Chapter 6 - The Boy Who Was MeFor a moment, I forgot how to react.
The room became strangely quiet.
Not peaceful.
Not calm.
Quiet like the world was waiting to see whether I would break.
My grandfather’s words hung in the air.
“He is you.”
I looked at my father.
Then at Bianca.
Then back at Alessandro.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody called him insane.
That was the worst part.
Because everyone looked like they had heard something they had been afraid of hearing.
“No.”
My voice sounded smaller than I wanted.
My grandfather studied me.
“You always were the emotional one.”
I stepped closer.
“Don’t talk like you know me.”
“I created you.”
My stomach twisted.
The police officer stepped between us.
“That’s enough.”
My grandfather ignored him.
“You want answers, don’t you?”
I did.
God help me, I did.
Even if the answers destroyed everything.
“Tell me.”
My father looked at me.
“Raffaele.”
“No.”
I didn’t look away from Alessandro.
“No more secrets.”
My grandfather smiled.
“Good.”
He turned toward the officers.
“You should all leave.”
The officers exchanged looks.
One of them shook his head.
“That isn’t happening.”
My grandfather smiled faintly.
“You think this is about arresting someone?”
Nobody answered.
He looked around the bridal suite.
“This house has been recording every conversation in this room for twenty years.”
A cold feeling moved through me.
“What?”
Bianca whispered:
“He’s telling the truth.”
Everyone looked at her.
She looked exhausted.
“I found the cameras years ago.”
“And you did nothing?”
My voice cut through the room.
She looked down.
“I tried.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You hid things.”
“I was scared.”
“Everyone was scared.”
I pointed at the floor.
“And Evelyn paid the price.”
Evelyn looked away.
That hurt more than anger.
Because she didn’t need to say anything.
Her silence said enough.
My grandfather watched us.
“You still blame each other.”
He sounded almost amused.
“That is why humans are easy to control.”
My father stepped forward.
“Stop pretending this is some lesson.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“You were always disappointing.”
My father laughed bitterly.
“You kidnapped your own grandson.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I saved him.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Explain.”
Alessandro walked slowly toward the window.
“When your mother was pregnant, doctors told us she was carrying twins.”
I already knew that.
But hearing it again felt different.
“Your grandfather,” my father continued, “believed twins were an opportunity.”
I looked at him.
“An opportunity for what?”
My father struggled to answer.
Alessandro answered instead.
“To create a perfect heir.”
The words sounded unreal.
“My brother and I were babies.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought you could decide what we became?”
“I knew what you could become.”
I stared at him.
“You separated us.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“You were separated naturally.”
“What does that mean?”
My father looked sick.
“Raffaele…”
I turned.
“Tell me.”
He closed his eyes.
“The night you were born, there was a fire at the hospital.”
My heart slowed.
“A fire?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t I know about this?”
“Because you were a baby.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
My father looked toward Alessandro.
“Because your grandfather used it.”
Alessandro remained silent.
My father continued.
“He told everyone there was only one surviving child.”
“And the other?”
“He took him.”
My hands shook.
“He took Marco.”
My grandfather corrected me.
“He took you.”
I stared.
“What?”
He walked closer.
“The child raised as Raffaele was not the child chosen for the experiment.”
I felt the room tilt.
“No.”
“The other child was stronger.”
“No.”
“More resilient.”
“No.”
My grandfather’s eyes narrowed.
“You were the sensitive one.”
I looked at my father.
“Is this true?”
He didn’t answer.
That was the answer.
I stepped backward.
“No.”
Evelyn moved toward me.
“Raffaele.”
I barely heard her.
“My whole life…”
My voice broke.
“My whole life was a lie?”
My father looked devastated.
“No.”
“Then what was real?”
He had no answer.
My grandfather spoke.
“Your memories.”
I looked at him.
“Your love.”
He smiled slightly.
“Your pain.”
His expression hardened.
“Those were real.”
I hated him for that.
Because he was right.
A lie built around a real life was still a life.
And I didn’t know what belonged to me anymore.
A sound came from the hallway.
Someone running.
One of the officers turned.
“Stop!”
The door burst open.
A man stood there.
Blood on his shirt.
Breathing heavily.
My first thought was that he was Marco.
But then he spoke.
“Don’t believe anything he says.”
My blood froze.
Because it was my voice.
Not similar.
Not close.
My voice.
Everyone stared.
The man looked at me.
And I looked at him.
Two faces.
One life.
One impossible moment.
Evelyn whispered:
“That’s him.”
Marco.
He looked older than me.
Not by much.
But enough.
His eyes were different.
Harder.
Like someone had taken every gentle thing from him and replaced it with survival.
My father moved.
“Marco.”
The man flinched.
“Don’t call me that.”
My father stopped.
Marco looked at me.
“You’re Raffaele.”
I nodded slowly.
“And you’re…”
He smiled without humor.
“The person everyone lied about.”
Alessandro stepped forward.
“Come here.”
Marco looked at him.
And the hatred in his face was immediate.
“No.”
My grandfather’s expression changed.
“You owe me everything.”
Marco laughed.
“I owe you nothing.”
The room watched as the two men stared at each other.
A creator.
And his creation.
Except the creation hated him.
“I spent my whole life trying to understand why you chose him.”
Marco looked at me.
“Why you got the name.”
I swallowed.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
His voice softened slightly.
“That’s why I don’t hate you.”
I didn’t expect that.
“What?”
He looked away.
“I used to.”
My chest tightened.
“But then I realized something.”
“What?”
“You were a victim too.”
The words hurt.
Because they sounded like forgiveness I didn’t deserve.
Alessandro stepped forward.
“Enough.”
Marco turned.
“No.”
His voice changed.
“You don’t control me anymore.”
My grandfather smiled.
“You think escaping means freedom?”
Marco reached into his jacket.
Everyone reacted.
But he pulled out a small notebook.
Old.
Damaged.
He threw it onto the table.
“This is what you wanted.”
Alessandro looked at it.
And for the first time, he looked afraid.
My father picked it up.
“What is this?”
Marco looked at me.
“The truth.”
I opened the notebook.
The first pages were filled with handwriting.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Then I saw something that made my blood run cold.
A page near the middle.
A medical report.
Two newborn babies.
Two names.
But one line had been crossed out.
I read it slowly.
Subject A: Raffaele Moretti
Subject B: Marco Moretti
Below that:
Transfer completed. Identity reassignment successful.
My hands started shaking.
“What is identity reassignment?”
Nobody answered.
Then Marco said:
“They didn’t just separate us.”
I looked at him.
“What did they do?”
He stared at Alessandro.
“They tried to decide which one of us deserved to exist.”
The lights flickered again.
The police moved closer.
Then every phone in the room buzzed at the same time.
Mine.
My father’s.
Bianca’s.
The officers’.
A message from an unknown sender appeared.
One sentence.
YOU FOUND THE WRONG TWIN.
Then a second message arrived.
A photograph.
A hospital room.
Two newborn babies.
And standing beside them…
A woman I recognized.
My mother.
But she was not looking at the babies.
She was looking at the camera.
And beneath the image was a final message.
YOUR MOTHER KNEW WHICH SON WAS WHICH.
Evelyn grabbed my hand.
“Raffaele…”
I stared at the photograph.
Because suddenly there was one question that mattered more than everything else.
Not who Marco was.
Not who my father was.
Not what my grandfather had done.
The question was:
May you like
If my mother knew the truth…
Why did she choose me?