Chapter 3 - The Woman in San Aurelio
Matteo called back immediately.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
He was already moving toward the car.
"Back to Belladonna. Now."
The driver didn't ask questions.
Matteo called the house staff.
The housekeeper answered.
"Where is my wife?"
"Mr. Marino arrived ten minutes ago, sir."
"Where are they?"
"Library."
"Is Isabella alone with him?"
A pause.
"Yes."
Matteo's voice became cold.
"Stay near the library. Do not interfere unless Isabella asks you to. Call me if Victor leaves with her."
He hung up.
Four hours suddenly felt like forty.
He called Isabella again.
Nothing.
Then Maria called him.
"Did you tell Victor?"
"No."
"Someone did."
"I know."
Maria's breathing sounded uneven.
"He's been calling me."
"Don't answer."
"I never do."
"Lock your door."
A bitter laugh.
"You think locks matter?"
Matteo stared through the windshield.
"What does Victor have over you?"
Maria was silent.
"Isabella said you could lose more than the house."
"She shouldn't have said that."
"Maria."
"No."
"I am trying to help."
"That's exactly what Isabella was afraid of."
"Why?"
"Because men like you think helping means taking control."
Matteo had no immediate answer.
Maria continued.
"My sister didn't need another man making decisions for her."
The line went quiet.
Then Maria said, "Ask her about our mother."
The call ended.
Matteo sat back.
Their mother.
In three years of marriage, Isabella had spoken about Elena Marino only a handful of times.
She had died when Isabella was twenty-two.
Matteo had been told it was sudden.
Nothing more.
He opened the folder again.
For the first time, he stopped looking at the recent transfers.
He looked at the institutions.
One name repeated.
Elena Marino Community Assistance Trust.
Matteo stared at it.
He called Luca.
"I need one thing."
"I thought you told me to stop."
"This is different."
"What?"
"Find out who controls the Elena Marino Community Assistance Trust."
"How fast?"
"Before I get home."
Three hours later, Luca called.
"You sitting down?"
"Talk."
"The trust was established twelve years ago."
"By Elena?"
"Yes."
"Beneficiaries?"
"Her daughters."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
"Isabella and Maria?"
"Originally."
"Originally?"
"Two years after Elena died, management authority changed."
"To whom?"
"Victor Marino."
Matteo looked out the window.
"And now?"
"Technically still Victor. But there's something else."
"What?"
"The trust should contain significantly more money than it does."
"How much is missing?"
Luca gave him the figure.
Matteo went silent.
It was enormous.
"Where did it go?"
"I don't know."
"Find out."
"Matteo—"
"Legally."
"Obviously."
"No shortcuts. No intimidation. Documents only."
"Understood."
By the time Matteo reached home, Victor's car was gone.
Matteo entered through the front doors.
"Where's Isabella?"
The housekeeper pointed upstairs.
"Dressing room."
Matteo found her sitting beside the marble island.
The empty bracelet box was still there.
She had changed nothing.
Her eyes were red.
Matteo stopped in the doorway.
"Did he hurt you?"
"No."
"What did he want?"
She laughed without humor.
"What do you think?"
"I don't know anymore."
Isabella stood.
"You went to Maria."
"Yes."
"You went to the factory."
"Yes."
"You asked questions."
"Yes."
"After I begged you not to."
"I thought you were in danger."
"I was protecting her."
"From Victor?"
Isabella looked away.
Matteo placed the photocopied property document on the marble.
She stared at it.
Then he said:
"Your mother's trust."
Her face went white.
There it was.
The center of everything.
"You knew," Matteo said.
Isabella sat again.
"How long?"
"Since eight months ago."
"What happened eight months ago?"
"Maria collapsed."
Matteo waited.
Isabella stared at her hands.
"She called me from the hospital. She didn't want to. A nurse convinced her."
Her voice became smaller.
"I hadn't spoken to my sister properly in almost two years."
"Why?"
"Victor."
Matteo sat opposite her.
"Tell me everything."
Isabella closed her eyes.
"Our mother left us money. Not enough to make us wealthy, but enough that Maria would always have a home and both of us would have something independent of the family business."
"Victor became trustee."
"Temporarily."
"Apparently not."
Isabella nodded.
"I was young. Maria was younger. Victor said he would manage everything."
"What happened?"
"Years passed."
Her fingers tightened.
"Whenever we asked questions, there was always an explanation. Taxes. Investments. Property expenses. Business losses."
"And you believed him?"
"I wanted to."
That hurt more than if she'd said yes.
"Then Maria got sick."
Matteo said nothing.
"She needed money. I asked Victor to release her portion."
"He refused."
"He said the trust had almost nothing left."
"And you discovered that wasn't true."
"I discovered money had been moved through companies I didn't recognize."
Matteo leaned forward.
"Why didn't you come to me?"
Isabella looked at him.
"Because our marriage began with Victor."
The words hit him.
"If I accused him of taking our mother's money, what would happen?"
"I would have investigated."
"Exactly."
"And?"
"You would have gone to war with him."
"No."
"Matteo, look at what you did over a bracelet."
He stopped.
She wasn't accusing him cruelly.
She was stating a fact.
"You crossed four hours of highway because I wouldn't tell you where jewelry went."
"Because I love you."
"I know."
Tears filled her eyes.
"That's what scared me."
Matteo's anger vanished.
Isabella continued.
"Maria didn't want a fight. She didn't want Victor to know she needed help. So I started paying quietly."
"With your personal account."
"At first."
"Then he noticed."
She nodded.
"Transfers started failing. Questions came through family accountants. So I needed money that wasn't connected to any account Victor could watch."
Matteo looked at the empty jewelry box.
"The bracelet."
"Yes."
"The necklace."
"Yes."
"Everything."
"Almost."
Matteo glanced at her wedding ring.
She covered it instinctively.
"I would never sell this."
His throat tightened.
"You could have told me."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"I was ashamed."
"Of helping your sister?"
"Of needing your help."
Matteo stared at her.
She wiped her cheek.
"I had spent my entire life being somebody's responsibility. My mother's. Victor's. Then I married a man who could solve problems with one phone call. I wanted to solve this myself."
Matteo stood and walked around the island.
He stopped in front of her.
He didn't touch her until she reached for him.
Then he took her hands.
"You are not my responsibility."
Her expression crumpled.
"You're my wife."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"And that means you don't have to earn the right to ask me for help."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Matteo asked, "What did Victor say today?"
Isabella pulled her hands away.
"He knows someone accessed the trust records."
"Luca."
"He thinks it's you."
"It is."
"He told me to stop."
"Or?"
Isabella looked at him.
"He'll remove Maria from the house."
"We can buy her another house."
"That's not what I'm afraid of."
"Then what?"
Isabella stood.
She walked to the wardrobe.
From behind a drawer, she removed an old envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Elena Marino.
Beside her stood Victor.
And a third man Matteo didn't recognize.
On the back, Elena had written a date.
And five words.
If anything happens, ask Daniel.
Matteo read it twice.
"Who's Daniel?"
"I don't know."
"Did Victor know your mother left this?"
"No."
"Why does it matter?"
"Because Maria found it eight months ago."
Matteo looked at Isabella.
"And?"
"Two days later, somebody broke into her house."
Silence.
"They didn't take money," Isabella whispered.
"They didn't take electronics."
She pointed to the photograph.
"They searched for this."
Matteo turned it over again.
Daniel.
Before he could ask another question, Isabella's phone vibrated.
A message.
From Maria.
Isabella opened it.
Her face drained of color.
Matteo took one step closer.
"What?"
She turned the screen toward him.
There were only six words.
Someone is inside the house.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
I think he found the photograph.
