Chapter 161 More heartbeats

Chapter 161 More heartbeats
ISABELLA'S POV

The London sun was surprisingly warm, spilling across the duvet as I sat propped up against the headboard. For the first time in days, my chest didn't feel tight. The "ghost" of the Hartley name was fading, replaced by the weight of the envelope on my nightstand containing my real birth certificate.

I was on the phone with Olga, the familiar rasp of her Berlin accent grounded me.

"I'm telling you, Izzy, you're a legend," Olga laughed on the other end. "A British citizen by blood? That's some movie-level plot twist. I'm just happy the 'creeps' didn't win." She paused for a few seconds "They got bars too. Does that make you the heir of your family because or?" She asked what I have been thinking "Is this real?" 

The heir? Well, they are old and unless they got Valentina, I don't get it but it wasn't my problem.

I smiled, leaning back. "It feels real now, Olga. Like I'm finally standing on solid ground."

"Good. You deserve every bit of it," she said, though I heard a bit of rustling in the background. "Listen, I have to run. I'm going to a friend's place today to help her arrange... well, something. A big event. You know how it is."

"Of course," I said, not thinking twice about it. "Go. Be the organizational queen you are. I have to check my email anyway-the hospital said the results should be in by now."

"Call me the second you know," Olga urged. "Love you, girl."

"Love you too."

I clicked the phone shut and stared at the screen. A notification was already there. Private & Confidential: DNA Paternity Test Results.

My heart did a slow, heavy throb against my ribs. Even though I knew, that lingering trauma from the Lukas Berger era whispered in the back of my mind. I didn't want to see it alone.

I threw off the covers and ran downstairs, my bare feet silent on the cold marble. I found Mateo in the study, standing by the window with his phone already in his hand. He looked like he'd seen a ghost-or a miracle.

"Mateo?" I breathed.

He turned, and the look on his face was pure, unadulterated shock. He didn't say a word; he just beckoned me over and turned his screen toward me.

Probability of Paternity: 99.99% - Mateo Rossi.

I let out a breath I felt like I'd been holding for months. "I knew it," I whispered, a tear pricking my eye. "I knew it was you."

"Isabella, look lower," Mateo said, his voice strained.

I scanned the medical notes attached to the report. My eyes skipped over the legal jargon until they hit the clinical summary:
Note: Presence of two distinct fetal heartbeats detected via non-invasive prenatal screening. Early gestational spotting consistent with multiple pregnancy implantation.

"Two?" I shrieked. "Mateo, it says two!"

I started jumping, my hands flying to my mouth as I jubilated, but Mateo was on me in a second. He caught my waist, pinning me against the desk to keep me still.

"Babe! Stop! Careful!" he laughed, his eyes bright with a mix of terror and joy. "You're carrying a small army now! You can't be jumping around like a gymnast!"

"Twins, Mateo! That's why I was so sick, that's why there was blood... it wasn't a tragedy, it was just... more of us."

"Champagne time!"

We both turned to see Lucian standing in the doorway, his hair messy from sleep but a huge grin on his face. He didn't know about DNA tests or citizenship papers, but he knew when the energy in the house changed.

Mateo walked over, ruffling Lucian's hair. "Not for you, kiddo. And definitely not for Isabella."

He walked to the sideboard, pouring a tiny, symbolic splash of champagne into a glass for Lucian and a tall glass of sparkling apple juice for me.

"To the Rossis," Mateo said, clinking his glass against mine. "All five of us."

I grinned, taking a sip of the cold juice. "Just so you know, I am never taking Lucian to a club. He's already too much like you."

"Hey!" Lucian protested, though he looked proud.

As they started debating what "Two babies" meant for the playroom, I slipped back to the desk. I opened my laptop and composed a short, clinical email. I attached the PDF of the results and addressed it to Lukas Berger.

I didn't add a long message. I didn't need to. I just wrote: For your closure. Please heal and move on.

I hit send. It was the final tether, snapped clean. Lukas was a ghost of a life I didn't live anymore. Nathan and Valentina? I won't say I hope they don't die.

"...no, look. I am stronger..."

I looked up at Mateo, who was currently letting Lucian "check" his muscles. 

This was my life. These were my people. And in three days, at the Gala, I was going to show the world that Isabella Hartley was gone-and Isabella Cortez was here to stay.

My grandparents can cry for me using their name but I deserve it after they let me live in absolute lack.