The attorney unfolded the sheet of paper. He adjusted his reading glasses, and then his gaze skimmed over the page. “There’s a bunch of legalese and scientific lingo that I’m sure none of you are interested in at this moment.” He was quiet for a few seconds “Ah, here we go. The lab has confirmed that two of you are indeed the biological children of Aldo and Carla Bartolini—”
“Who is the unlucky soul?” Bianca pressed.
“Yes,” Enzo interjected. “Let’s get this over with.”
Gia remained quiet. After all, this wasn’t her crisis. Not really. She was an observer.
The attorney folded the paper, took off his reading glasses as his gaze met with each of them. There was regret and sympathy emanating from his eyes. Then he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to say that the Bartolini sibling who is not Aldo’s biological child is... Gia.”
She gasped.
This can’t be right. There has to be a mistake.
The attorney looked at her with pity. “I’m sorry, Gia.”
No. No. No. This isn’t happening.
And yet it was happening. To her.
She sprang out of her chair, which toppled over. She backed up, stumbling into it.
I am the outsider.
It was at that precise moment that her world came to a screeching halt. She wasn’t even sure she was still breathing because the attorney’s words sucked the oxygen from the room.
I’m not a Bartolini. I’m not a Bartolini.
The words swam around in her mind at a dizzying pace. Her stomach churned. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. Was it possible this was just some horrific nightmare? Her gaze moved around the room. They all looked at her with pity in their eyes.
It’s true. She inhaled a sob. I’m the outsider.
Each admittance was like a dagger to her heart. The scene before her blurred. She blinked repeatedly. How did this happen? Why her? Not that she’d wanted it to be her brother or sister either. Why did it have to happen to any of them?
The next thing she knew, Enzo and Bianca were beside her. Bianca enveloped her unmoving body in a big hug. She wasn’t sure what Enzo did because she just couldn’t process anything. She vaguely heard the deep timbre of his voice. It was the words he spoke that eluded her.
I am not a Bartolini.
Her world had gotten smaller and smaller until she was caught up in her own thoughts—disturbing thoughts. Painful thoughts. Anguished thoughts.
I am not a Bartolini.
CHAPTER TWO
SHE WASN’T A BARTOLINI.
Not a true Bartolini.
Not like her brother and sister.
Each time she thought of it, Gia felt betrayed. The knife of pain would sink further into her heart. How could they have kept this from her all of this time?
And who was she if she wasn’t a Bartolini?
She recalled what her sister had said once about possibly not being a Bartolini, the fear she’d expressed that her father—if not Aldo—might be a criminal. Anything was possible at this point. And that made the agony that much worse.
Though her siblings tried to comfort her, she closed them out. They didn’t understand this level of uncertainty—about herself, about the past and about the future.
Betrayed by the two people she thought she could trust most in the world—her parents—Gia threw up barriers around her shattered heart. After all, who was going to care about her—to love her—when she had absolutely no idea about her true identity, her heritage?