Chapter 13 - THE LITTLE BOY WHO CALLED HIM DADDY
Roman Moretti stared at Gabriel's photograph for nearly an hour.
He didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Didn't look away.
Then he whispered:
“My son.”
I sat across from him.
For the first time, I wasn't afraid of his silence.
I understood it.
He had spent years believing Gabriella died in an accident.
Now he was discovering she had survived long enough to give birth.
And someone had hidden his child.
“Roman?”
He looked up.
His eyes were red.
“Did Gabriella know?”
I nodded.
“She was trying to protect him.”
He closed his eyes.
“I made her afraid too.”
The admission was quiet.
Painful.
Honest.
I didn't argue.
Caroline had explained that Gabriella feared Victor, but she also feared the violent world surrounding Roman.
He knew that.
For the first time, he was willing to face it.
Over the following weeks, investigators verified Gabriel's identity and contacted his guardians.
The little boy had been living with a foster family who loved him deeply.
They had no idea his biological father was Roman Moretti.
Roman didn't demand immediate custody.
He worked with the child's legal representatives and care professionals to arrange a gradual introduction.
I watched him prepare.
He bought books about parenting.
Asked questions about childhood trauma.
And practiced what he'd say.
The most feared man in the city was terrified of meeting a seven-year-old boy.
I almost smiled.
“Roman?”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“You don't have to be perfect.”
His expression softened.
“I don't know how to be his father.”
“Then learn.”
He stared.
Then smiled faintly.
“Simple advice.”
“Not simple. Just honest.”
The first meeting took place in a bright family room at a supervised visitation center.
Gabriel entered holding a stuffed dinosaur.
Roman stood.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then the little boy looked up.
“Are you Roman?”
Roman nodded.
“Yes.”
Gabriel studied him.
“You look like my picture.”
Roman's eyes filled with tears.
“What picture?”
“The one my foster mom showed me.”
He swallowed.
“I guess I do.”
Gabriel approached slowly.
Then asked:
“Are you really my dad?”
Roman knelt.
“Yes.”
The little boy stared.
“Did you know about me?”
Roman shook his head.
“No.”
Gabriel's expression changed.
“Then why didn't you come?”
Roman began crying.
“Because I didn't know where you were.”
The boy looked at him for a long moment.
Then whispered:
“I thought maybe you didn't want me.”
Roman's face collapsed.
He opened his arms.
“I've wanted you since the moment I learned you existed.”
Gabriel hesitated.
Then stepped into his embrace.
Roman held him carefully.
And for the first time in his life, the powerful man who could command entire rooms had nothing to say.
He simply cried.
I watched from the doorway.
My own eyes filled with tears.
Then Detective Bennett approached.
“Nora?”
I turned.
“What?”
“We found Gabriella.”
My heart stopped.
“Alive?”
The detective nodded.
“Yes.”
Relief washed through me.
Then she continued.
“But there's something you need to know.”
I swallowed.
“What?”
“Gabriella has been living under a protected identity.”
I looked toward Roman and Gabriel.
May you like
Then the detective whispered:
“She helped investigators build the case against Victor Bellini—and she's been waiting to testify against Roman too.”
