Three more feet. That was all I needed to reach the grand marble fireplace.

The room froze.

The silence that followed was suffocating, heavy enough to crush the air right out of my lungs. I sat beside Luca, unable to process the words that had just spilled from Victor Bellini’s trembling lips.

Luca Moretti... wasn't a real Moretti?

I turned my head slowly to look at Luca. His face was carved out of stone. Not a single muscle twitched. His dark eyes remained fixed on the faded photograph resting on the wooden table.

"Say that again," Luca's voice came out dangerously quiet.

Victor wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "It's the truth, Luca! Thirty years ago, your father, Antonio Moretti, was fighting a bloody territory war. He needed an heir to secure his position as head of the Chicago Syndicate. If the family found out Eleanor gave birth to a stillborn girl, Antonio’s rivals would have stripped him of his rank and killed him."

"Go on," Luca said, his tone icy.

"Eleanor was hysterical," Victor continued hurriedly. "Teresa Vance was working the night shift. She knew a young, destitute woman who had just given birth to a healthy baby boy in an abandoned building down the street. Teresa brought the baby into the hospital, Eleanor forged the birth certificate, and they paid Teresa a million dollars to disappear forever."

Luca slowly lifted his gaze to look at Vanessa.

"And how did you know about this?" Luca asked her.

Vanessa swallowed nervously, looking at her father for support before speaking. "My... my mother was close friends with your mother, Luca. Before Eleanor died five years ago, she confessed the story to my mother in secret. She told her that she hid the proof—the original adoption paper and Teresa’s photo—behind her wedding portrait so no one would ever find it."

"So you didn't just want to sell the painting," Luca realized, a dark grin spreading across his face. "You wanted to find that photograph and destroy it. Because if I wasn't a legitimate Moretti, I couldn't hold the leadership of the syndicate."

"We were going to use it as leverage!" Vanessa blurted out desperately, her composure entirely shattering. "After we got married, if you ever tried to cross my family or divorce me, we were going to expose you! You would have lost everything!"

"You vicious snake," I couldn't stop myself from speaking out. I looked at Vanessa with pure disgust. "He trusted you. He welcomed you into his home."

"Shut up, you stupid servant!" Vanessa shrieked, turning her fury on me. "You ruined everything! If you had just let them take the damn painting, none of this would have happened!"

Before Vanessa could finish her sentence, Luca slammed his hand onto the mahogany table. The violent crack echoed like a gunshot through the room.

Vanessa flinched backward, shutting her mouth instantly.

Luca stood up slowly, drawing himself to his full, imposing height.

"Daniel!" he called out.

The heavy doors opened immediately, and Daniel stepped into the room accompanied by four armed security guards.

"Take Victor and Vanessa Bellini to the holding quarters in the east wing," Luca ordered smoothly. "Strip them of their phones, their watches, and any communication devices. They do not leave this property."

"You can't hold us here!" Victor yelled, standing up angrily. "This is kidnapping! My men will come looking for us!"

"Your men are currently being disarmed by my lieutenants as we speak," Luca replied coldly. "You underestimate how fast I move, Victor."

The guards grabbed Victor and Vanessa by the arms, dragging them out of the dining room. Vanessa screamed and cursed my name the entire way down the hallway until the heavy oak doors slammed shut.

Once again, the room fell silent.

Luca stood at the head of the table, staring out the massive window into the rain. He looked isolated, carrying a weight that would have broken any ordinary man. The entire foundation of his life—his name, his legacy, his identity—had just been ripped away in a matter of minutes.

I slowly stood up from my chair and walked over to him, standing a respectful step behind his right side.

"Mr. Moretti...?" I asked gently.

He didn't turn around. "All my life, Claire... I bled for the Moretti name. I fought wars, took bullets, and built an empire to honor my parents. And now I find out I am a ghost. A nameless bastard bought in a laundry basket."

"No," I said firmly, stepping closer so he could see my face.

Luca turned his head to look at me, surprised by the conviction in my voice.

"You are the man who protected this estate," I told him, looking straight into his dark eyes. "You are the man who paid for my mother's hospice care when no one else cared if she lived or died. You built this empire with your own hands, not your bloodline. A name doesn't make a man, Mr. Moretti. Your choices do."

Luca stared at me, his intense gaze searching my eyes for any sign of pity or deceit. He found none—only raw, unyielding truth.

A faint, genuine smile touched the corners of his lips for the first time in days.

He reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from my cheek. "You're a remarkable woman, Claire Morgan."

Before I could answer, Daniel re-entered the room, holding his tablet with a serious expression.

"Boss," Daniel reported. "We ran the high-res scan of Teresa Vance through the state database like you asked."

Luca’s expression instantly turned sharp. "Did you find her?"

"She passed away six years ago, sir," Daniel said softly. "But... we found her private journal entries archived in her estate records."

"And?" Luca demanded.

"Teresa Vance wrote down the name of the destitute young woman who gave birth to you thirty years ago," Daniel revealed, looking up from his tablet. "Her name was Margaret Morgan."

My heart stopped.

The air left my lungs completely. I stumbled backward, my hand gripping the edge of the dining table to keep from collapsing.

Luca turned to me, his eyes wide with absolute shock.

"Claire..." Luca whispered, his voice trembling. "What was your mother's name?"