Chapter 8 - The Weight of Gold
By 8:00 AM, the rain had finally stopped, leaving the city washed in pale, winter sunlight.
The fifth floor of St. Sebastian’s was swarming with federal agents, state prosecutors, and forensic teams. Dr. Sterling and Marcus Valenti had been led out in handcuffs in front of an army of reporters who had gathered like vultures outside the hospital gates.
Back at the Varric estate, the heavy iron gates closed behind Matteo’s convoy, locking out the noise, the madness, and the flashing cameras of the world.
Inside the grand foyer, the silence was entirely different now. It was no longer the heavy, suffocating silence of dread. It was the peaceful calm of a fortress that had withstood a siege.
Liana stood in the center of the foyer, looking up at the curved gold railings and crystal chandeliers.
Just nine hours ago, she had dropped a stack of white linens on this very floor, terrified that her grief had made her lose her mind. She had been wearing a cheap red cotton uniform, her bank account overdrawn, her heart shattered into dust.
Now, she stood wrapped in Matteo’s cashmere coat. Nico was sitting on a plush wool blanket spread out on the Persian rug in the adjoining morning room, happily stacking oversized wooden blocks with Dr. Gabriel Santos watching over him.
The infant had eaten an entire bottle of organic nutrient formula without spitting up. The tremors in his tiny hands had stopped completely. For the first time in nine months, Nico was smiling. A wide, toothless grin that made his hazel eyes crinkle exactly like Matteo’s.
Footsteps echoed softly on the marble.
Matteo walked into the morning room. He had showered, shaved, and changed into a clean dark-charcoal dress shirt and trousers. The exhausted, haunted look in his eyes had vanished, replaced by an intense, clear focus.
In his hand, he carried a heavy leather folder.
Liana turned to him. Her heart raced, though she wasn't sure why. Everything had changed so fast that her mind was still struggling to catch up to the reality that her nightmare was over.
“The legal paperwork is filed,” Matteo said, stopping a few feet from her. “The state vital statistics registry has officially voided the fraudulent death certificate issued twenty-two days ago. Nico’s birth records have been completely rewritten.”
He opened the folder and held it out to her.
Liana looked down.
*Certificate of Live Birth.*
*Child’s Name: Nicolò Graves Varric.*
*Mother: Liana Graves.*
*Father: Matteo Varric.*
Her breath hitched. A fresh tear spilled over her lashes, but she didn't wipe it away.
“He’s officially yours,” Matteo said softly. “No one can ever touch him. No one can ever question your right to him.”
Liana looked up from the document into Matteo’s dark, fathomless eyes. “And what about you?”
Matteo looked over at the little boy on the rug, who was currently giggling as Gabriel built a tower of blue blocks.
“I thought I was his father for nine months,” Matteo whispered, his voice thick with an emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. “I loved him when I thought he was Elena’s. I loved him when he was screaming in the dark. But you are his mother. If you want to take him... if you want to leave this house, leave this city, and raise him somewhere safe, away from my world... I will set up a trust fund that will ensure neither of you ever wants for anything again. I will buy you any estate, in any country. I will not stop you.”
Liana stared at him, stunned.
The most feared man in the city—the man who controlled shipping ports, real estate empires, and armies of men—was standing in front of her, completely unguarded, offering to let go of the only piece of light he had left.
“You would let him go?” Liana asked softly. “After everything you did today?”
Matteo’s jaw tightened. “I took him from you—not by choice, but my name was the reason he was stolen. I won't hold you prisoner in this house, Liana. You’ve suffered enough because of the Varric name.”
Liana looked at the document in her hands. Then she looked at Nico, who suddenly dropped his wooden block, turned his little head toward them, and let out a bright, bubbling sound.
“Da!” Nico chirped, clapping his tiny hands together.
Matteo froze. His entire body went rigid.
Gabriel Santos chuckled softly from the floor, shaking his head. “Seems the boy has made his first legal declaration, Matteo.”
Liana felt a warm, radiant smile spread across her face—the first genuine smile she had worn in over a year.
She closed the leather folder and set it down on the side table. Then she took a step toward Matteo, closing the distance between them until she was looking directly up into his guarded, powerful face.
“I spent nine months mourning a boy who was alive,” Liana said, her voice rich with unwavering certainty. “And he spent nine months with a father who stayed up all night holding him when no one else would. You think I’m going to take him away from the only man who fought for him as hard as I did?”
Matteo’s eyes searched hers, an intense, breathless hope flickering in his chest. “Liana...”
“He has your eyes, Matteo,” she whispered, reaching out and gently touching the sleeve of his dark shirt. “And whether Marcus Valenti liked it or not... he has your blood. We are not leaving.”
For the first time since she had walked into the Varric estate, the iron fortress around Matteo’s heart crumbled completely. He raised his hand, his large, warm fingers gently cupping her cheek, wiping away the solitary tear that rested there.
May you like
“Then you stay,” Matteo swore, his voice a solemn vow. “Not as a maid. Not as a guest. As the mistress of this house. And as my family.”
***
