Chapter 4 - The Bloodline Test
By nine o'clock the following morning, the humble basement flat was completely empty, and my children were running barefoot across the plush Persian rugs of the master penthouse at the Moretti estate. Vincent had refused to let us spend another second in the damp cold. He had mobilized an entire fleet of luxury vans to transport our few personal belongings, while his private staff arrived with racks of designer clothes, organic groceries, and an entire toy store's worth of play sets.
However, the shadow of the syndicate remained stubbornly unyielding.
Don Emilio sat in the corner of the massive penthouse living room, surrounded by three family doctors wearing sterile white coats and carrying black leather medical kits. Beside the old man stood his brother, Marco, along with several high-ranking capos who looked upon the chaotic scene with deep suspicion. The children were completely unbothered by the menacing old men; little Matteo was currently using a multi-million-dollar Ming dynasty vase as a hiding spot for his plastic dinosaurs, while Sofia was happily braiding the tassels on Don Emilio’s expensive cashmere blanket.
""A father knows his own blood, boy, but the family ledger requires scientific certainty,"" Don Emilio barked, scowling down at the little girl who was giggling at his knees. ""The syndicate cannot hand over trillions in real estate, shipping docks, and bank accounts to a chambermaid’s spawn based purely on a resemblance. We take the swabs now. If the markers don't match ninety-nine point nine percent, this girl and her litter will be on a cargo plane out of the country before nightfall.""
""Watch your tongue when you speak of my wife and children, old man,"" Vincent snarled from behind my chair. He placed his heavy hands firmly on my shoulders, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against my neck. ""The results will be processed by my private laboratory, not your compromised council.""
""Both,"" Don Emilio demanded. ""My team and yours. Concurrently.""
I gently reached out and picked up Sofia, pressing a kiss to her soft curls to soothe her as the doctor approached with the sterile cotton swab. One by one, all six children sat patiently, amused by the strange doctor brushing the inside of their cheeks. They had survived long winters, cheap broth, and crowded cots without complaining; a small cotton swab was nothing to them.
Two agonizing hours crawled by. The penthouse was suffocatingly quiet except for the quiet murmur of the television playing cartoons. Vincent refused to leave my side, standing like a dark sentinel, feeding me warm tea and brushing my hair back whenever I began to shake with nervous exhaustion.
The double oak doors swung open. The head geneticist walked in, his face drained of color, his hands visibly shaking as he clutched a thick stack of certified documents bearing the gold embossed seals of both independent laboratories.
Don Emilio gripped his cane, his knuckles popping. ""Speak, Doctor. Do they carry the Moretti marker?""
The doctor swallowed hard, glancing nervously between Vincent and the old Don. ""Sir... not only do all six children share ninety-nine point nine percent direct paternity with Vincent Moretti, but the genetic lineage exhibits an exceptionally rare homozygous ancestral allele that hasn't appeared in the family records since the founding patriarch in 1892. They are not just his children, Don Emilio. They possess the purest genetic line the Moretti dynasty has ever produced.""
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Don Emilio sank back into his wheelchair, his mouth working silently as he looked down at little Sofia, who was still clutching the hem of his cashmere blanket. The hardened old patriarch slowly reached down with an aged, trembling hand and touched the little girl’s cheek.
""Six of them,"" the old man breathed, a sudden, wet shine breaking over his hard eyes. ""Six true heirs to the empire.""
