Chapter 7 - Isabella Comes to San Aurelio
Matteo read the sentence twice.
"What plan?"
Maria looked equally confused.
Isabella turned to the first page.
Victor's letter had not been written as a confession.
It had been written after an argument with Elena.
He described Elena trying to separate her daughters' futures from the Marino business.
She wanted Isabella to study.
She wanted Maria protected.
And she had begun working with another family on a legitimate logistics partnership.
The Rossi family.
Matteo sat down.
"My father?"
Isabella looked at him.
"Apparently."
The letter mentioned Matteo's father, Carlo, several times.
Elena believed the Rossi distribution network could help stabilize Marino Logistics without risking her daughters' inheritance.
Victor opposed the plan.
Years later, after Elena died and Victor's businesses deteriorated, he resurrected the Rossi connection for his own reasons.
The eventual marriage arrangement had not been Elena's plan.
But the families' connection had been.
Matteo leaned back.
"So our marriage wasn't planned six years early."
"No," Isabella said. "Thank God."
Maria smiled.
"It would have been extremely creepy."
They laughed.
The tension broke.
But Isabella kept reading.
At the bottom of page two was something more important.
Elena had instructed Victor never to use her daughters as leverage in business.
He had done exactly that.
The realization hurt Isabella differently than the stolen money.
Money could be restored.
Years could not.
She folded the letter.
"I want to see him."
Matteo didn't ask whether she was sure.
"When?"
"Today."
Victor had moved into a modest apartment after surrendering control of the family companies.
He looked older when he opened the door.
Isabella entered alone.
Matteo waited outside.
That mattered.
Inside, Victor offered coffee.
She declined.
"I read your letter."
He sat down.
"I wondered if Maria would find it."
"Why didn't you send it?"
"Cowardice."
"You keep using that word."
"Because it keeps being true."
Isabella placed the letter on the table.
"My mother told you not to use us in business."
"Yes."
"You arranged my marriage anyway."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Victor looked down.
"At first? Because I needed Matteo's network."
"And later?"
"I realized he cared about you."
"That doesn't excuse it."
"No."
"You don't get credit because something good grew out of something selfish."
Victor nodded.
"No."
Isabella had imagined this confrontation a hundred ways.
In most versions, Victor defended himself.
That would have been easier.
Instead, he accepted everything.
It left her with nowhere to place her anger except where it belonged.
In the past.
"I don't forgive you yet."
Victor's eyes filled.
"I know."
"Maybe I never will."
"I know."
"But I'm done being afraid of you."
He closed his eyes.
Isabella stood.
At the door, Victor said her name.
She turned.
"Your mother would be proud of you."
Isabella's expression hardened.
"You don't get to speak for her."
Victor nodded.
"You're right."
She left.
Matteo was waiting across the street.
He didn't ask what happened.
He simply opened the passenger door.
Isabella stopped.
"I want to drive."
Matteo blinked.
"You hate driving my car."
"I want to drive."
He handed her the keys.
She smiled.
That small choice meant more than either of them said.
They drove back to Maria's house.
That evening, the sisters cooked together.
Matteo was assigned vegetables.
Maria criticized his chopping.
Isabella laughed.
For a few hours, everything felt ordinary.
Then Maria disappeared upstairs.
Ten minutes passed.
Twenty.
Isabella went to check.
She found Maria sitting on the edge of her bed holding an envelope.
"What's wrong?"
Maria looked up.
"This came yesterday."
"From whom?"
"No return address."
Inside was a cashier's check.
A large one.
Far larger than any payment Victor had restored.
Attached was a note.
For what Elena protected.
Isabella's pulse quickened.
"Did you show anyone?"
"No."
Matteo examined it downstairs.
The issuing institution was legitimate.
But the purchaser's name was shielded through an attorney.
"Don't deposit it," he said.
Maria nodded.
The next morning their lawyer traced the attorney.
The answer surprised everyone.
Daniel Mercer.
They called him.
Daniel arrived that afternoon.
He looked tired.
"You weren't supposed to trace it so quickly."
"Why did you send Maria this money?" Isabella asked.
Daniel removed his glasses.
"I didn't."
"Your attorney did."
"On behalf of someone else."
"Who?"
Daniel looked toward the window.
"Your mother."
Silence.
Isabella's face went pale.
"She's dead."
"Yes."
"Then explain."
Daniel opened his case.
"Elena created another account."
"When?"
"Before she died."
"Why wasn't it in the estate?"
"Because it wasn't hers alone."
He placed a document on the table.
Two names appeared.
Elena Marino.
Carlo Rossi.
Matteo stared at his father's name.
"What is this?"
"A reserve fund."
"For what?"
Daniel looked at Isabella and Maria.
"For both families."
Matteo felt the room tilt.
"My father never told me."
"He may not have known what became of it."
"He's been dead seven years."
"I know."
Daniel removed one final envelope.
"This was meant for Matteo."
Matteo stared at his own name written across paper more than a decade old.
The handwriting belonged to his father.
He reached for the envelope.
Then stopped.
It had already been opened.
"Who opened this?"
Daniel's face tightened.
"I didn't."
Matteo looked at the torn seal.
May you like
A second piece of paper was missing.
And whoever had taken it had done so recently.
