Chapter 3: The Baby With Two Names
The photograph on the security screen stayed there for several seconds.
Long enough for my mind to stop working.
Long enough for the entire world to become strangely quiet.
Mia Duca.
The name written on the hospital bracelet.
Not Mia Rossi.
Not my daughter’s name.
A different name.
A name that belonged to the man standing across from me.
Alessandro.
My arms tightened around my baby.
“No,” I whispered.
I didn’t realize I had said it out loud until Alessandro looked at me.
His eyes were still fixed on the screen.
But his attention was split.
Between the woman outside.
The photograph.
And the child in my arms.
“Open the door,” Isabella said through the speaker.
Alessandro didn’t move.
For the first time since I met him, he looked completely uncertain.
The man who negotiated billion-dollar deals.
The man who could intimidate entire rooms without raising his voice.
He looked like someone who had just discovered the past he buried had been waiting for him.
“Mr. Duca…”
My voice sounded distant.
He turned.
“What?””
I swallowed.
“Is that my daughter’s name?””
The question hurt more than I expected.
Because I already knew the answer.
His silence told me.
A father recognized his child.
Even after eight years.
Even after believing she was gone.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
One word.
But it changed everything.
My knees felt weak.
“No.””
Alessandro looked at me.
“Elena—”
“No.””
I shook my head.
“Mia is my daughter.””
“I know.””
“Then why is her name on that bracelet?””
He had no answer.
And that scared me more than anything.
Because Alessandro Duca always had an answer.
Even when he was wrong.
Even when he was cruel.
He always knew what to say.
But now?
Nothing.
The elevator bell rang again.
Isabella was still waiting.
Waiting for the door to open.
Waiting for him.
Waiting for the daughter I had raised.
Alessandro walked toward the entrance.
My entire body reacted before my mind could.
I stepped in front of him.
He stopped.
His eyebrows lowered.
“Move.””
The word was quiet.
But firm.
“No.””
A flash of surprise crossed his face.
“You’re refusing me?””
“I’m protecting my daughter.””
The silence between us changed.
Because that was the first time I had ever said those words to him.
Not as an employee.
Not as someone afraid of losing a job.
As a mother.
Alessandro studied me.
Then he glanced at Mia.
His expression softened.
Only slightly.
“I’m not taking her from you.””
“Then what are you doing?””
“I’m finding out the truth.””
I laughed once.
A small, broken sound.
“The truth?””
“Yes.””
“The truth is that you found out a stranger says she’s your daughter, and now everything I’ve built for eight months is suddenly uncertain.””
His jaw tightened.
“That’s not fair.””
“Fair?””
I stared at him.
“You think anything about this has been fair?””
My voice shook.
“I carried her. I gave birth to her. I stayed awake every night when she was sick.
I learned every cry she makes. I know exactly how she likes to be held.””
I looked down at Mia.
“She knows my heartbeat.””
Alessandro’s face changed.
“I know.””
“No, you don’t.””
The words came out before I could stop them.
“You don’t know what it’s like to spend every day terrified someone will take your child away.””
His eyes darkened.
And suddenly I regretted saying it.
Because I remembered.
He had lost a child too.
Or thought he had.
A softer silence followed.
Then Alessandro pressed the intercom button.
“Isabella.””
The woman outside answered immediately.
“You finally believe me.””
“No.””
His voice became cold again.
“I believe you’re holding a photograph.””
A pause.
Then a bitter laugh.
“You haven’t changed.””
“I asked you a question.””
“I came here because you deserve to know what happened.””
“You had eight years.””
“I know.””
The way she said it made the room colder.
Not defensive.
Not angry.
Guilty.
“I made mistakes.””
Alessandro’s fingers curled.
“Mistakes?””
The word carried years of pain.
“You let me believe my daughter was dead.””
Silence.
Then Isabella whispered:
“I thought she was.””
I looked at Alessandro.
Neither of us moved.
“What does that mean?”” he asked.
The elevator doors remained closed.
The camera showed only Isabella’s face.
Her eyes were red.
“She was taken from the hospital.””
My stomach dropped.
“What?””
Alessandro stepped closer to the screen.
“Explain.””
“After she was born, someone changed the records.””
“Who?””
“I don’t know.””
“You expect me to believe that?””
“I don’t expect anything from you anymore.””
Her voice cracked.
“I know what I did. I know I disappeared. I know you hate me.””
Alessandro’s expression didn’t change.
“You left.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
The question came out sharper than before.
Isabella looked down.
And for a moment, I saw something unexpected.
Fear.
Not guilt.
Fear.
“Because someone threatened me.””
The air disappeared from the room.
Alessandro went completely still.
“Who?””
“I don’t know.””
“You’re lying.””
“I’m not.””
“Then give me a name.””
“I can’t.””
“Can’t?””
His voice rose slightly.
“You show up after eight years claiming my daughter is alive, and you still refuse to tell me who took her?””
“I’m trying to protect her.””
The words made my heart stop.
Protect her.
Not take her.
Not claim her.
Protect her.
I looked at Mia.
Then at Alessandro.
And suddenly I wondered if I had been afraid of the wrong person.
“Open the door,” Isabella whispered.
“No.””
Her face fell.
“Alessandro.””
“You don’t get to walk back into my life because you brought a photograph.””
“I brought proof.””
“Proof of what?””
“That someone wanted our daughter erased.””
The camera froze on her expression.
Then she said:
“And they know she’s alive.””
A chill moved through me.
Alessandro immediately looked at the penthouse windows.
The cameras.
The doors.
Every entrance.
His entire body changed.
The billionaire returned.
The protector.
“What did you do?”” he asked.
“I came here.””
“No.””
His voice lowered.
“What did you tell them?””
“I didn’t tell anyone.””
“Isabella.””
“I swear.””
The elevator suddenly made a sound.
Someone was coming up.
Alessandro looked at the security panel.
His face hardened.
“That’s not possible.””
“What?””
He didn’t answer.
He moved quickly toward the entrance.
I stepped backward.
Mia started fussing.
Alessandro looked at her.
Then at me.
“Take her to the bedroom.””
My eyebrows lifted.
“What?””
“Now.””
The command was automatic.
But there was something underneath it.
Fear.
Real fear.
“What’s happening?””
He looked toward the elevator numbers.
The display showed:
*PENTHOUSE LEVEL.*
Someone was arriving.
Someone who shouldn’t have been able to.
“I need you to listen to me carefully.””
His voice was low.
“If anything happens, you take Mia and leave through the private exit.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
Because the answer was already written on his face.
Because he wasn’t worried about his reputation.
Or his money.
Or himself.
He was worried about us.
“Elena.””
“Yes?””
He looked at Mia.
Then at me.
And for the first time, Alessandro Duca said something that sounded almost like a confession.
“Because whoever stole my daughter eight years ago…”
The elevator doors began to open.
“…just found her again.””
The doors slid apart.
A man stepped out.
Not security.
Not an employee.
A stranger.
But Alessandro recognized him immediately.
And the moment he saw him, every bit of color disappeared from his face.
Because the man standing in the penthouse hallway was carrying a folder.
May you like
And written across the front were four words:
*PATERNITY TEST RESULTS ENCLOSED.*
