.”
Dominic laughed once through grief.
Then the implications struck Vincent.
If Carlo Russo was Alina’s father, Thomas Bellini knew.
Why weaponize that secret now?
Dominic answered.
“Because Eddie knows too.”
His younger brother.
Meaning Eddie Russo and Alina were also half-siblings.
Mia’s biological uncle.
And Eddie had helped sabotage Vincent’s car.
Alina went cold.
“Why would my brother target Mia?”
Dominic shook his head.
“Maybe he didn’t know.”
Then a message arrived from Eddie.
One photograph.
Teresa tied to a chair.
Another of Gabriel.
Alive.
Standing beside her.
And text:
COME TO THE OLD RUSSO HOUSE.
ALINA ONLY.
SHE DESERVES TO HEAR WHY CARLO REALLY DIED.
Dominic’s face emptied.
Their father had supposedly died of a heart attack.
May you like
Now even that was uncertain.
And Alina had just gained two brothers in the same hour—one who protected Vincent, and one who might be trying to kill him.
