Chapter 5 - Blood Never Lies
The penthouse atop the Beacon Hill Tower was dark and silent when Dominic stepped through the private elevator doors.
Behind him, Marco carried two sleepy boys—Matteo and Luca—while Dominic held Julian against his chest. Julian’s head was tucked into the crook of Dominic’s neck, his tiny warm hand clutching the lapel of Dominic’s ruined cream jacket. The sheer, terrifying vulnerability of the child’s weight in his arms had kept Dominic’s breath shallow for the entire twenty-minute drive.
Elena followed closely, holding Leo by the hand. Her eyes darted continuously across the perimeter of the penthouse—taking in the floor-to-ceiling panoramic glass overlooking the rain-streaked Boston skyline, the private security consoles, and the sheer fortress-like opulence of Dominic’s true sanctuary.
This was not the family estate on the Charles. This was Dominic’s personal domain, purchased with his own funds, guarded by men whose loyalties belonged exclusively to him, not the Moretti matriarch.
“Put them in the master guest suite,” Dominic murmured to Marco. “Have the kitchen staff prepare warm milk and whatever comfort food they have. Then call Dr. Mercer. Tell him to bring a rapid pediatric genetic panel. Tonight.”
Elena stepped in front of Dominic, her eyes widening. “A genetic panel? You still don’t believe me?”
Dominic shifted Julian gently, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. “I believe you, Elena. Every beat of my heart believes you. But when the Barretts and my mother realize what happened tonight, they will bring lawyers. They will bring judges. They will try to claim fraud, extortion, or illegitimacy. I am not taking an expedited DNA test to convince myself. I am doing it to build an unassailable fortress around you and these boys that no court in this country can ever break.”
Elena blinked back fresh tears, the defensive tension in her shoulders suddenly easing. “You’re… you’re going to fight them?”
“I’m going to destroy anyone who tries to touch them,” Dominic replied without a shred of doubt.
Half an hour later, the four boys were tucked beneath down duvets in the expansive guest room. They were exhausted, their small pastel sweaters folded neatly on the armchairs. Julian’s soft, rhythmic breathing filled the room, his small chest rising and falling beside his brothers.
In the private study, Dr. Mercer, a silver-haired physician who had been on the Moretti payroll for twenty years, carefully labeled four buccal swabs and sealed them into forensic-grade envelopes.
“I have the private sequencer at the clinic, Dominic,” Dr. Mercer said quietly, adjusting his glasses. “Given the urgency, I can have preliminary locus matches within six hours. But strictly between us… looking at those boys’ bone structure, you don’t need a sequencer.”
“Run it anyway, Robert,” Dominic said, leaning against the mahogany desk, a glass of untouched amber whiskey sitting beside his elbow. “I want triple-redundancy documentation. Paternity certified, notarized, and registered with the state records office by sunrise.”
“Understood,” Mercer nodded, packing his leather bag and slipping out through the private elevator.
Silence descended upon the penthouse.
Elena stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, looking out over the twinkling amber grid of Boston below. The rain had slowed to a misty drizzle, blurring the lights of the bridges spanning the Charles River.
Dominic walked over, handing her a ceramic mug of hot tea.
She took it with two hands, letting the steam warm her pale face. “It feels like a dream. A terrifying dream.”
“You’re safe here, Elena,” Dominic said, standing beside her. He didn't touch her; he maintained a respectful distance, aware of the six years of trauma separating them. “No one enters this building without my authorization. Marco has four armed men stationed in the lobby and two on the roof.”
“Your mother won't let this go,” Elena said, her voice hollow. “She isn't just a mother, Dominic. She’s an institution. She controls the trusts, she has half the district attorney’s office on speed dial, and now you’ve humiliated the Barretts. Judge Barrett can revoke my custody with a single signed emergency petition if she convinces him I’m an unfit mother.”
Dominic took a slow sip of his whiskey. His eyes were cold, reflecting the city lights like obsidian blades.
“Arthur Barrett can try,” Dominic said softly. “And if he does, I will release the offshore accounting logs of his Cayman shell companies that my father kept in the family vault. Arthur will spend the rest of his life in a federal penitentiary before he ever signs a warrant against you.”
Elena looked at him, startled. “You would burn your family’s connections for this?”
Dominic turned his head to look directly into her eyes. The raw, unfiltered intensity in his gaze made her breath catch.
“Six years ago, I hesitated because I was taught that family loyalty was absolute,” Dominic said, his voice husky with emotion. “I let you walk away because I trusted the woman who raised me. That was the greatest sin of my life, Elena. I won't commit it twice. You and those four boys in that room are my only family now. Everything else is just collateral.”
Elena’s lips trembled. She looked away, staring down into her tea, but the wall she had built around her heart for six long years was visibly crumbling beneath his relentless certainty.
At 4:15 AM, Dominic’s secure laptop chimed.
An encrypted email from Dr. Mercer.
Dominic clicked it open. Elena leaned over his arm, holding her breath.
Four certificates loaded onto the high-resolution monitor. Four distinct DNA profile alignments. At the bottom of each document, highlighted in bold legal green, were the words:
*Probability of Paternity: 99.999%. Dominic Moretti is confirmed as the biological father of Leo Rossi-Moretti, Julian Rossi-Moretti, Matteo Rossi-Moretti, and Luca Rossi-Moretti.*
Dominic stared at the screen for a long, quiet moment. A single, heavy tear slipped from his eye, unnoticed in the dark study.
May you like
Blood did not lie.
***
