One night, One secret

DANTE’S POV Five years ago I’ve had hundreds of women in this bed. Hell, maybe more. But only one ever left without a word or a trace. And she did it while I was still asleep. The rain tapped against the windows like it was in on her secret, like it knew she would disappear before dawn. Her perfume still clung to the sheets and the heat of her body was burned into the mattress like a ghost I couldn’t exorcise. I sat up, ran a hand through my hair, and stared at the empty side of the bed. No note. No name. Just a half-drunk glass of wine and the faint imprint of her lipstick on the rim. She was different. Most women either clung to me or cried about how they wanted me. But she didn’t do either. She looked me in the eye, unafraid, and kissed me like she owned the moment. Like she knew exactly what this was and didn’t expect more. And then she vanished into thin air, like she was a ghost. … Present day … "You need to see this," Gio says, dropping a folder on my desk like it was a bomb. I glance up from the glass of wine in my hand. “If it’s about the Russians again, I’m not in the mood.” “It’s not.” I raised an eyebrow and took the folder. He didn't sit. That’s my first clue something’s off. I flip it open and find two photographs inside. One is of a woman. It was blurry, distant, but something about the curve of her jaw makes my pulse stutter. The other is of a boy. Maybe four,five years tops. Dark hair. Gray eyes. My gray eyes. I set the glass down. “Who is he?” Gio shifts. “His name is Luca. Luca Russo. Lives in Queens with his mother. Quiet life. No red flags. No record.” My throat tightens, and I hate the feeling. Emotions are messy. Weak. But this…this hits differently. “Russo?” I echo. “As in Elena Russo?” “She changed her name after that night. You remember her?” I remember everything. The way she traced the scar on my chest like it was a map. The way her voice dropped when she asked if I ever wanted more. The way she walked out before I could even ask her name. I clenched my jaw. “That is her?” “I think so.” I stare at the photo of the kid. My blood. My f*****g blood. Why didn’t she tell me? Why hide him? And why the hell now?after all these years. Why am I only just finding out? “I want everything on her,” I say. “Where she works. Who she sees. Who knows about the boy. Every breath she takes, I want to know about it.” Gio nods. “Already in motion.” Good. Because if this is true, if this kid really is mine, then everything changes. Every single thing.