Chapter 21 Happy Birthday Father
Bella’s POV
The revelation of my parentage felt like a physical blow, a sudden, violent tearing of the fabric of my reality. For twenty-six years, I had walked through life with a hollow ache in my chest, constantly questioning what was wrong with me. I had looked into the cold, distant eyes of
Mr. and Mrs. Ricci wondered why I couldn't earn a single shred of their affection.
I had been the perfect daughter, the silent soldier, the sacrificial lamb, and still, they had looked at me with a disgust that bordered on hatred.
Now, I know why.
I wasn't their failure but their leverage. I was the living, breathing evidence of a sister they had erased and a man they had manipulated.
All those years of self-loathing, the nights spent crying and wondering why my own mother couldn't stand to touch me…it was all a lie. I wasn't the problem…I was never the problem.
“Bella?” Ethan’s voice was soft, a rare gentleness breaking through his usual iron-clad exterior. He stepped into my line of sight, his hand hovering near my shoulder but not quite touching me. He knew I was fragile right now, a glass vase held together by the sheer pressure of my own rage.
He rushed over after hearing what I said, he knew something was wrong.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, though my voice sounded like it was coming from miles away. I looked at the file Paige had left on the table. The name ‘Elena Ricci’ felt heavy, a ghost I had never known but whose blood was currently screaming through my veins. “I just… I want to be sure, Ethan. I can’t build a war on a ‘perhaps.’ I need the truth in black and white.”
“I’ll get it,” Ethan promised, his eyes darkening with a lethal resolve. “The Mayor is hosting a pre-gala dinner tonight at his private residence. My contact on the catering staff will get me what we need. A glass, a hair and a napkin, anything with his DNA. By tomorrow morning, you’ll have your answer.”
I spent the next twenty-four hours in a state of calmness. I didn't train or eat. I sat in my room, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows shift as the sun crossed the sky.
My mind was a battlefield, one moment I felt a desperate, childish hope, the idea of a father who might actually love me. The next, I felt a crushing weight of betrayal. If Mayor Monroe was my father, then he was the man protecting the person who tried to kill me.
He was the man who had let Haley step into my shoes while I was being hunted.
The test results arrived at dawn.
Ethan didn't say a word when he entered my room. He simply handed me the sealed envelope from the private lab. My hands shook as I tore it open. I skipped past the technical jargon, the markers, and the percentages, until my eyes landed on the final sentence.
Probability of Paternity: 99.99%.
It was real…I was the daughter of Mayor Arthur Monroe.
I didn't cry, instead, a cold calm settled over me. The last remaining piece of the "old" Bella, the one who wanted love and acceptance finally died. In her place was something vengeful. I looked at the paper and saw not a father, but a weapon. I saw the key to the Moretti empire’s total collapse.
“It’s time,” I said, looking up at Ethan.
“The Gala starts at eight,” Ethan replied, his gaze intense. “I’ve had a gown prepared. It’s custom-made, something the ‘old’ you would never have worn. And the disguise… It's a new level of technology. Even Lucas won't recognize you from three feet away.”
The process of transformation took hours. The skin mask was applied with surgical precision, subtly widening my jaw and lifting my brow. My hair, usually dark and straight, was styled into a sophisticated, voluminous ash-blonde updo. I wore deep green contact lenses that masked the familiar brown of the Riccis.
Then, there was the gown. It was a deep, midnight-blue velvet, floor-length and backless, with a slit that climbed dangerously high up my thigh. It was the dress of a woman who demanded to be seen, a woman who held power in the palm of her hand. As I looked in the mirror, I didn't see the broken wife, I saw a queen returning to her throne.
We arrived at the Mayor’s Gala in a sleek, silver Bentley. The venue was the City Grand Hall, a massive structure of white marble and gold leaf, crawling with the city’s elite. Paparazzi flashes exploded like lightning strikes as we stepped onto the red carpet. Ethan, dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, acted as my escort, his hand firm on the small of my back.
As we entered the ballroom, the scent of expensive lilies and vintage champagne washed over me. The music was a soft, orchestral hum, and the chatter of the wealthy was a low buzz.
I scanned the room, my eyes sharp and cold. It didn't take long to find them.
Lucas and Haley were at the center of the room, standing near the Mayor’s podium. Lucas looked impeccable in a navy-blue suit, his face a mask of practiced confidence.
He was playing the part of the grieving, resilient widower to perfection. Beside him, Haley was practically glowing. She wore a bright red gown, a color that screamed for attention and she was clinging to Lucas’s arm as if he were a trophy she had just won at an auction.
They were smiling, laughing, and shaking hands with donors as if they hadn't just branded his sister and her best friend as insane forty-eight hours ago.
Seeing them together made my blood boil. The sheer audacity of their happiness, built on the bones of my life, was an insult to the universe. I felt a surge of raw anger and the urge to scream, to run over and claw those smiles off their faces, but I forced it down. I breathed through the anger, turning it into a coldness in my chest.
“Wait for the signal,” Ethan whispered into my ear.
We moved through the crowd like ghosts and no one recognized me. People looked, mesmerized by the "new" beauty in the room, but they saw a stranger. I watched as the Mayor took the stage. He was a tall, distinguished man with silver hair and a face that looked weary but powerful. He stood at the podium, a birthday cake being wheeled out beside him. It was his fiftieth birthday, the perfect night for a family reunion.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Mayor began, his voice booming through the hall. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight. As I look out at this room, I see the future of our city. I see partners, friends, and family…”
He looked toward Haley and Lucas, giving them a warm, paternal nod. Haley beamed, her chest swelling with pride.
Suddenly, the lights in the ballroom flickered and died.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The music stopped, replaced by a heavy, expectant silence. In the darkness, I felt Ethan slip away toward the control booth.
A second later, the massive digital screens behind the podium, the ones that had been showing a montage of the Mayor’s political achievements hummed to life. But it wasn't a campaign video.
The screen was filled with the image of a DNA test result.
It was large, clear, and unmistakable. At the top, in bold letters, were the names Arthur Monroe and Eva Valente. The red percentage 99.99% glowed like a neon sign in the darkened room.
We chose to use a different name as I couldn't risk exposing myself yet.
The silence in the ballroom became deafening. I could hear the frantic whispers starting to build, a low tide of shock.
I saw Lucas stiffen, his eyes fixed on the screen, his face turning a ghostly shade of grey even in the dim light. Haley’s mouth hung open, her hand dropping from Lucas’s arm as she stared at the name printed next to her stepfather’s.
This was the moment.
I stepped out from behind a marble pillar, moving slowly and deliberately toward the stage. A single spotlight, controlled by Ethan, followed my every move. The click of my heels on the marble floor was the only sound in the room.
The Mayor stood frozen, his eyes darting from the screen to me. He looked confused, terrified, and hopeful all at once.
As I got closer, the crowd parted for me like the Red Sea. I felt the weight of a thousand eyes on me, but I didn't care. My gaze was locked on the man at the podium.
I reached the steps of the stage. Lucas was standing just a few feet to my left. I could feel the heat of his gaze, the frantic gears of his mind turning as he tried to figure out who I was and how this was happening. But I didn't look at him.
I walked up the steps and stood directly in front of the Mayor. Up close, I could see the resemblance, the shape of the eyes, the line of the brow. The blood connection felt like a physical hum between us.
The Mayor’s voice was a mere whisper, his hands trembling as he gestured toward the screen. “What is this? Who… who are you?”
“ I am Eva Valente, Elena Ricci's daughter” I replied calmly, whispering the last part in his ear.
“Who are you, someone drag this imposter out!” Haley yelled angrily.
I saw the Mayor’s eyes fill with tears as he looked at my face. He slowly reached out a shaking hand, his fingers brushing my cheek as if to confirm I was real, that I wasn't just another hallucination.
“Elena?” he whispered, his voice thick with a lifetime of grief.
“No, Father,” I said, my voice clear and steady, carrying to every corner of the silent ballroom.
I picked up a glass of champagne from the podium and raised it high, my eyes locking onto Lucas’s gaze.
“Happy birthday, Father,” I said, my voice dripping with a beautiful sweetness. “Your daughter is home, and she’s brought the truth with her.”