Chapter 4 - The Legacy of Blood
The silver frame felt heavy in my hands, as if the silver were made of solid lead.
"I don't understand," I stammered, my head spinning as the air in the quiet study felt thick and suffocating. "I'm twenty-four... if my mother was Elena Valenti, then why did she hide me? Why did she raise me in cheap apartments under fake names?"
Dante walked around the desk, leaning his broad frame against the edge, looking at me with an unyielding intensity.
"Elena Valenti was the younger sister of Carmine Valenti—the old Don," Dante explained quietly. "Twenty-four years ago, Elena was promised in marriage to a dangerous enforcer from the New York families to solidify an alliance. But before the wedding could take place, Elena became pregnant out of wedlock. The Valenti family considered it a dishonor that threatened the entire syndicate."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "So she ran?"
"Carmine ordered her to give the child away the moment it was born," Dante said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, yet carrying a dark weight. "Instead, Elena faked her own death with the help of a sympathetic doctor, took her newborn daughter, and vanished into thin air. The family searched for her for years. When they couldn't find her, Carmine scrubbed her name from the family records entirely."
I looked back down at the faded photograph of my mother and Sofia. They looked so young, so full of life, completely oblivious to the bloody violence that would eventually tear their lives apart.
"Sofia was my aunt," I whispered, the realization settling into my bones like ice. "Which means... Leo is my cousin."
"Your first cousin," Dante confirmed softly. "And you carry the same Valenti bloodline. You have your mother's eyes, Alina, but you have Sofia's voice. That's why Leo reached for you. He didn't just smell the lavender—he recognized the blood."
I sank into the soft leather armchair across from the desk, burying my face in my hands. All those years of living in the shadows, moving from city to city, changing my name every time a stranger looked at us too long—it hadn't been paranoia. My mother had been protecting me from her own family.
"Eight months ago..." I whispered, looking up through my tears. "My mother went to the grocery store on a Tuesday evening and never came back. Her car was found abandoned near the harbor with her purse inside."
Dante’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening. "Eight months ago was when the old Don, Carmine Valenti, fell ill. His son, Lorenzo—your cousin—took over the family operations. Lorenzo is a ruthless psychopath who clears away any old debts. He must have finally located your mother."
A cold, sickening dread pool in my stomach. "Did he... did he kill her?"
"I don't know," Dante admitted flatly. "If Lorenzo found her, she was either eliminated or taken into custody to force her to hand over whatever assets she left behind. But one thing is certain, Alina: if Lorenzo Valenti finds out that Elena’s daughter is alive and standing in my house, he will stop at nothing to eliminate you."
Before I could answer, a loud, panicked bang echoed down the hallway outside the study.
The heavy double doors burst open. Marco rushed into the room, his tactical vest fastened tight, a high-caliber pistol already drawn in his right hand.
"Boss!" Marco shouted, his breath heavy. "We have a breach at the outer perimeter gate! Two vehicles just rammed through the security barrier!"
Dante didn't flinch. He stood up smoothly, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out a heavy black hand-cannon, sliding the action back with a lethal, metallic click.
"How many?" Dante asked, his voice dead calm.
"At least eight men, heavily armed!" Marco reported, checking his radio as gunfire suddenly erupted in the distance, echoing off the stone walls of the estate. "It's Lorenzo's men! They knew you brought the girl here!"
Panic flared through my chest like wildfire. "Leo!" I screamed, standing up instantly. "Leo is upstairs alone!"
"Marco, get her to the safe room!" Dante commanded, stepping past us toward the hallway.
"No!" I shouted, grabbing Dante’s arm with all my strength. "I'm not leaving without Leo! He's upstairs in my room!"
Dante looked down at my hand clutching his suit sleeve. He saw no fear for myself in my eyes—only a fierce, protective fury for his child. Something softened in his dark, lethal gaze.
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"Follow me," Dante ordered, his deep voice cutting through the rising noise of alarms and distant gunfire. "And stay behind me!"
We sprinted down the long, carpeted corridor of the east wing just as the heavy glass windows at the end of the hall shattered under a hail of bullets.
