Chapter 7
“A child?” Lorenzo said.
His voice changed.
Not fear.
Something deeper.
Rosa was crying on the phone.
“Bianca says the child is yours.”
The bakery went silent.
I heard my own heartbeat.
Lorenzo’s face drained.
“That’s impossible.”
Ethan laughed from the floor, blood at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh, this is my favorite part.”
I turned slowly.
“What do you know?”
He smiled.
“Only what I was paid to deliver.”
Lorenzo grabbed him by the collar.
Marco moved like he might stop him.
Then changed his mind.
Good.
Lorenzo’s voice was deadly quiet.
“Speak.”
Ethan swallowed.
“Bianca left because she was pregnant. The old council told her the baby would be used to control you. She ran. Her father hid her. Rosa found out too late.”
I stared at Lorenzo.
His hands loosened.
“No one told me.”
Ethan smirked.
“Seems to be a family hobby.”
I wanted to hit him.
I did not.
Police took him, Tessa, and the two men into custody.
Tessa looked back at me once.
I looked away.
Some grief would wait.
We returned to the estate before dawn.
Bianca sat in the library wrapped in Rosa’s shawl.
She looked thinner than her photo.
Older than her age.
A little girl slept on the sofa beside her.
Dark curls.
Long lashes.
A tiny fist under her cheek.
She was maybe eighteen months old.
Lorenzo stopped in the doorway.
The whole world seemed to hold its breath.
Bianca looked up.
“I’m sorry.”
Lorenzo did not move.
“What is her name?”
“Sofia.”
His face changed.
That was his mother’s name.
Rosa covered her mouth.
Bianca cried.
“I didn’t name her to hurt you.”
Lorenzo walked slowly toward the sofa.
He knelt.
The little girl stirred.
Her eyes opened.
Dark.
Calm.
Lorenzo’s eyes.
My chest tightened.
He looked like a man being handed both a miracle and a wound.
Bianca whispered, “I tried to tell you. Your father’s men intercepted the letter. Then they sent me videos of what they would do if I came back.”
Rosa said, “I searched for you.”
Bianca looked at her.
“You searched quietly. They counted on that.”
Rosa flinched.
The truth hit again.
Rosa had loved loudly in private and hidden publicly.
That had nearly destroyed everyone.
Lorenzo turned to me.
I saw the question before he asked.
Would I leave?
Would I become number seven?
Would the child be too much?
Would Bianca?
Would the truth?
I looked at Sofia sleeping.
Then at Bianca’s shaking hands.
Then at Lorenzo, this massive man who looked terrified of touching his own daughter.
“Ask permission,” I said softly.
He blinked.
“What?”
“When she wakes. Ask before picking her up.”
Bianca cried harder.
Lorenzo looked back at Sofia.
When her eyes opened again, he held out one finger.
“May I?”
She stared.
Then wrapped her tiny hand around it.
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
I had to turn away.
By morning, the estate held too many truths.
My father’s drive was in federal custody.
So was the red ledger.
Ethan confessed first because cowards always try to be useful when trapped.
Tessa confirmed the council’s contact.
Bianca gave names.
Dominic gave routes.
Rosa gave everything she had hidden.
And Lorenzo made one decision.
“We expose it all.”
Marco stared at him.
“Boss, your father’s name—”
“Let it burn.”
Rosa whispered, “Lorenzo.”
He looked at her.
“Patrick Carter died because people protected names instead of victims. My father was guilty. Your silence helped. My silence ends now.”
Rosa bowed her head.
For the first time, she looked small.
Not weak.
Accountable.
The federal agents arrived that afternoon.
The Duca empire opened like a wound.
Warehouses.
Accounts.
Charities.
Shelters.
Shipping manifests.
Names of missing workers.
Names of children relocated through fake programs.
It was worse than I imagined.
Better than staying buried.
Sofia stayed in the nursery suite with Bianca, under guard.
I stayed in my room for exactly one hour before Lorenzo knocked.
Once.
“Come in,” I said.
He entered and stopped near the door.
“I have a daughter.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I believe you.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“Does that change what you want?”
I laughed softly.
“I barely knew what I wanted before breakfast.”
“Fair.”
I stepped closer.
“I want the truth. I want my father’s name cleared. I want Ethan gone from my life. I want Tessa to face what she did. I want Bianca and Sofia safe.”
“And me?”
I looked up at him.
“I want you to stop deciding I’ll leave before I do.”
His face softened.
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
Outside, a child cried.
Sofia.
Lorenzo turned toward the sound like it pulled him by the ribs.
“Go,” I said.
He hesitated.
Then went.
And I realized something quietly terrifying.
May you like
I was no longer afraid of being number seven.
I was afraid I wanted to stay.
