Layla gasps, her grip on my hand tightening.

The doctor keeps talking, but I barely hear him.

Layla’s sobbing now, her body shaking.

Then Bella steps forward.

"Doctor, there is one person we haven’t tested yet."

The room goes silent.

The doctor frowns. “Who?”

Bella doesn’t hesitate. "Layla’s father. Silvano Salvatore."

And just like that, our tension, our pain, our unresolved emotions, don’t even matter anymore.

Because now, we have a bigger problem.

24

LAYLA

Silvano Salvatore.

The name hits me like a freight train, knocking the breath from my lungs. It’s as if the world has suddenly tilted, shifting everything I thought I knew about myself.

I stare at my mother, my mind scrambling to make sense of her words. The weight of this revelation crushes me, pressing down on my chest, stealing the air from my lungs.

She’s always known.

The father I spent my entire life wondering about, the man whose face I could never place in my memories, was Silvano Salvatore, the man whose name is whispered with contempt, whose legacy is one of disgrace and ruin.

And she waited until now to tell me.

I should be furious. I should be screaming at her, demanding answers. But instead, all I feel is a sharp, bitter ache in my chest.

The doctor clears his throat, oblivious to the storm raging inside me.

“This is good news. There is a high likelihood that one of the grandparents could be a match. I would advise you to get him tested as soon as possible.”

He excuses himself, leaving me standing there in stunned silence.

Around me, the air feels heavy.

Valentino is stiff beside me, his expression tense, his jaw set like stone.

My mother keeps her eyes trained on the floor, avoiding my gaze entirely.

Silvano Salvatore.

A drunken wreck of a man, a cautionary tale in the business world, a name spoken in hushed tones, riddled with failure and regret.

And he is my father.

I force myself to swallow, though the nausea swirls in my stomach, threatening to pull me under.

How am I supposed to confront him?