Chapter 2 - The Portrait on the Landing
The old woman turned and vanished into the shadows of the upper hallway, the sharp click of her heels echoing like gunfire down the grand corridor.
Liana stood frozen at the base of the stairs, the sleeping child heavy and warm against her chest. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
“Who is Giulia?” Liana asked, her voice shaking as she looked up at Matteo.
Matteo didn't answer right away. His dark eyes flicked from his mother’s abandoned glass on the landing back to Liana’s face. Something cold and calculating swept across his expression, replacing the desperate father with the dangerous man the city feared.
“Bring the boy upstairs,” Matteo ordered quietly, gesturing to the guards to hold their fire. “Now.”
Liana followed him up the sweeping marble staircase. Her knees felt hollow, her vision blurring at the edges. Every step felt like walking deeper into a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.
When they reached the second-floor landing, Matteo stopped directly beneath a massive, oil-painted portrait encased in a heavy carved gold frame.
Liana lifted her head. The breath was knocked clean out of her lungs.
The woman in the painting sat on a velvet settee, wearing an elegant emerald dress and emerald earrings. She had dark mahogany hair, high cheekbones, a soft dip in her chin, and wide, expressive hazel eyes.
It was Liana’s face.
Not a resemblance. Not a coincidence. It was her exact likeness, painted down to the faint, tiny mole just above her left collarbone.
“That’s Giulia,” Matteo said, his voice dropping into an icy register behind her. “My wife. She died in an automobile accident nine months ago, three days before Nico was born.”
Liana stared at the canvas, her hand clutching the sleeping baby closer. “I... I’ve never seen this painting in my life. I’ve never been in this house before yesterday.”
“You look like her double,” Matteo said, stepping into her personal space. He reached out, his long fingers lightly brushing the edge of Liana’s jaw. His touch was cold, precise. “Except Giulia was the daughter of the Moretti family. She grew up in a mansion in Milan. You are a maid from South Brooklyn who buried a baby three weeks ago.”
“I’m telling you the truth!” Liana cried softly, flinching away from his touch. “I don't know who your wife was! I came here because an agency placed me! I needed to pay rent!”
“And the baby?” Matteo pressed, his eyes tracking the way Nico slept peacefully against her neck, his tiny fist still curled in her shirt. “How do you explain the birthmark? How do you explain that he hasn't let anyone touch him without screaming for three weeks, but he fell asleep in your arms in ten seconds?”
“Because he’s mine,” Liana whispered, the terrifying truth bursting out of her chest before she could stop it. “Oh God... Matteo, he’s my son.”
Matteo’s expression turned lethal. He grabbed her upper arm—not enough to bruise, but enough to lock her in place.
“Careful,” he warned softly, his voice dangerously low. “You are in my house, standing under my wife’s picture, holding my heir. Do not say something you cannot survive.”
“My baby died at St. Vincent on August twenty-second!” Liana sobbed, tears spilling over her eyelashes. “They brought him to me wrapped in a blanket. They told me his heart stopped in the nursery! They wouldn't let me hold him long because they said... they said he needed to go to the morgue! What if he didn't die, Matteo? What if they took him? What if they swapped him?!”
Matteo stared at her, his dark eyes searching every inch of her face. For a fraction of a second, a crack of doubt appeared in his hard composure. St. Vincent was a Varric-funded hospital. His mother, Donna Elena, sat on the board of directors. His family owned the private wing where Giulia had been rushed after the car crash.
Before he could answer, Donna Elena reappeared at the far end of the hallway, flanked by two older, heavily built guards.
“Matteo, step away from that woman,” the old matriarch commanded, her voice cold as steel. “She is an intruder. She was planted here by our enemies to mess with your head.”
“She has Giulia’s face, Mother,” Matteo said without turning around.
“Giulia is dead and buried in the family vault!” Donna Elena declared, her hand trembling as she pointed a manicured finger at Liana. “This girl is a fake. A body double designed to manipulate you while you are vulnerable. Guards, take the baby and throw her out onto the street!”
The two guards took a step forward.
Liana instinctively backed away, pulling Nico tighter into her arms. Nico stirred, letting out a sharp, frightened whimpering sound.
May you like
Matteo raised his hand, stopping the guards in their tracks.
“Nobody touches the child,” Matteo growled. He turned slowly to face his mother, his eyes burning with a dark, dangerous fire. “And nobody leaves this house until I get some answers.”
