Chapter 7 - The Last Name on the Tape
Beatrice put the phone in front of Lorenzo.
“Explain.”
He read the message.
His expression did not change.
“I can’t.”
“Try.”
“I did not know the tape existed yesterday.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Lorenzo handed the phone back.
“My father was involved in the conspiracy.”
“We already know that.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would Salvatore tell me to ask you?”
Lorenzo looked at Antonio.
Antonio looked away.
Beatrice noticed.
“You know.”
Antonio sighed.
“Not enough.”
“I am finished with that answer.”
Antonio nodded.
“You should be.”
They returned to the estate before dawn.
Marco brought an audio specialist.
The cassette was placed inside professional equipment.
They digitized every second.
The specialist began identifying repeated static patterns.
Not random.
Numbers.
Names.
Account codes.
Locations.
Margaret had hidden a second record beneath the spoken recording.
Hours passed.
Beatrice sat beside Lorenzo.
Neither spoke.
Finally, the specialist turned his monitor around.
“I found a sequence near the end.”
Antonio stood.
“What?”
The screen displayed reconstructed text.
G. MORETTI — FINAL AUTHORIZATION — PORT 6.
DATE: 14 OCTOBER 1996.
Lorenzo stared.
“That was eight months before Beatrice was born.”
Antonio nodded slowly.
Beatrice looked at him.
“What happened October fourteenth?”
Antonio closed his eyes.
“The Belladonna shipment.”
Lorenzo’s face changed.
“What shipment?”
Antonio rubbed his forehead.
“A cargo vessel exploded outside Trapani.”
“How many?”
“Eleven dead.”
Lorenzo stood.
“My father told me the Vitales bombed it.”
“They did.”
“Then why was his authorization in Isabella’s ledger?”
Antonio looked at him.
“Because he gave them the route.”
Lorenzo walked away from the table.
Beatrice watched his shoulders tighten.
The revelation was personal.
Not merely criminal.
Lorenzo’s father had been killed when Lorenzo was twenty-one.
He had spent most of his adult life believing Giancarlo Moretti died defending the family.
Now every memory had changed.
Beatrice understood that feeling too well.
She stood beside him.
“You believed him.”
Lorenzo laughed quietly.
“Apparently we have that in common.”
She looked at him.
He looked back.
For a moment neither was the mafia boss nor the sold bride.
They were simply two people whose fathers had built their childhoods on lies.
Lorenzo said, “Your marriage will be annulled.”
Beatrice looked away.
“We should probably stop calling it a marriage.”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt again.
He noticed.
“Beatrice.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Be kind right now.”
His brow furrowed.
“Why?”
“Because I’m tired enough to misunderstand it.”
He went very still.
She regretted the words immediately.
But she had spent too much of her life swallowing truth.
So she continued.
“I know what this is.”
“What is it?”
“A disaster.”
“That is accurate.”
“My father traded me to you.”
“Yes.”
“You may technically be my cousin.”
“Distantly.”
“Still not helping.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
Beatrice continued.
“And yet you’re the first man I’ve ever met who makes me feel like I can say no without paying for it.”
Lorenzo’s smile disappeared.
He looked at her carefully.
“That should not be extraordinary.”
“It is to me.”
He was silent.
Then he said, “Whatever happens after this, you do not owe me gratitude.”
“I know.”
“Or affection.”
“I know.”
“Or loyalty.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
Beatrice almost laughed.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Marco entered before either could answer.
“Salvatore called.”
Lorenzo turned.
“When?”
“Thirty seconds ago.”
“What does he want?”
“Beatrice.”
“No.”
Marco held out the phone.
“He says he’ll only speak to her.”
Beatrice took it.
“Hello?”
Salvatore’s voice.
“You learned the code.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Let Lucia go.”
“Bring the cassette.”
“Where?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why call?”
He chuckled.
“To tell you what your mother never did.”
Beatrice’s skin prickled.
“What?”
“Patrick didn’t choose you randomly.”
She looked at Patrick across the room.
He had returned from the clinic under guard after refusing further treatment.
His face tightened.
Salvatore continued.
“He offered Lorenzo you because he needed you inside the estate.”
“Why?”
“To retrieve something.”
“What?”
“The original Moretti seal.”
Lorenzo heard.
His expression hardened.
Beatrice asked, “What seal?”
“A brass signet used for family authorization.”
Antonio swore.
Lorenzo turned toward him.
“The old seal?”
Antonio nodded.
“Where is it?”
“In the chapel vault.”
Salvatore laughed through the phone.
“Was.”
Lorenzo’s face darkened.
Beatrice understood.
“You used me.”
Salvatore corrected her.
“Patrick used you.”
She looked at the man who raised her.
Patrick closed his eyes.
“You told me you were trying to make Lorenzo reject me.”
“I was.”
“But there was another plan.”
Patrick whispered, “Yes.”
“What?”
“If he accepted, you were supposed to find the seal.”
“Why would I?”
“I was supposed to tell you later.”
Beatrice felt disgust.
“So even after selling me, you planned to use me again.”
Patrick’s voice broke.
“I never meant for the wedding to happen.”
“But when it did, you adapted.”
He had no answer.
Salvatore said, “Enough family therapy.”
Beatrice turned away from Patrick.
“What does the seal do?”
“It proves authenticity.”
“Of what?”
“The final page of the ledger.”
Lorenzo stepped closer.
Beatrice put the call on speaker.
Salvatore continued.
“Isabella never finished the evidence. She had transactions, names, accounts. But the final authorization was coded with Giancarlo Moretti’s seal.”
Antonio’s face changed.
“You want to manufacture the missing page.”
“Correct.”
“With Giancarlo’s seal, you can make any order look real.”
“Exactly.”
Lorenzo’s expression became cold.
“You want to blame my father for everything.”
Salvatore laughed.
“Your father deserves plenty.”
“But not everything.”
“No.”
A pause.
“Some of it belongs to Antonio.”
Everyone looked at Antonio.
Beatrice froze.
Antonio stared at the phone.
Salvatore continued.
“And Isabella knew.”
Antonio said nothing.
Beatrice’s heart pounded.
“What did he do?”
Salvatore answered.
“Bring the tape and ask him yourself.”
The call ended.
Beatrice turned toward Antonio.
“Well?”
Antonio walked to the window.
Lorenzo blocked his path.
“You have lied long enough.”
Antonio nodded.
“Yes.”
He turned toward Beatrice.
“I authorized Isabella’s removal from Sicily.”
The words struck harder than expected.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You told me Patrick kidnapped her.”
“I believed he had.”
“But you sent him?”
“No. I ordered men to remove her from company access and escort her away from the port.”
“Why?”
“Because Giancarlo learned about the ledger.”
“And?”
“I thought if she disappeared voluntarily, he would stop looking.”
“You never told her.”
“No.”
“So from her point of view, your men came after her.”
“Yes.”
“And Patrick helped her escape.”
“Yes.”
Beatrice laughed in disbelief.
“You scared the woman you loved so badly that she ran from you.”
Antonio’s eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
Patrick whispered, “Now you understand.”
Beatrice turned on him.
“No. You don’t get to use his mistake to erase yours.”
Patrick fell silent.
Lorenzo looked at Antonio.
“Where is the old seal now?”
Antonio hesitated.
“The chapel vault.”
“You said it was gone.”
“I said the vault was empty.”
“Meaning?”
Antonio looked at Beatrice.
“Isabella took the seal.”
Beatrice frowned.
“My mother had it?”
“Yes.”
“Then where is it?”
Patrick went pale.
Beatrice saw it.
“You know.”
Patrick backed away.
“No.”
“You know.”
Lorenzo stepped toward him.
Patrick turned and ran.
Marco caught him before the doorway.
The movement tore his shoulder wound.
He cried out.
A small object fell from inside his coat.
Metal struck marble.
Everyone looked down.
A brass signet rolled across the floor.
Stopped at Beatrice’s feet.
She stared at it.
The Moretti crest was engraved into the face.
Lorenzo looked at Patrick.
“You had it the entire time.”
Patrick said nothing.
Beatrice picked it up.
Then her phone vibrated.
A new location pin.
An abandoned cannery outside Cefalù.
Below it, one sentence.
MIDNIGHT. COME ALONE.
Beatrice looked at Lorenzo.
He shook his head.
“No.”
Her phone vibrated again.
This time there was a video.
Lucia sat tied to a chair.
Salvatore stood behind her.
He held a gun.
And beside them stood someone Beatrice recognized immediately.
The missing Moretti guard.
Except he was no hostage anymore.
He was smiling.
Marco whispered his name.
“Dario.”
Lorenzo went still.
Dario looked directly into the camera.
May you like
Then he said five words.
“The traitor was never Patrick.”
