16. A Truth Unveiled
A Truth Unveiled
Damian
I stare at the envelope in my hands, the weight of it pressing heavier than it should. It’s thin, just a single sheet of paper inside, yet it holds the answer to a question I didn’t realize I needed answered until now.
The DNA test. The proof. The confirmation of something I already suspected but didn’t want to believe.
I inhale slowly, steadying myself before I slide my thumb under the seal and tear it open. The paper unfolds easily, the clinical formatting and sterile black text doing nothing to soften the blow of what it says.
My eyes skim the results, but I already know. The percentage staring back at me leaves no room for doubt.
Nichole Beretti is Antonio Beretti’s biological daughter.
I set the paper down, exhaling through my nose as I press my fingertips against my temple. The truth solidifies like ice in my veins. Nichole—the woman I’ve been relentlessly searching for, drawn to in ways I still don’t fully understand—belongs to the very family I’ve sworn to destroy.
My stomach tightens.
This changes nothing.
And yet, it changes everything.
I rake a hand through my hair, standing abruptly from my desk and pacing toward the window.
The city sprawls beneath me, its neon lights flickering against the darkened sky.
I know this war. I’ve lived and breathed it for years.
I know the rules, the expectations, the cost of losing.
But this? This complicates things in ways I didn’t anticipate.
A daughter.
Not a distant relative. Not some illegitimate child Antonio kept in the shadows.
His daughter. His blood.
I clench my jaw, shoving the thoughts aside before they can take root. I don’t have the luxury of dwelling on this. The only thing that matters now is what I do with the information.
I turn away from the window, already reaching for my phone. “Enzo.”
His response is immediate. “Boss?”
“I have the confirmation.” My voice is steady, controlled. “It’s her.”
A pause. Then a slow, exhaled breath. “Shit.”
“Exactly.”
“What’s the move?”
I don’t answer right away. My mind is already shifting gears, calculating the angles, the possibilities, the risks. I need more information. Nichole might have Beretti blood running through her veins, but that doesn’t mean she’s loyal to them.
I need to know where she stands—what she wants, what she’s willing to do.
And there’s only one person who can tell me that.
I tighten my grip on my phone. “I’ll handle it.”
I hang up without another word.
I already know my next step.
I need to see her.
And there’s only one place where I can do that without interference.
I move toward my bed, my body tense but my mind resolute. Within minutes, exhaustion pulls me under, and the world shifts.
The dream mansion awaits.
Nichole stands at the top of the grand staircase, dressed in something soft, something delicate that contrasts with the sharpness in her gaze. Her ocean-blue eyes lock onto mine immediately, her expression shifting the moment she registers my mood.
“Damian.” Her voice is smooth, careful. “What happened?”
I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders to push out the tension from the waking world. I knew she would notice. She always does. But I’m not here to argue, and I sure as hell don’t want her thinking this has anything to do with her.
I take my time crossing the foyer, my steps steady against the marble floors. The glow of the chandelier casts long shadows around us, but I only see her. She doesn’t move, just watches me with quiet patience, waiting.
Finally, I stop at the base of the stairs and meet her gaze. “I got the results.”
Something flickers behind her eyes, something unreadable. She descends the stairs slowly, her bare feet soundless against the polished steps. “And?”
I hold her gaze. “It’s her.”
Nichole’s breath catches, her fingers tightening slightly at her sides. “So she’s really his daughter.”
I nod once. “Yeah.”
She stops in front of me, searching my expression, as if trying to piece together the storm she senses beneath my calm exterior. “And how do you feel about that?”
I drag a hand through my hair. “It doesn’t change anything.” The words are automatic, instinctive. “She’s still mine.”
Her lips part slightly, and for a second, I think she’s going to challenge me on that. But she doesn’t. Instead, she studies me, her gaze dipping just enough to take in the tension in my stance. Then, with deliberate ease, she reaches for my hands.
Her fingers slip into mine, warm and grounding. “Then stop looking like you just lost a war.”
A short breath escapes me—something close to a laugh, something lighter than I expected. I squeeze her hands gently, shaking my head. “You always do this.”
Her brows lift in question. “Do what?”
“Read me too damn well.”
She smiles, but there’s something deeper in her expression now, something knowing. “Because you let me.”
I don’t answer that.
Instead, I use our joined hands to pull her closer. The dream mansion around us fades into the background, the world narrowing to just the feel of her against me, the steady rhythm of our breaths aligning.
She tilts her head slightly. “What’s the plan now?”
I exhale, keeping my voice low. “I need to know where she stands. If she’s loyal to them.”
Nichole’s gaze darkens slightly, but not with doubt. She knows where I’m going with this.
“She’s not.” Her voice is certain. “At least, not yet. She’s still figuring things out.”
I nod slowly, already expecting that answer. “Then I need to get close to her before they do.”
Her fingers tighten around mine. “You don’t have much time.”
She hesitates, her lips pressing together before she sighs. “Dante’s trying to get in good with her.”
That has my full attention.
Nichole pulls away slightly, folding her arms. “I don’t think she sees it for what it is, but he’s up to something. He’s being charming, patient—playing the perfect younger brother. I can see the game he’s playing, even if she can’t.”
My jaw tightens. Dante doesn’t do anything without a reason. If he’s suddenly taking an interest in Nichole, then it’s not out of the goodness of his heart.
“He invited her out,” she adds.
I narrow my eyes. “Where?”
She shakes her head. “She doesn’t know yet. He just said to be ready later tonight.”
I inhale sharply, already forming a plan. “Then I need someone tailing them the second they leave the estate.”
Nichole nods in approval. “You’ll need to be careful, Damian. If he’s taking her somewhere, it’s for a reason. He’s testing her, seeing how much of an influence he has.”
My thoughts churn. “Then I need to make sure he doesn’t get the chance to turn her against me.”
Silence lingers between us before Nichole’s expression softens slightly. “You’ll figure it out.”
I meet her gaze, my tension easing just a fraction.
“Come with me,” she says, stepping back.
I follow her without question, watching as she moves toward the dream room.
The large wooden door stands tall before us, and the second she pushes it open, the world around us shifts.
This time, it’s not a battlefield. Not a dark alley or a scene of violence.
Instead, we step into a warmly lit restaurant, the scent of wine and freshly baked bread filling the air. The sound of soft music drifts through the space, intimate and inviting.
I glance at her, lifting a brow. “This is new.”
She smiles, her eyes glinting mischievously. “You need to start learning what she likes.”
Understanding clicks immediately. “Her favorite restaurant?”
Nichole nods, stepping past me and sinking into one of the chairs at a small corner table. “She’s been coming here since she was a teenager. Knows the menu inside and out. If you want to get closer to her, knowing these details will help.”
I smirk, sliding into the chair across from her. “So, what’s her favorite meal?”
Nichole rests her chin in her palm, watching me with amusement. “I could tell you… or you could figure it out yourself.”
I lean back, letting the energy between us shift into something lighter. “You enjoy making me work for it.”
She grins. “Absolutely.”
A waitress appears beside us, waiting for our order. I glance at Nichole. “What would she choose?”
Nichole taps a manicured nail against the table, pretending to think before smirking. “Why don’t you try ordering for her and see if you get it right?”
I huff a laugh but play along. I scan the menu, taking my best guess, and when the food arrives, Nichole’s approving nod tells me I made the right choice.
As we eat, I let myself take in every detail. The way she swirls her wine. The dish she instinctively reaches for first. The way her lips curve into a soft smile at the taste of something familiar.
This isn’t just a meal. It’s another step closer to understanding her.
And I’m going to use every single detail to my advantage.
The afternoon sun filters through my office window, casting sharp lines across the dark wood of my desk. I sit back in my chair, fingers steepled beneath my chin as I process everything Nichole told me.
Dante is making his move.
I figured he would try something eventually, but I didn’t expect it to be this soon. He’s playing the long game—gaining her trust, weaving himself into her life just enough to make her rely on him. That’s what this is. Not some warm, welcoming act of a brother getting to know his long-lost sister.
He’s testing her.
I exhale slowly, reaching for my phone. “Enzo.”
A beat of silence, then a rough, “Yeah, boss?”
“I need a tail on Nichole and Dante tonight.”
Another pause, then a low whistle. “So he’s finally making a move?”
“Yeah.” I lean forward, resting my elbow on the desk. “She doesn’t know where he’s taking her. They’re leaving the estate later tonight. I want eyes on them the second they step out.”
“Understood.”
I rub my jaw, my grip tightening on the phone. “No one interferes unless necessary. If it’s just some dinner or harmless outing, you sit back and watch. But if anything even remotely looks like a setup—”
“We move,” Enzo finishes.
I nod. “Exactly.”
There’s a shuffling on the other end, the sound of keys jingling. “I’ll get the team in position. You want updates?”
“Only if something changes. Otherwise, I want to know as soon as they start moving. I will be close behind.”
“You got it.”
I end the call and set the phone down, my gaze drifting toward the city skyline outside the window.
Dante’s testing her.
I’ll be testing him right back.
I push away from the desk and stand, stretching out the tension from sitting too long. Tonight isn’t just about keeping an eye on Nichole. It’s about control. About making sure she doesn’t slip further into the Beretti grip before I have the chance to pull her out of it.
If Dante thinks he’s going to manipulate her, he’s about to learn exactly what happens when he underestimates me.