Chapter 13 - The Child Hidden in the Moretti Conservatory
# Chapter 13 - The Child Hidden in the Moretti Conservatory
The boy standing behind the locked glass doors of the Moretti conservatory had been taught to call Dominic Moretti his uncle.
But according to Sarah Voss, he was the child Elena Rossi had given birth to as Baby E.
The real fifth son.
The boy whose identity had been erased before his mother ever regained consciousness.
Dominic stood inside the former Bellwether residence near Rockland, holding the frightened child everyone had called Gabriel for six years.
"Say that again," he demanded.
Sarah stood beside the fireplace, her expression pale.
"Elena's fifth baby was taken to the Moretti conservatory."
"Six years ago?"
"Yes."
"And he's still there?"
Sarah hesitated.
"That's where he was being kept when I last confirmed his location."
Dominic felt his pulse hammer.
"When?"
"Three weeks ago."
He stared at her.
Three weeks.
The same period when Anthony Vale had supposedly died.
The same period when Bellwether began transferring children between facilities.
The same period when someone had decided the original identities could no longer remain concealed.
"Why would Richard keep a child at the conservatory?" Dominic asked.
Sarah looked toward Detective Mitchell.
"Because nobody searches for a missing child inside a family home when everyone believes he's already dead."
Dominic's grip tightened around the boy in his arms.
The child looked up.
"Daddy?"
Dominic immediately softened.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Am I in trouble?"
His heart broke.
"No. Never."
The boy studied him.
"Then why are you angry?"
Dominic swallowed.
"Because some people hurt you. And they hurt your brothers."
The child lowered his eyes.
"They said you wouldn't want me if you knew."
Dominic felt something twist inside his chest.
He crouched, allowing the boy to stand while keeping a reassuring hand nearby.
"Listen to me. Whatever name someone gave you, whatever the records say, none of this is your fault."
The child looked uncertain.
"Even if I'm not Gabriel?"
Dominic's eyes burned.
"Even then."
For the first time, the boy smiled.
It was small.
Fragile.
But real.
And Dominic realized that discovering the biological truth was only one part of what these children needed.
They also needed someone who would stop making their identities a condition of being loved.
Detective Mitchell asked Sarah to sit down.
"We need to establish exactly what you know about the child at the conservatory."
Sarah folded her hands.
"His current name is Nicholas."
Dominic froze.
"Nicholas?"
"Yes."
"My son Nico's full name is Nicholas."
Sarah looked at him.
"I know."
An uncomfortable silence followed.
Dominic's thoughts raced.
Elena had named her third-born son Nico.
Had someone inside the Moretti family deliberately given the hidden child the same name?
Was the duplication part of the identity manipulation?
Or simply another carefully planted source of confusion?
"Who named him?" Mitchell asked.
"Richard."
"Why?"
Sarah looked toward Dominic.
"Because Richard wanted the boy to grow up believing he belonged to a different branch of the family."
Dominic frowned.
"Whose child did he claim Nicholas was?"
Sarah hesitated.
"His late wife's nephew."
Dominic stared.
Richard's wife, Teresa, had died eight years earlier.
He remembered her as a reserved woman who rarely attended family gatherings.
She had no children of her own.
And Richard had often spoken about supporting distant relatives.
Dominic had never questioned the arrangement.
But now he remembered something.
A child.
At the conservatory.
During a Christmas gathering three years earlier.
A little boy in a navy sweater, sitting beside Richard's housekeeper.
Dominic had asked who he was.
Richard had replied casually, "A relative from Teresa's side."
Dominic had nodded.
Then forgotten him.
The memory struck with unbearable force.
He had seen his son.
Possibly.
He had walked past him.
Spoken to him.
And never known.
"Did Nicholas attend family events?" Dominic asked quietly.
Sarah nodded.
"Occasionally."
His stomach tightened.
"Did he ever meet me?"
Sarah's expression changed.
"Yes."
Dominic closed his eyes.
"When?"
"At least twice."
He remembered the Christmas gathering.
The little boy.
The navy sweater.
Richard's dismissive explanation.
Dominic pressed a hand against his forehead.
"I was there."
Sarah said nothing.
"I saw him."
The boy standing beside Dominic looked up curiously.
"Who?"
Dominic swallowed.
"Someone I've been trying to find."
The child thought about that.
"Like how you found me?"
Dominic looked at him.
"Yes."
Then he turned toward Mitchell.
"We need to go to the conservatory."
At Seabrook, Elena was standing beside the kitchen sink when Dominic called.
She answered before the first ring finished.
"Did you find Gabriel?"
Dominic closed his eyes.
"I found a boy who's been living under that name."
Silence.
Then Elena whispered, "What does that mean?"
He looked toward the child sitting beside Isabella.
The boy was showing her a drawing of the moon.
Isabella listened with tears in her eyes.
"Elena, he's safe. He's with me."
Her breath caught.
"Let me speak to him."
Dominic hesitated.
"There's something you need to understand first."
"Dominic."
Her voice broke.
"Please don't tell me there's another lie."
He couldn't answer.
Elena began crying.
"Is he my son?"
Dominic swallowed.
"We don't know yet. The documents we've seen identify him differently, and we need independent testing."
For several seconds, there was no sound.
Then she whispered, "But he's a child."
"Yes."
"He's frightened?"
"Yes."
"Then tell him I'm not angry."
Dominic felt his throat tighten.
"I already did."
Elena exhaled shakily.
"And tell him he has somewhere safe to go."
Dominic closed his eyes.
"I will."
A pause followed.
Then he said, "Sarah claims your biological fifth baby is at the Moretti conservatory."
Elena stopped breathing.
"What?"
"His name may be Nicholas."
"No."
"Elena—"
"No, Dominic. They can't keep doing this."
Her voice rose.
"Every time we find one child, someone tells us another child has been switched. Every time we think we know who our sons are, another person changes the story."
"I know."
"Do you?"
He accepted the anger.
She had earned it.
For six years, Elena had raised four boys alone while the Moretti family manipulated the truth.
Now she was being told that even the number of children she had lost remained uncertain.
"I want them all safe," she whispered.
Dominic's expression softened.
"So do I."
"Not just the ones who are biologically ours."
"I know."
She took a shaky breath.
"Then bring that boy home."
Dominic looked toward the child.
"I will arrange for him to be protected and medically assessed. But we also need to establish who his legal guardians are."
Elena was quiet.
Then she whispered, "Tell him someone is waiting for him."
At 9:34 p.m., Detective Mitchell contacted Boston authorities about the conservatory.
The estate belonged to a Moretti family trust, but the residential wing was managed through a company controlled by Richard.
Mitchell explained that the investigation involved possible unlawful child transfers, falsified guardianship records, and immediate concerns for a minor's welfare.
Dominic waited impatiently.
Adrian approached.
"Sarah has agreed to provide a formal statement."
"Does she know where Nicholas sleeps?"
"She claims he has a room in the east wing."
"Has she seen him recently?"
"Three weeks ago."
Dominic looked toward the window.
"Then Richard may have moved him."
"Possibly."
Adrian hesitated.
"Dominic, we need to consider another possibility."
"What?"
"Sarah has been using Elena's identity. She's lied about her relationship to Isabella. She may be telling the truth about Nicholas, but we can't assume it."
Dominic nodded slowly.
"I know."
"She also has a personal interest in the children."
"What interest?"
"That's what we haven't established."
Dominic thought about Sarah's claim that she had given the boys a home.
Her apparent tenderness toward the child called Gabriel.
Her resentment toward Elena.
And her willingness to impersonate a mother.
"She wants to be needed," Dominic said.
Adrian looked at him.
"What?"
"Sarah has spent her life being told she belongs to someone else. Maybe she believes rescuing these children will give her a family."
"That might explain some of her behavior."
"Not excuse it."
"No."
Dominic stared toward the stairs.
"But it means she may be protecting the truth selectively."
Adrian nodded.
"And she may know where the real Serena is."
At 10:12 p.m., Isabella sat beside the boy who had been called Gabriel.
He was drawing stars.
She watched his small hands moving across the paper.
"Do you like astronomy?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Yes."
"What's your favorite planet?"
"Saturn."
"Why?"
"Because it has rings."
Isabella smiled.
"My son Anthony loved the stars too."
The boy looked up.
"Anthony?"
"Yes."
"Big Anthony?"
She froze.
"What did you say?"
The child returned to his drawing.
"There's Big Anthony and Little Anthony."
Isabella felt her pulse quicken.
"Do you know Big Anthony?"
He nodded.
"He's nice."
"Where is he?"
The boy shrugged.
"He went away."
"Did he tell you where?"
"No."
Isabella hesitated.
"Did he ever talk about his mother?"
The child's expression changed.
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He said she had a house near the ocean."
Isabella's eyes filled.
"And a garden."
She covered her mouth.
The boy continued.
"He said she liked white flowers."
Tears began streaming down her cheeks.
Anthony remembered.
Her son remembered the stories she had written in letters that never reached him.
Or perhaps he had found them later.
Either way, he knew.
"Did Big Anthony tell you anything else?" she whispered.
The child thought for a moment.
"He said there was a little girl."
Isabella froze.
"What little girl?"
The boy frowned.
"He said she was lost."
"Did he say her name?"
A pause.
Then the child nodded.
"Serena."
Isabella pressed a hand against her chest.
Her daughter.
The daughter whose death certificate had been signed by Margaret Hart.
The daughter Sarah Voss had apparently impersonated.
"Did Anthony know where Serena was?"
The boy looked uncertain.
"He said she wasn't where people thought."
Isabella felt cold.
"What does that mean?"
The boy stared at her.
Then whispered, "He said she lived with the wrong family."
At 11:03 p.m., Sloane Barrett found a way out of the locked room.
Charles had returned with food an hour earlier.
He looked frightened.
More frightened than Sloane had ever seen him.
He claimed Richard was no longer following their agreement.
He claimed someone inside Bellwether had begun releasing documents without authorization.
And he insisted that she remain hidden until the trust verification concluded.
Sloane refused.
"You took my son," she said.
Charles sat heavily.
"I arranged for him to receive care."
"You told me he died."
"I was trying to protect you."
She laughed bitterly.
"That's what every man in this family says."
Her father's expression hardened.
"Your relationship with Daniel Mercer would have destroyed everything."
"Jonathan was my child."
Charles looked away.
"Yes."
"And you stole him."
He didn't answer.
Sloane stepped closer.
"Was Daniel his father?"
Charles remained silent.
"Or was it Anthony Vale?"
His face changed.
Sloane saw it.
For the first time, she understood that the conflicting records weren't merely mistakes.
Her father knew which man was biologically related to Jonathan.
And he had spent six years preventing anyone from verifying the truth.
"Tell me," she whispered.
Charles stood.
"You don't understand how dangerous Anthony became."
"Because he wanted his child?"
"Because he wanted the records."
Sloane stared.
"The registry?"
Charles's expression changed.
"You know about it?"
She stepped backward.
Too late, she realized she'd revealed more than she intended.
Charles approached.
"Where is it?"
Sloane shook her head.
"I don't know."
He grabbed her arm.
"Don't lie."
She pulled away.
"Get your hands off me."
For a moment, his polished composure disappeared.
Then he released her.
"I'm sorry."
Sloane stared at him.
She no longer recognized the man who had raised her.
The father who bought her birthday presents.
Who attended her school recitals.
Who taught her to ride a bicycle.
That man had apparently been capable of ordering the disappearance of children.
Including his own grandson.
Charles turned toward the door.
"You'll understand when this is finished."
He locked it behind him.
But he failed to notice that Sloane had taken the small brass key from his jacket pocket during their struggle.
Minutes later, she unlocked the door.
And escaped.
At 11:46 p.m., Dominic arrived in Boston.
The Moretti conservatory stood behind tall iron gates overlooking the Charles River.
Its glass walls reflected the city lights.
Two nights earlier, he had been expected to propose to Sloane Barrett here.
Instead, he had discovered four sons.
Now he was returning because a fifth child might be hidden somewhere inside the estate.
Detective Mitchell coordinated with local authorities.
Dominic remained outside the entrance with Adrian.
Marco stood nearby.
"Any movement?" Dominic asked.
"Security staff at the east wing. No sign of Richard."
"Charles?"
"Nothing."
Dominic looked toward the building.
He remembered Christmas dinners.
Family celebrations.
Business receptions.
The countless evenings he had walked through those corridors without questioning who lived behind the private doors.
And he remembered the boy in the navy sweater.
A little boy sitting quietly beside Richard's housekeeper.
Had that been Nicholas?
Had he looked at Dominic and wondered why a man who resembled him never spoke to him?
"Dominic."
Adrian interrupted his thoughts.
"The authorities have obtained access."
Dominic straightened.
"Let's go."
The conservatory's east wing was unlike the rest of the estate.
The public rooms were grand.
Marble floors.
Crystal chandeliers.
Expensive artwork.
But the east wing was quiet.
Almost domestic.
Children's drawings decorated a hallway.
A small bookshelf stood beside a staircase.
And near the final room was a pair of blue sneakers.
Dominic stopped.
The sneakers were tiny.
About the size his sons wore.
He looked at Mitchell.
"That's his room?"
She nodded.
"According to the housekeeper."
Dominic felt his heartbeat accelerate.
The door was closed.
Mitchell knocked.
"Nicholas?"
No answer.
She tried again.
"We're here to make sure you're safe."
Silence.
Then a small voice came from inside.
"Who is it?"
Dominic's heart nearly stopped.
Mitchell spoke gently.
"My name is Sarah Mitchell. I'm a detective."
A pause.
"Am I in trouble?"
Dominic closed his eyes.
Again.
Another child.
Another little boy whose first question was whether he had done something wrong.
"No," Mitchell answered. "You're not in trouble."
The door opened slowly.
A dark-haired boy stood in the doorway.
He wore navy pajamas and held a worn stuffed bear.
His brown eyes were familiar.
Painfully familiar.
Dominic stared.
The boy looked almost exactly like Luca.
Like Leo.
Like Nico.
Like Matteo.
Like the child called Gabriel.
But there was something different.
A small pale mark beneath his left eyebrow.
And a serious expression Dominic recognized from his own childhood photographs.
The boy looked up at him.
"Are you Uncle Dominic?"
Dominic couldn't speak.
The child smiled shyly.
"I remember you."
Dominic crouched.
"You do?"
The boy nodded.
"You gave me a toy car at Christmas."
Dominic felt something break inside him.
He remembered.
The little boy sitting beside the housekeeper.
The quiet child nobody had properly introduced.
Dominic had handed him a toy car from a gift basket.
The boy had smiled.
Dominic had walked away.
Now the child was standing before him again.
And Dominic realized he might have missed six years with another son while believing he was simply being generous to a distant relative.
"What's your name?" Dominic asked gently.
"Nicholas."
"How old are you?"
"Six."
His voice trembled.
"I'll be seven tomorrow."
Dominic stopped breathing.
October 14.
The same birthday.
The same age.
The same face.
He looked toward Mitchell.
She remained composed, but her expression had changed.
The resemblance was striking.
Yet only independent genetic testing could establish biological identity.
"Nicholas," Dominic said softly, "who takes care of you?"
The boy looked toward the hallway.
"Mrs. Bell."
"Where's Mrs. Bell?"
"Downstairs."
"And Richard?"
Nicholas's expression immediately tightened.
"Uncle Richard?"
"Yes."
The boy nodded.
"He left."
"When?"
"After dinner."
"Did he say where he was going?"
Nicholas shook his head.
Then whispered, "He said I had to be ready tomorrow."
Dominic felt cold.
"Ready for what?"
The boy looked down at his bear.
"The ceremony."
At 12:29 a.m., the housekeeper arrived.
Her name was Margaret Bellamy.
She was sixty-one, with silver hair and an exhausted face.
She had cared for Nicholas since he was an infant.
When she saw Dominic, tears filled her eyes.
"Mr. Moretti."
Dominic turned.
"Mrs. Bellamy."
She looked toward Nicholas.
"Is he in trouble?"
"No," Mitchell answered.
The housekeeper visibly relaxed.
Dominic stepped closer.
"How long has he lived here?"
"Since he was a baby."
"Who brought him?"
She hesitated.
"Mr. Richard."
"Did he tell you who the parents were?"
"Only that the child was a relative who needed care."
"Did you ever see his birth certificate?"
"No."
"Medical records?"
"Only the documents his private physician supplied."
"Which physician?"
Her expression changed.
"Dr. Whitmore."
Dominic felt his jaw tighten.
The same doctor who supervised Gabriel's care.
The same doctor whose credentials appeared on disputed medical orders.
"Did Nicholas ever leave the estate?"
"Sometimes."
"Where?"
"Private appointments. A few family gatherings. Occasionally the garden."
Dominic stared.
"He didn't attend school?"
"No. Tutors came here."
"Why?"
She looked ashamed.
"Mr. Richard said he had a medical vulnerability."
Dominic looked toward Nicholas.
The child stood beside Mitchell, holding his bear.
He appeared healthy.
Alert.
Curious.
A six-year-old who had apparently spent most of his life behind the walls of a family estate.
"Did he have serious health problems?" Dominic asked.
Mrs. Bellamy hesitated.
"Not that I ever saw."
At 1:04 a.m., Mitchell's team located Nicholas's documents.
A birth certificate.
A private guardianship order.
Medical records.
And a sealed trust beneficiary file.
Dominic examined the copies permitted for review.
The birth certificate listed the mother as:
TERESA MORETTI
Richard's deceased wife.
Dominic froze.
"That's impossible."
Adrian looked up.
"Why?"
"Teresa died eight years ago."
The certificate was dated six years earlier.
Two years after her death.
Adrian stared.
"Then the document is false."
"At minimum, the maternal information is inconsistent with the known death record," Mitchell said.
Dominic nodded.
Another fabricated mother.
Another child assigned to someone who couldn't possibly have given birth to him.
Then Adrian opened the guardianship file.
Richard had signed as legal guardian.
Charles Barrett appeared as the certifying trustee.
And beneath the signature was a clause.
BENEFICIARY IDENTIFICATION TO BE VERIFIED UPON SEVENTH BIRTHDAY
Dominic felt his stomach twist.
There it was.
The birthday deadline.
The trust.
The child.
Nicholas had been raised inside the conservatory not merely because someone wanted to conceal him.
He had apparently been prepared for a legal event that would occur the moment he turned seven.
"Who's conducting tomorrow's ceremony?" Dominic asked.
Mrs. Bellamy looked frightened.
"Mr. Richard arranged it."
"Where?"
"In the main conservatory."
"Who will attend?"
She hesitated.
"Lawyers. Trustees. Several family representatives."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"And the child?"
"Mr. Richard said Nicholas would receive a special inheritance."
Nicholas looked up.
"Uncle Richard said I'd become important."
Dominic felt sick.
The boy had no idea what that meant.
He only knew that adults had spent his life preparing him for a ceremony he didn't understand.
At 1:38 a.m., Dominic asked to speak privately with Nicholas, with Mitchell and a child welfare professional nearby.
The boy sat on a small chair.
Dominic crouched in front of him.
"Nicholas, do you know who your mother is?"
The child nodded.
"Aunt Teresa."
Dominic swallowed.
"Have you ever met her?"
Nicholas looked confused.
"No. Uncle Richard said she died."
"Did he tell you she was your mother?"
"Sometimes."
Dominic frowned.
"What do you mean, sometimes?"
The boy looked down.
"He said she was my first mommy."
Dominic felt cold.
"And your other mommy?"
Nicholas hesitated.
"She came when I was little."
"What was her name?"
The boy thought carefully.
"Elena."
Dominic stopped breathing.
Elena.
He looked toward Adrian.
Then back at Nicholas.
"Do you remember what she looked like?"
Nicholas nodded.
"Brown hair."
"Anything else?"
"She smelled like flowers."
Dominic's heart tightened.
Elena wore a particular rose perfume.
The same fragrance she had worn six years earlier.
The same perfume Dominic remembered from their relationship.
But Elena had never knowingly visited Nicholas.
"Did she tell you anything?" Dominic asked.
Nicholas nodded.
"She sang."
Dominic closed his eyes.
The lullaby.
Again.
"Do you remember the song?"
Nicholas began humming softly.
The same Italian melody.
Dominic felt his chest ache.
Someone had deliberately used Elena's voice, appearance, and personal memories to construct the children's understanding of their mother.
Or someone had brought a woman who resembled Elena into their lives.
"Was that woman here recently?" Dominic asked.
Nicholas shook his head.
"Not for a long time."
"When was the last time?"
The boy frowned.
"I don't know."
Then he added:
"She came when Gabriel was here."
Dominic went completely still.
"Gabriel was here?"
Nicholas nodded.
"Yes."
"When?"
"A long time ago."
"Did you play together?"
"Sometimes."
Dominic felt his heartbeat accelerate.
The child called Gabriel had visited the conservatory.
The hidden child Nicholas had spent time with him.
And both had apparently been taught to associate Elena with a woman who wasn't Elena.
"Do you know where Gabriel is now?" Dominic asked.
Nicholas shook his head.
"Uncle Richard said he got sick."
Dominic swallowed.
"Did he tell you anything else?"
The boy lowered his voice.
"He said Gabriel wasn't allowed to come back."
"Why?"
Nicholas looked frightened.
"Because he found the picture."
Dominic leaned closer.
"What picture?"
The child hesitated.
Then whispered, "The one with all the babies."
At 2:16 a.m., Dominic received a call from Sarah Voss.
He answered immediately.
"We found Nicholas."
A long silence followed.
Then Sarah whispered, "Is he safe?"
"Yes."
She exhaled.
"Good."
Dominic looked toward the child's bedroom.
"Why did you send us here?"
"Because Richard was going to use him tomorrow."
"Use him how?"
"To complete the beneficiary verification."
"We know."
Sarah hesitated.
"You don't know everything."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"Then tell me."
"The trust requires the designated beneficiary to be identified through a sealed document and supporting genetic evidence."
"And?"
"Richard intended to present Nicholas as that beneficiary."
Dominic stared.
"Is he?"
"I don't know whether the genetic records are genuine."
The answer surprised him.
For once, Sarah admitted uncertainty.
"Then why was Nicholas hidden here?"
"Because his legal identity had been constructed to satisfy the trust's paperwork."
Dominic felt cold.
"Who constructed it?"
"Charles."
"And Richard?"
"He kept Nicholas here."
Dominic glanced toward the boy.
"Who is Nicholas biologically?"
Sarah was silent.
Then she whispered, "That's the truth Anthony tried to preserve."
"Where is Anthony?"
"I don't know."
"Where is Serena?"
Another pause.
"Dominic."
"What?"
"There's something you need to understand about Isabella's daughter."
He clenched his jaw.
"Go on."
"Serena didn't die in 1987."
Dominic stopped.
"Then where is she?"
Sarah inhaled.
"She grew up in the Bellwether system."
"Under what name?"
"Several."
Dominic felt his pulse quicken.
"Give me one."
Sarah hesitated.
Then said:
"Margaret Hart."
Dominic froze.
Margaret Hart.
The physician who had signed Serena's death certificate.
Evelyn's supposed older sister.
But the chronology made no sense.
A child born in 1987 could not have signed her own death certificate that same year.
Dominic said as much.
Sarah answered quietly.
"Exactly."
Dominic stared.
"The name Margaret Hart was used by more than one person?"
"Yes."
"And Evelyn?"
Sarah paused.
"Evelyn knows."
Dominic closed his eyes.
Another reused identity.
Another false family relationship.
Another person who had helped maintain the system.
"Where is Serena now?" he demanded.
Sarah's voice became strained.
"I don't know."
"Sarah."
"I haven't seen her in years."
"Then why tell me this?"
"Because Richard has been using her identity to authorize transfers."
Dominic felt a chill.
"Is Serena still alive?"
Sarah hesitated.
"I believe so."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"You're giving me fragments again."
"Because fragments are all I have."
Then she added something unexpected.
"Dominic, ask Nicholas about the woman who visited him last week."
He froze.
"What woman?"
Sarah lowered her voice.
"The woman who called herself his mother."
At 2:49 a.m., Dominic returned to Nicholas's room.
The child was sitting beside Mrs. Bellamy.
He looked tired.
Dominic crouched.
"Nicholas, can I ask one more question?"
The boy nodded.
"Did someone visit you last week?"
Nicholas looked toward Mrs. Bellamy.
She frowned.
"Mr. Richard told me that was a medical appointment."
Dominic became still.
"What appointment?"
"A woman came to examine him."
"Who?"
"She said she was a doctor."
"Name?"
Mrs. Bellamy hesitated.
"Dr. Hart."
Dominic felt cold.
Evelyn?
Margaret?
Or another person using the Hart identity?
He looked at Nicholas.
"What did she look like?"
The boy thought carefully.
"Brown hair."
"How old?"
He shrugged.
"Big."
Dominic almost smiled despite himself.
"Was she nice?"
Nicholas hesitated.
"Sometimes."
"What did she do?"
"She took some blood."
Dominic's expression changed.
"A blood test?"
The boy nodded.
"Then she asked if I knew my real name."
Dominic felt his pulse hammer.
"What did you say?"
"Nicholas."
"And what did she say?"
The child lowered his eyes.
"She said that wasn't my first name."
Dominic stopped breathing.
"What was?"
Nicholas looked toward Mrs. Bellamy.
Then whispered:
"Gabriel."
At 3:17 a.m., Dominic stood alone beneath the conservatory's glass ceiling.
The city lights reflected across the polished marble floor.
Two nights earlier, he had believed his greatest problem was marrying a woman he didn't love.
Now he had discovered children hidden in his own family's properties.
A biological fifth son whose identity had been altered.
A boy called Gabriel who might have originally been registered under Sloane Barrett's name.
Another child, Nicholas, who claimed his first name was Gabriel.
And a legal arrangement designed to turn those children into instruments of inheritance.
He looked at the engagement ring still resting in his jacket pocket.
He had carried it throughout the chaos.
A ridiculous reminder of the life he had almost chosen.
Dominic removed the velvet box.
Opened it.
The diamond caught the light.
Then he closed it again.
He remembered Sloane telling him that she had signed guardianship documents without understanding their purpose.
He remembered her confession that Jonathan had been taken from her.
He remembered Charles forcing her into a vehicle.
And he realized that Sloane was still missing.
The conspirators had taken children from mothers.
But they had also taken control of the mothers themselves.
He called Adrian.
"Find Sloane."
"We're still tracking Charles's movements."
"Check every property connected to the Barrett family."
"Understood."
"And Adrian?"
"Yes?"
"Tomorrow's ceremony is canceled."
Adrian hesitated.
"Richard may not accept that."
Dominic looked toward the glass ceiling.
"Richard no longer gets to decide what happens to these children."
At 3:46 a.m., the conservatory's private elevator opened.
Dominic turned.
He expected another investigator.
Instead, Charles Barrett stepped into the hall.
He wore a dark suit.
His face was pale.
And his right hand was wrapped in a bloodstained bandage.
Dominic went still.
"Charles."
The older man looked exhausted.
"Where's Richard?"
"Not here."
Charles glanced toward the east wing.
"Where's Nicholas?"
"Safe."
Charles closed his eyes.
"Thank God."
Dominic stared.
"You knew he was here."
"Yes."
"You created his identity."
Charles didn't answer.
Dominic stepped closer.
"Where is Sloane?"
Charles looked away.
"She's gone."
Dominic felt cold.
"What does that mean?"
"She escaped."
"From whom?"
Charles hesitated.
"Richard."
Dominic studied his face.
"You helped abduct her."
"I was trying to keep her alive."
"That's what every one of you says."
Charles looked toward the staircase.
"Dominic, you don't understand what happens tomorrow."
"Then explain."
The older man's expression became grim.
"The trust doesn't simply transfer money."
Dominic frowned.
"What else?"
"Control of the foundation."
"Bellwether?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"Every property. Every subsidiary. Every sealed record."
Dominic felt a chill.
"If Nicholas is recognized as beneficiary, who controls the trust until he's an adult?"
Charles looked down.
"His legal guardian."
"Richard."
Charles nodded.
Dominic stared.
That was the real prize.
Not the child.
Not even the money alone.
Control.
Richard intended to use Nicholas as the designated beneficiary so he could govern the entire network of holdings for years.
"And if Nicholas's identity is challenged?" Dominic asked.
Charles hesitated.
"The transfer may be suspended."
"Then it will be."
Charles looked at him sharply.
"You don't understand."
"Stop saying that."
Dominic stepped closer.
"Tell me what I'm missing."
Charles's voice lowered.
"Richard has a backup."
Dominic felt cold.
"What backup?"
"Another child."
Silence.
Dominic stared.
"Who?"
Charles looked toward the east wing.
Then whispered:
"The boy Elena is raising as Matteo."
Dominic's fists tightened.
"No."
"Richard prepared both identities. If Nicholas couldn't be used, Matteo would be presented."
"Matteo's identity is disputed."
"Richard intended to rely on the documents, not the truth."
Dominic stared.
The attempted abduction.
The threats.
The forged medical records.
The demand that he choose which child would be returned.
Everything had been designed to secure access to a child whose legal identity could be used to control the trust.
He slowly stepped backward.
"What about Gabriel?"
Charles's expression changed.
"Which Gabriel?"
Dominic stopped breathing.
The older man looked at him.
And for the first time, there was something resembling remorse in his eyes.
"That's what Richard has been counting on, Dominic."
"What?"
"That by the time you found the children, you wouldn't know which one was which."
At 4:21 a.m., Nicholas's seventh birthday was less than twenty hours away.
Dominic sat beside the boy's bed as he slept.
The child had curled around his stuffed bear.
His dark hair fell across his forehead.
The resemblance to Dominic's childhood photographs was extraordinary.
But Dominic knew now that resemblance alone couldn't establish parentage.
He thought of Luca.
Leo.
Nico.
Matteo.
Daniel.
The boy called Gabriel.
And Nicholas.
Seven children caught inside a conspiracy built around five newborns and another child whose origins remained uncertain.
How many were biologically related?
How many had been transferred?
How many mothers were still searching?
He didn't know.
But one thing had become clear.
The truth couldn't be found in documents written by the people who designed the deception.
It would require independent evidence.
And it would require keeping the children safe long enough to obtain it.
His phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Sloane Barrett stood beside a dark-haired boy in a small room.
Both looked frightened.
Dominic enlarged the image.
The child appeared approximately six years old.
He wore a white shirt and gray trousers.
And beneath his left ear was a familiar birthmark.
The boy from the Bellwether photographs.
The child believed to be the original Baby D.
The one Dominic had been told was moved again.
Sloane held a handwritten sign.
I found him.
Dominic's pulse hammered.
Another message arrived.
Richard knows.
Then another.
He says if the original Baby D is identified before tomorrow's verification, every trust document becomes useless.
Dominic stood abruptly.
He typed:
Where are you?
No answer.
He called.
The connection failed.
Then a video arrived.
Dominic opened it.
Sloane sat beside the boy.
Her hands trembled.
"Dominic, I don't have much time."
She glanced toward a locked door.
"I found the child whose records were originally assigned to Baby D. I don't know his biological parentage, but the hospital records connect him to Elena's delivery."
The boy looked directly into the camera.
Sloane continued.
"Richard is coming. I've sent the location to Adrian."
A loud sound interrupted her.
Footsteps.
Someone shouting.
Sloane turned.
The boy grabbed her hand.
Then a man's voice came from behind the camera.
"Step away from him."
Richard.
Sloane looked frightened.
"Please. He's just a child."
Richard's voice hardened.
"That child belongs to the trust."
The boy began crying.
Sloane pulled him close.
"Nobody owns him."
A door slammed.
The camera fell.
For several seconds, the video showed only the floor.
Then Richard's voice spoke again.
Calm.
Cold.
"Dominic thinks he found the fifth son."
A pause.
"But he still hasn't figured out what happened to the fourth."
The boy screamed.
The video ended.
Dominic stood frozen.
Then another message appeared.
A single sentence.
The original Baby D is the only child who can prove why Gabriel was never supposed to be the heir.
Dominic stared at the screen.
Outside the conservatory, the sky was beginning to lighten.
Morning was coming.
October 14.
The birthday that would determine control of the Moretti empire.
And somewhere, Sloane was trapped with a child whose identity could collapse forty years of lies.
Dominic called Adrian.
"Find Sloane's location."
Adrian answered immediately.
"I just received it."
"Where?"
A pause.
Then Adrian said something that made Dominic's blood turn cold.
"Dominic, she's inside the old Moretti family hospital."
Dominic froze.
"The one in Beacon Hill?"
"Yes."
"The building where Elena and I first met?"
"Yes."
Dominic felt the world narrow.
Six years earlier, Elena had been hired to restore that property.
She had argued with him about a nineteenth-century wall.
She had insisted that removing it would destroy part of the building's original structure.
And Dominic had ordered the renovation stopped because he wanted to make her happy.
Now he understood why his father had been so furious about that decision.
Because behind that wall, someone might have concealed the original records of Project Legacy.
And Sloane had just found the boy who could prove it.
A final message arrived from Adrian.
Dominic, I found the original construction plans.
He attached a photograph of the building's basement.
Dominic enlarged it.
Behind the wall Elena had refused to demolish was a sealed room.
Its official designation was:
MATERNAL ARCHIVE — ORIGINAL IDENTITY STORAGE
Dominic stopped breathing.
The records hadn't all been moved to Bellwether.
Some had remained hidden inside the property where he first fell in love with Elena.
And beneath the room's designation was a handwritten notation from Vittorio Moretti.
DO NOT OPEN UNTIL THE FIFTH CHILD IS IDENTIFIED.
Dominic stared at the words.
For the first time, he understood that his father hadn't merely hidden evidence.
He had built the entire secret around the moment Dominic would discover his sons.