Five Years Later, I hid his Heir

CHAPTER FOUR- SUGAR AND SALT

An eerie silence burdened down the Vitale penthouse, while Milan shone through rain-polished windows the following morning, sparkling with glass and gold. In the breakfast room, time passed slowly while the city below hummed with the daily grind of rattling trams, honking horns, and coffee machines churning in sidewalk cafés.

Elena was gasping for air on the marble island, surrounded by the glistening luxury and the ghosts of all she had lost. On the other side of her, Dante Vitale stood calmly menacing, his black cashmere pullover sleeves pushed up to his elbows. With his forearms flexed, he sloppily filled a crystal tumbler with orange juice.

On a plush leather seat between them, Luca sat cross-legged, his wild hair still mussed from sleep, his pajama top smeared with syrup. He said, "This toast tastes like clouds," after tasting the bread.

Elena tried to smile. "Because the chef used brioche, amore (love)."

“I thought you were the chef.” Dante’s smile flickered. “Mama’s a special kind of chef. She made shrimp burn on purpose.” "It was an accident last night," Elena muttered as she wiped her kimono of crumbs. "She meant to summon fire spirits," Luca murmured conspiratorially to Dante, who arched a brow.

“Ah,” Dante said, sipping espresso. “That explains the screaming.” Elena resisted the urge to chuck her coffee cup at his smirk.

There was barbed wire in the silence between them. The only thing keeping them from tearing into each other with sharper truths and old wounds was Luca's presence. Watching Dante butter Luca's second piece of toast made her stomach turn, as if he hadn't brought her out of hiding with a paternity test and a group of mercenaries.

“Sleep well?” Dante asked the boy.

“Yup.” Luca licked honey from his knuckles. “I dreamed I had a pet eagle that pooped lasers.”

Elena groaned. “Can we not?” Dante chuckled. “A worthy dream for a Vitale.”

Luca turned to him, serious. “Eagles are fierce, but wolves protect the pack.” Dante stilled, his smile faltering. Once more, he reached for his espresso. "Have your fake friends been talking to you again?”

Luca reached for a strawberry and said bluntly, "They're not imaginary."Marco and Sofia are real. I had them before I was even born.

The room froze. Elena inhaled sharply. “Luca, sweetie—”

“They told me last night. In the music box.” Luca glanced up, unbothered. “Said not to be scared. Papa already knows.” Elena looked at Dante. He held the cup's handle firmly until the porcelain shattered. She swallowed. “Luca, amore, why don’t you go bring your toy helicopter down? The one with the lights?”

He smiled as he hurried to his room after getting out of the chair. Dante stood, surrounded by fog and steel, and strode to the floor-to-ceiling windows as his footsteps disappeared.

“Twins,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You never told me.”

“You never asked.”

Dante spun, voice low. “Don’t twist this. You ran. You vanished in the night with my child—our children—and didn’t even leave a grave.”

Elena stood too, fury flaring like it had teeth. “I didn’t even know there were two until last night! Or do you think I would've gone through that pain for fun? Do you know what it’s like to bleed out on cold tile while the nurses whisper behind the door whether I’d lost my mind?!” She was shaking now. “Do you know what it’s like to hold a heartbeat in your body and feel it vanish?”

Dante stepped forward. “No.”

His hand lifted—hesitated—then fell back.

“I only know what it’s like to watch you disappear. To search every inch of the Alps. To threaten monks. To bribe priests. To keep your name off every list so Giancarlo wouldn’t find you first.”

Elena’s breath caught. “You knew where I was.”

“From the moment you crossed into Lugano.” His voice was raw now. “I just… didn’t know what I’d do when I saw you again.” They stood there, cracked wide open in the morning light.

“Why now?” she asked. “Because the Vatican Archives were breached last week.” That pulled her back to reality.

She frowned. “You think Giancarlo’s looking for them?” “I think he’s looking for whatever came with them,” Dante said, crossing to the island. “You saw Luca last night. He touched that sonogram like it was alive. He… spoke to them.”

Elena’s skin prickled. “And he said their names.” “Sofia and Marco,” she whispered. Dante nodded. “We didn’t name them. He did.”

FLASHBACK – The Honeymoon, Rome

Apart from a stack of discarded love notes on napkins and two espresso cups, the courtyard behind the Hotel Eden was deserted. Elena wore only a smile and one of Dante's dress shirts. He read her most recent note out loud as her bare feet were on his lap.

"I promise to break your jaw with my espresso spoon if you tell me you love me again.” Dante grinned. “So poetic.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a threat and a haiku.”

“You love me.”

She did not refute it. Rather, she bent forward and gave him a slow kiss, her fingers entwined with his dark curls. When they parted ways, she said, "This feels like something borrowed from another life.”

Her hair was tucked behind her ear by him. “Then we’ll build a life that belongs to us.” “Even if it breaks us?” “Especially then.”

PRESENT

Luca returned, dragging his toy helicopter and a juice-stained sketchbook. “Can we go to the park today?” Elena crouched down. “Maybe later, Piccolino. Mama and Papa have to talk about… passports.”

Dante glanced at her. “And Berlin.”

Elena straightened. “What’s in Berlin?”

“A biotech lab. Privately funded. Shut down three weeks ago.”

“And?”

“They were experimenting with prenatal gene editing,” he said grimly. “Records show a patient matching your blood type was enrolled under the alias ‘Eva Rossi.’ Paid in cash. No known father listed.”

Elena’s blood ran cold.

“They altered my children?”

“Possibly. The Vatican has been laundering money through private trials. Russo was involved.”

She clutched the chair's back. “We need access.”

“You’ll get it,” Dante said. “You’re coming with me to Berlin.”

Her head snapped up. “Like hell I am.”

“You want answers? You want justice?” His eyes darkened. “Then pack your knives, Elena. We leave at dusk.”

Luca blinked. “Are we going on a family trip?”

Elena looked at her son.

Then, at the man she once loved, the man who once kissed her under Roman stars and now threw ultimatums like daggers.

She took a breath.

“Yes,” she said. “But this time, we’re packing holy water.”