The penthouse became chaos.
Gunfire echoed downstairs while Alessandro’s men scrambled into position.
Emma could barely process what she had just learned.
Her adoptive father.
The gentle Boston lawyer who tucked her into bed.
Who attended every school recital.
Who taught her how to ride a bicycle.
Worked for the man who murdered children.
“No,” Emma whispered repeatedly.
Val grabbed her shoulders.
“Emma, listen to me. Your father may not have known everything.”
But Alessandro’s expression said otherwise.
“There’s more,” he admitted.
Emma looked at him with tears streaming down her face.
Alessandro hesitated only a moment.
“Your adoption records were fake.”
The world stopped.
“What?”
“You weren’t taken out of Saint Catherine’s to save you,” Alessandro said quietly.
“You were removed because Vittorio ordered it.”
Emma stared blankly.
“Why would he do that?”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened painfully.
“Because you’re his daughter.”
The silence afterward felt inhuman.
Emma physically staggered backward.
“Your biological mother had an affair with Vittorio years ago. When she died, he hid you in Saint Catherine’s to avoid scandal.”
“But after Val found the trafficking records, he panicked. He pulled you out before the fire.”
Emma’s body shook violently.
Every memory of her childhood suddenly felt poisoned.
Her entire life had been manufactured by a monster.
Downstairs, more gunshots thundered through the building.
Then another voice echoed from the entrance.
“Alessandro!”
The room froze.
An older man slowly stepped inside surrounded by armed guards.
Vittorio Moretti.
Even at seventy, he radiated terrifying authority.
His silver hair was immaculate.
His tailored coat spotless despite the rain outside.
His cold eyes settled directly on Emma.
For one horrifying moment, she saw herself in him.
Same eyes.
Same jawline.
Vittorio smiled faintly.
“There you are.”
Emma felt sick.
Val raised her weapon immediately, but Vittorio’s guards aimed at all of them.
Alessandro stepped protectively in front of Emma.
“You’re not touching her.”
Vittorio looked almost amused.
“You always were sentimental.”
Then he revealed the final truth.
“I never wanted the orphanage burned,” Vittorio said calmly.
“Father Benedict acted without permission. By the time I discovered what happened, it was too late.”
Emma stared at him in horror.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No,” Vittorio replied softly.
“But this part is true.”
He looked directly at Alessandro.
“Sofia was my daughter too.”
The confession shattered Alessandro completely.
Vittorio continued calmly, as though discussing weather instead of ruined lives.
“Different mothers. Same blood.”
Emma realized the horrifying truth before anyone spoke it aloud.
She looked at Alessandro.
Then at Vittorio.
Then back again.
Alessandro already knew.
That was why he looked destroyed from the moment he saw her scar.
Not because he recognized Valentina.
Because somewhere deep inside, he recognized family.
Emma’s knees nearly gave out.
The dangerous stranger who seized her wrist in Rosso…
The man she had slowly fallen in love with…
Was her brother.
And judging by the tears suddenly filling Alessandro’s eyes—
He had known almost from the beginning.
