Chapter 5 - THE BLOOD TEST
The words hung in the air, suffocating everyone in the room.
He’s not my son.
Nicholas staggered backward, hitting the edge of the bar. "Dad... what is he talking about?"
"Read it," Anthony sneered from the floor, spitting blood onto the marble tiles. "Read it out loud, Dominic. Tell the boy the truth. Tell him why Elena begged me to take him away from you before the fire."
Dominic threw the charred watch at Anthony’s face. It shattered against the tile.
"You planned this," Dominic roared, lunging forward and grabbing Anthony by the throat. "You forged the engraving! You cut her brakes, killed her, and forged the watch to torture me!"
"I didn't cut her brakes!" Anthony gasped, struggling for air. "She was running away from you, Dominic! She found out about the money you were laundering through the children's charity. She was going to the FBI. She was taking our son and leaving!"
"Stop it!" Nicholas screamed, grabbing his head. "Stop lying!"
The heavy steel doors of the restaurant finally gave way. Chicago SWAT teams poured in, their rifles raised, red laser sights cutting through the smoke-filled dining room.
"Chicago PD! Nobody move! Drop your weapons!"
Dominic slowly released Anthony's throat and raised his hands. His loyal guards dropped their weapons.
A detective in a trench coat stepped through the tactical team. I recognized him immediately. Detective Russo. He was the one who had come to my house fifteen years ago when the men tried to kill Grace.
Russo looked around the room, taking in the dead mercenaries, the bleeding Salvatore, and the Mafia boss standing with his hands up.
Then his eyes landed on me.
"Rose Bennett," Russo said, his voice flat. "Why am I not surprised you're in the middle of this?"
"I just served the wine, Detective," I said, holding Grace tight against my side.
Russo walked over to Dominic. "Mr. Caruso. You have the right to remain silent."
"I'm not saying a word until my lawyer gets here," Dominic said, his eyes never leaving Anthony. "But you need to arrest Anthony Romano for the kidnapping of my son fifteen years ago."
Russo looked at Nicholas. The young man was shaking, tears streaming down his face.
"Is this true?" Russo asked Anthony as an officer pulled him to his feet.
"He's my biological son," Anthony said calmly, holding out his wrists for the cuffs. "I took him to protect him from a violent mob boss. I'll take a DNA test tonight to prove it."
Russo nodded. "Take them all down to the precinct. Separate cars."
As the officers moved to cuff Dominic, he turned to me.
"Rose," he said urgently.
I stopped.
"Don't let them take you home," Dominic whispered. "Go to the precinct. Stay in the light. If my father ordered a hit on your daughter tonight, the men who failed will come back to finish the job."
I looked at Salvatore, who was being loaded onto a stretcher. The old man wouldn't meet my eyes.
"I'll be at the precinct," I promised.
Two hours later, Grace and I were sitting in a sterile interrogation room at the Chicago PD headquarters. I had given my statement. I told them about the poisoned wine, the envelope of cash, and the confession I heard about Nicholas.
Detective Russo walked in, holding a manila folder. He looked exhausted.
"Well, Rose," Russo sighed, dropping the folder on the metal table. "You've had a busy night."
"Can we go home, Detective?" Grace asked, her voice trembling. "I just want to go home."
"I'm afraid not, Grace," Russo said gently. "Mr. Caruso was right. We raided Salvatore's estate an hour ago. We found a hit list. Your name is at the top. We're putting you both in protective custody until the trial."
I felt a cold sweat break out on my neck. "What about Anthony? Did he take the DNA test?"
Russo opened the folder. He pulled out a single sheet of paper with a lab seal on it.
"We expedited the test using a rapid cheek swab from both Anthony and Nicholas," Russo said.
"And?" I asked, my heart pounding.
"Anthony Romano is not Nicholas's biological father," Russo said flatly.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "So he lied. He forged the watch."
"He lied about being the father, yes," Russo said, his expression darkening. "But he didn't lie about Dominic."
Russo slid the paper across the table.
"We ran Dominic's DNA against Nicholas's, too, just to confirm."
I looked at the bold black letters at the bottom of the page.
PROBABILITY OF PATERNITY: 0.00%
"Dominic isn't his father either," Russo said quietly.
I stared at the paper. If Dominic wasn't the father, and Anthony wasn't the father... then who was?
Grace reached into her pocket. She pulled out the silver locket she had found in the basement—the one with the photo of Victoria holding baby Nicholas.
"Detective," Grace said softly. "When I was in the basement... I found something else in those tax boxes. I didn't know what it meant until now."
She reached into her shoe and pulled out a folded, yellowed piece of paper.
It was a birth certificate from twenty-one years ago.
The mother's name was Elena Caruso.
The father's name was blank.
But at the bottom of the certificate, signed as the delivering physician, was a name that made my blood run cold.
Dr. Elias Hale.
May you like
Victoria's father. The rival mob boss Dominic had murdered ten years ago.
"Elena didn't have an affair with Anthony," Grace whispered. "She had an affair with the man her husband hated most. Nicholas is Victoria's half-brother."
