Chapter 3 - The Bloodline Ledger
The townhouse on East Seventy-Third Street belonged to Ethan’s mother, Alessandra Romano, though she had not lived there in years. That was why Ethan chose it. “Nobody searches the places people hate,” he said as if that were a normal principle by which to choose a home.
Inside, the house was beautiful and almost empty. No family photographs. No art. No personal objects except an untouched grand piano and a bowl of lemons that looked suspiciously fresh.
Daniel checked every room with Ethan’s security chief, Marco DeLuca. Victoria stood near the window with her arms folded. I remained beside the fireplace, trying to process the fact that my father had been alive for twelve years and apparently had opinions about my unborn child.
“Phones on the table,” Ethan ordered.
Victoria scoffed. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
Daniel placed his phone down. Victoria tossed hers beside it. Ethan added his.
He looked at me.
“I don’t have one.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“I stopped carrying one weeks ago.”
Something like approval flickered in his eyes.
Marco returned. “House is clear.”
Ethan nodded. “Good. Daniel. Tell us everything.”
Daniel leaned against the wall. “Four months ago, Dr. Hale contacted me. We knew each other from a protection case involving a federal witness. She said a pregnant patient’s file had been accessed using a credential belonging to a dead lab technician.”
“Me,” I said.
“Yes.”
“How did she know it was targeted?”
“Because the intruder didn’t download ordinary medical notes. Only genetic data.”
Ethan’s voice went cold. “And Bennett?”
“Two weeks later, I traced a payment made to the technician’s widow. The money came through four shell companies. The final owner was Bellamy Maritime.”
I stared. “My mother’s family company.”
Victoria nodded. “That’s the name my father used when he introduced Thomas.”
Ethan looked at me. “Your father didn’t just fake his death. He built another identity using your mother’s family.”
I shook my head. “Why?”
Daniel continued. “Three years ago, Bellamy Maritime began purchasing distressed shipping companies in New Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland.”
Ethan went still.
“What?” I asked.
He answered reluctantly. “Those ports overlap with routes my organization used.”
“Used?”
He didn’t respond.
Daniel did. “Ethan has been dismantling his criminal operations for eighteen months.”
I turned sharply. “What?”
Victoria’s mouth tightened. “This is what I meant earlier.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone knew except me?”
Ethan stepped closer. “You were gone.”
“I was your wife when you started.”
“You were already planning to leave.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to rewrite history.”
He looked away. A muscle moved in his jaw.
Daniel continued. “Someone has been buying Romano assets as Ethan exits them.”
“My father?”
“Likely.”
Ethan’s eyes sharpened. “He waited for me to weaken the empire, then moved in.”
“Why?”
“Because power hates an empty chair.”
A sharp tightening pulled low across my abdomen. I inhaled.
Ethan noticed immediately. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
“Braxton Hicks.”
He looked genuinely terrified.
“You survived three assassination attempts,” I said, “and false labor scares you?”
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised me.
Victoria looked away. Something complicated crossed her face. For the first time, I remembered she was supposed to be Ethan’s girlfriend.
Or was she?
I studied the way she stood near him. No casual intimacy. No private glance. No jealousy when he looked at me.
Interesting.
“What exactly was my father searching for?” I asked.
Daniel hesitated. “Not paternity.”
My heart stopped. “What?”
“You said paternity markers.”
“I said someone searched for them. But the query was broader.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Broader how?”
“A hereditary match.”
“To what?”
Daniel reached inside his jacket and removed a folded sheet of paper. “I was going to tell Isabella after confirming it.”
“Tell me now.”
He handed it to me. Genetic codes covered the page. At the bottom, one line was highlighted.
MATCH PROBABILITY: 99.72%.
“Match to whom?”
Daniel looked at Ethan. Then at me. “A male infant registered in 1998.”
I frowned. “I was nine.”
Ethan took the paper. “Name?”
“The record was sealed.”
“Unseal it.”
“I tried.”
Ethan gave him a look.
Daniel sighed. “Fine. I partly tried.”
I stepped closer. “Who is he?”
Daniel met my eyes. “The sample belonged to a baby born at Saint Vincent’s Hospital twenty-eight years ago.”
Something about the date made Ethan freeze.
Victoria noticed too. “That’s the year Ethan was born.”
The room went silent.
I laughed once, without humor. “No.”
Daniel said nothing.
I looked at Ethan. His face was pale.
“No,” I repeated.
Alessandra Romano had always treated me with strange suspicion. She had hated my father’s name. During our engagement dinner she once told me some families should never mix blood. At the time, I assumed she meant class.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
“Daniel,” I said. “Tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”
“I’m saying your unborn child’s profile showed a close hereditary link to a male infant born the same year as Ethan.”
“That could mean anything.”
“Yes.”
“Could it mean Ethan?”
“Yes.”
Victoria whispered, “What kind of link?”
Daniel unfolded another page. “The profile looks like someone was checking compatibility between two designated genetic lines.”
Ethan stared at him. “Designated by whom?”
“That’s where it gets strange.”
“Everything is already strange.”
Daniel nodded. “The file codes are R-01 and B-01.”
“Romano and Bennett,” Victoria said.
No one answered.
A cold realization formed.
“Our families were connected before we met.”
Ethan’s expression darkened. “Apparently.”
Victoria suddenly looked sick.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Victoria.”
She reached into her jacket and produced a flash drive. “I stole this from my father’s study yesterday.”
Ethan’s eyes dropped to it. “What’s on it?”
“I don’t know. It’s encrypted.”
“Why steal it?”
“Because he nearly broke my wrist when he caught me looking at his desk.”
She pulled back her sleeve. A dark bruise wrapped around her wrist.
Ethan’s face changed. “Richard did that?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have killed him.”
“Correct.”
“And then we’d still know nothing.”
I said, “She has a point.”
Ethan looked offended that we had agreed.
Victoria handed him the drive. “I heard my father talking about Isabella.”
My stomach tightened. “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘The Bennett girl cannot give birth in Romano territory.’”
The room chilled.
“Why?” Ethan asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Did he mention the baby?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?” I demanded.
Victoria swallowed. “He said the baby changes the line of succession.”
I stared. “What succession?”
She shook her head. “I wish I knew.”
Daniel looked at the flash drive. “I have a secure system that may open it.”
Ethan said, “Not yours.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust you.”
“Healthy.”
“Marco can crack it.”
Victoria immediately said, “No.”
Ethan turned. “Why?”
She hesitated. “Marco’s brother works for my father.”
Silence.
Ethan’s expression emptied. I knew that look. Empty Ethan was more dangerous than angry Ethan.
“Which brother?”
“Anthony.”
Ethan walked toward the hall.
Victoria grabbed his arm. “Do not confront Marco.”
He looked at her hand. She released him.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know if Marco knows.”
Ethan stared at her. “You kept this from me?”
“I found out this morning.”
“You’ve had fourteen hours.”
“I spent six of them trying not to die.”
“Join the club,” I said.
Nobody laughed.
Then Daniel’s phone rang from the table. He picked it up, answered, listened, and went pale.
“What?” I asked.
He ended the call. “I called Dr. Hale’s office.”
“And?”
“The office says Dr. Laura Hale died two months ago.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“That’s impossible.”
“I spoke to her last week.”
“I know.”
“No. I saw her. She examined me.”
Daniel pulled up an obituary photograph. Gray-haired woman. Round glasses. Kind face.
“Is this the woman?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then describe who treated you.”
“Dark hair. Early forties. Green eyes. British accent.”
Victoria gasped.
Ethan turned. “You know her?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Victoria whispered, “Dr. Claire Vale.”
Daniel swore.
I looked between them. “Who is she?”
Ethan answered. “A geneticist.”
My hand covered my stomach.
“Why would a geneticist pretend to be an obstetrician?”
Daniel stared at my belly. “To monitor the baby.”
The house suddenly felt colder than the street outside.
Then one of Ethan’s security monitors chimed. A camera feed from the front gate showed a black sedan rolling slowly past the townhouse.
The driver turned his face toward the camera.
Silver hair. Scar beneath the left ear.
My father.
Alive.
May you like
He lifted one hand toward the lens as though waving at me from across twelve years of lies.
Then the screen went black.
