Chapter 5 Blood and Roses

# Chapter 5: Blood and Roses

The room exploded into chaos. Victor's security converged on Elena, while the Cardinal's nuns raised their weapons. I found myself pulled behind Victor's body, his arm creating a protective barrier.

"Stand down!" Victor commanded, his voice cutting through the confusion. "All of you!"

Elena remained calm amidst the chaos, her eyes—so eerily like my own—fixed on me. "We don't have much time. The drugs being administered to your brother have been compromised."

"How do you know about Jamie?" My voice trembled.

"Because I've been watching him for twenty years." She turned to Victor. "Just as I've been watching you, Victor Cosimo."

Victor's expression darkened. "Who are you really?"

"I told you. Elena Blackwood. Antonia's aunt." She produced a worn photograph—a young woman holding twin babies. "Your mother was my sister, Antonia. She died giving birth to you and your brother."

"My brother?" I whispered. "I only have Jamie, and he's—"

"Your half-brother," Elena interrupted. "From your father's second marriage."

The world seemed to tilt beneath me. "No, that's impossible. I would know if—"

A sharp pain cut through my abdomen, doubling me over. Victor caught me before I could fall, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"She needs rest," Seraphina interjected, moving toward me with a syringe.

"Don't," Elena warned. "Whatever she's giving you, it's designed to induce visions. It's how they control the vessels."

Victor knocked the syringe from Seraphina's hand. "Is this true?"

Seraphina's composure cracked. "You need to see, Victor. Both of you. The truth about your bloodlines."

As if on cue, my vision began to swim. The drugs already in my system taking effect, pulling me under into a half-dream state. Fragmented images flashed before me:

_A woman—my mother?—being dragged away by robed figures, a golden-haired infant in her arms..._

_A hospital nursery, two cribs, a nurse swapping identification cards..._

_Victor as a child, standing beside a stern man as they watched a woman being lowered into a grave..._

I surfaced from the visions with a gasp, finding myself cradled in Victor's arms. His face was inches from mine, eyes wide with concern.

"What did you see?" he asked softly.

"My mother," I whispered. "And... you. As a child."

"Impossible," he murmured, but doubt clouded his features.

Dario stepped forward, producing a folded document from his jacket. "Not impossible. Your father made sure of that."

He handed the paper to Victor, whose expression hardened as he read.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A genetic report." Victor's voice was deadly quiet. "Comparing your brother Jamie's DNA with my uncle Alessandro's."

Elena nodded. "Jamie isn't just your half-brother, Antonia. He's a Cosimo by blood—Alessandro's son with your father's second wife."

"That's why his illness mirrors the Cosimo defect," Dario added. "It's why Victor's been obsessed with your family for years."

Victor's grip on the paper tightened until his knuckles whitened. "Where did you get this?"

"Your father's private archive," Dario said. "The same place I found records of what happened to your mother."

Victor moved so quickly I barely saw it—one moment beside me, the next with his hands around Dario's throat.

"My mother died in childbirth," he snarled.

"She died during an experimental procedure," Dario choked out. "Trying to save your twin."

The Cardinal stepped forward. "That's enough! This knowledge is forbidden."

Victor released Dario, turning to face the Cardinal with cold fury. "What do you know about my birth?"

"Only what is necessary," the Cardinal replied smoothly. "Now, Miss Blackwood needs medical attention. The stress is endangering the sacred embryos."

As if to punctuate his words, a sharp pain tore through me. I cried out, clutching my stomach.

Seraphina rushed to my side, professional instincts overriding whatever agenda she held. "She's having contractions. Too early—the babies won't survive."

Victor lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the examination table. "Stop it," he ordered Seraphina. "Whatever's happening, reverse it."

"I can't," she replied, genuine fear in her eyes. "Unless—" She glanced at the Cardinal, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

She produced a different syringe. "This will stabilize her, but there's a price."

"Name it," Victor said without hesitation.

"The boy child belongs to the Church. Sign the release."

I grabbed Victor's wrist. "No. Don't trust them."

His eyes met mine, conflicted. "If we lose both—"

"Then we lose both," I said fiercely. "But they're mine. Ours."

Something shifted in his expression—surprise, perhaps, at my inclusion of him in that "ours."

"There's another way," Elena interjected. She turned to the Cardinal. "The original agreement. From twenty years ago."

The Cardinal paled visibly. "That contract was voided."

"Not by all parties," Elena insisted. She looked at Victor. "Your father made a deal—one Cosimo son to the Church, one to inherit the family legacy."

Victor's expression darkened. "What are you saying?"

"You had a twin brother," Elena said softly. "The Church took him at birth."

The room fell silent. Even Seraphina looked stunned by this revelation.

"Lies," the Cardinal declared. "This woman is delusional."

"Am I?" Elena challenged. She turned to Seraphina. "Tell him. Tell Victor what happened to his brother."

Seraphina's hands trembled as she administered medication to slow my contractions. "I don't know what she's talking about."

"You were there," Elena pressed. "You assisted with the birth. Before Victor's father recruited you to find genetically compatible women."

The pain in my abdomen began to subside under Seraphina's treatment, clearing my head enough to watch this drama unfold. Victor stood perfectly still, his face a mask of controlled fury.

"Is this true?" he asked Seraphina.

She couldn't meet his eyes. "Victor, you have to understand—"

"IS IT TRUE?" he roared, making everyone flinch.

"Yes," she whispered. "Your brother was taken by the Church. For the greater good."

Victor's composure shattered. He grabbed the nearest medical tray, hurling it against the wall. "Where is he now?"

The Cardinal stepped back, signaling his nuns. "This discussion is over. The woman and the sacred embryos come with us."

"No one is going anywhere," came a new voice.

In the doorway stood a young man in Church attire—tall, golden-haired, with eyes the exact shade of blue as Victor's. At his hip hung a ceremonial sword.

"Knight Commander," the Cardinal stammered. "This doesn't concern you."

"Doesn't it?" The young man stepped into the room, his gaze fixed on Victor. "When it involves my biological father?"

Victor stared at the newcomer. "Who are you?"

"I was baptized Michael," he replied. "Raised by the Sacred Order. But according to the records I found hidden in the Cardinal's office, I was born Vittorio Cosimo II."

The Cardinal lunged for an alarm button, but Michael's sword was at his throat in an instant.

"I wouldn't," he said softly. "I've already dismissed your guards."

Seraphina made a small, choked sound. "My son."

Michael turned to her, his expression cold. "Not according to the birth records. I'm his son." He nodded toward Victor.

The room spun around me, not from medication but from the sheer weight of revelations. Victor looked shell-shocked, staring at the young man who could have been his younger self.

"The extraction scar," I whispered, remembering Seraphina's revelation. "You said it was from Victor's firstborn."

"It was," she said, tears streaming down her face. "Just not in the way you thought."

A sudden, violent contraction doubled me over. This time, the pain was accompanied by a warm gush of fluid.

"Her water broke," Seraphina announced, professional instincts taking over. "The babies are coming—now."

Victor was instantly at my side, his hand finding mine. "Antonia—"

"Don't let them take them," I gasped through the pain.

His eyes met mine, and I saw something there I'd never expected—not just determination or possession, but genuine fear. Fear for me.

"I won't," he promised. Then, to everyone's surprise, he brushed his lips across my forehead in a gesture so tender it brought tears to my eyes. "I need you to live through this. Both of you."

As another contraction hit, I clutched his hand. Through the haze of pain, I noticed something strange—Victor's rose tattoo, visible at his partially unbuttoned collar, was seeping blood, the crimson liquid tracing the delicate lines of the inked petals.

The ancient words of the Cosimo curse whispered through my mind: "When roses weep, the blade slays its beloved."