Chapter 4 - The Steward’s Last Secret
For one stunned second, Lorenzo could not understand what he was seeing.
Jeppe.
The man who had poured his father’s whiskey.
The man who had carried Isabella’s wedding train when it caught on a chair.
The man who had placed a hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder outside two graves.
Holding a gun to Marco’s head.
Jeppe’s face looked twenty years older.
“Put your weapon down,” he said.
Lorenzo did not.
Matteo leaned against the wall.
Blood spread beneath his hand.
“Don’t.”
Jeppe pressed the pistol harder against Marco’s temple.
“I said down.”
Lorenzo glanced at Isabella.
She held Lucia close behind the bedroom doorway.
Emma and Maria were nowhere visible.
“Where are Maria and Emma?”
“Safe.”
“Your definition of safe has become unreliable.”
Jeppe’s eyes flickered.
“I never wanted children hurt.”
“That sentence usually comes from men who hurt children.”
“I saved Lucia.”
Lorenzo stared.
“What?”
“I was the one who got her out of the church.”
Isabella stepped forward.
“That’s true.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
Jeppe swallowed.
“I served your father. Then you. But before either of you, I served Sofia Carvelli.”
Matteo closed his eyes.
“Tell him the rest.”
Jeppe looked at Matteo with hatred.
“You don’t get to command me.”
“Then stop hiding behind half a confession.”
Lorenzo’s patience disappeared.
“Someone explains now.”
Jeppe slowly lowered the gun from Marco’s head.
Marco moved away but did not attack.
The old steward looked at Lorenzo.
“I was sent into the Duca household thirty-four years ago as a Carvelli informant.”
Lorenzo stared.
“My father knew?”
“Eventually.”
“And kept you?”
“He turned me.”
“For himself?”
“For peace.”
Jeppe looked at Isabella.
“Sofia wanted her daughter hidden. Your father agreed. Matteo helped.”
“So everyone’s been lying since before I was born.”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
Jeppe’s mouth tightened.
“When Isabella discovered who she was, she contacted me. She needed someone who understood the old Carvelli network.”
“And you helped plan the church escape.”
“Yes.”
“Did you order the attack?”
“No.”
“Then why the gun?”
Jeppe looked toward the staircase.
“Because Marco has been compromised.”
Marco’s face hardened.
“Careful.”
Jeppe tossed something onto the floor.
A small black transmitter.
“It was under your jacket.”
Marco looked down.
“What is that?”
“You tell us.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“Someone used it to track this villa.”
Lorenzo looked at Marco.
His security chief shook his head.
“Boss, I swear—”
Matteo interrupted.
“He didn’t know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the tracker came from my car.”
Everyone turned.
Matteo pressed his hand harder against the wound.
“I found it when we arrived. I slipped it onto Marco while we were moving because I wanted whoever was following the signal to think it remained with us.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Then why are they here?”
Matteo looked grim.
“Because there was a second tracker.”
Isabella’s face changed.
“On Lucia?”
“No.”
Matteo looked directly at her.
“On you.”
Silence.
Isabella touched the silver chain around her neck.
The Carvelli medallion.
She ripped it off.
Jeppe took it and examined the back.
A microscopic device had been embedded beneath the clasp.
“New,” he said.
“Someone placed this recently.”
Isabella went pale.
“Only four people have been close enough.”
“Names,” Lorenzo said.
“Maria. Agnes. Dr. Bellini.”
She hesitated.
“And Lucia’s tutor.”
Lorenzo’s voice hardened.
“Where is the tutor?”
“Not here.”
“Name.”
“Daniel Voss.”
Jeppe swore under his breath.
Lorenzo looked at him.
“You know him.”
“I know the name.”
“From where?”
“The church.”
Isabella went still.
“What?”
Jeppe turned to her.
“One of the fake emergency medics after the shooting was listed as D. Voss.”
Lorenzo felt the story shift under his feet.
“He’s been near my daughter for how long?”
“Eight months,” Isabella whispered.
Lorenzo looked murderous.
“What does he know?”
“Everything a tutor would know.”
“Her schedule?”
“Yes.”
“Her habits?”
“Yes.”
“Locations?”
“Some.”
Lorenzo turned toward Marco.
“Find him.”
Marco already had his phone out.
The villa’s alarm suddenly began screaming.
A red light flashed at the end of the hall.
Jeppe looked toward the window.
“They’re inside the grounds.”
Lorenzo ran into the bedroom.
“Is there another exit?”
Isabella nodded.
“Bathroom wall.”
Of course there was.
This family apparently constructed secret passages as a hobby.
They moved quickly.
Maria appeared carrying Emma.
“She’s frightened.”
Lorenzo knelt briefly in front of Emma.
“Remember the song?”
She nodded, tears in her eyes.
“Sing it quietly for Lucia.”
Emma looked at the older girl.
Lucia took her hand.
Emma began humming.
Lorenzo looked away before the sight broke him.
Isabella opened a concealed door behind a wardrobe.
A narrow staircase descended.
“Where does it lead?”
“Old wine cellar. Then outside.”
“You take Lucia and Emma.”
“You?”
“I’m staying.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
Six years of rage passed between them.
So did six years of love.
“I just found you.”
“Then don’t make me lose you again.”
He touched her face.
For one second.
“That is exactly why I’m staying.”
She caught his wrist.
“You still think this is about courage.”
“What’s it about?”
“Control.”
She looked at Lucia.
“If we run every time they find us, they decide where our daughter lives forever.”
Lorenzo understood.
“You want to end it.”
“I wanted to six years ago.”
“Then we end it together.”
A crash sounded downstairs.
Marco checked his weapon.
“Company.”
Matteo tried to stand straighter and nearly fell.
Lorenzo caught him.
“You’re going with the children.”
“No.”
“You’re bleeding through your shirt.”
“I’ve been bleeding around this family for thirty years. It hasn’t killed me yet.”
Jeppe almost smiled.
Lorenzo pointed toward the passage.
“Maria. Children. Go.”
Maria nodded.
Lucia hesitated.
She looked at Lorenzo.
“You’re coming?”
The question nearly destroyed him.
He crouched.
“Yes.”
“You promise?”
He had promised things before.
To Isabella.
To Lucia before she was born.
To graves.
This promise would be different.
“I promise.”
Lucia hugged him quickly.
Then followed Maria into the passage.
Emma continued humming as they disappeared.
The panel closed.
Lorenzo turned back.
The father vanished.
The boss returned.
“Marco. South staircase.”
Marco nodded.
“Jeppe. Windows.”
The old steward checked his pistol.
“Matteo, sit down before you die and annoy everyone.”
Matteo lowered himself against the bed with a grimace.
Footsteps moved downstairs.
Not chaotic.
Professional.
Lorenzo counted at least four.
Maybe six.
A voice called from the ground floor.
“Mr. Duca.”
Lorenzo recognized no one.
“We don’t want a war.”
He looked at Jeppe.
Jeppe mouthed, Liar.
The voice continued.
“We only want the girl.”
Lorenzo stepped into the hallway.
“And I only want one thing.”
“What?”
“The name of the man who sent you.”
Silence.
Then gunfire tore through the wall.
Lorenzo dropped.
Marco fired from the staircase.
A man screamed.
Jeppe shot another through the banister.
The villa exploded into noise.
Lorenzo moved downstairs.
Fast.
Controlled.
He saw a black-clad attacker near the foyer and fired once.
The man dropped.
Another appeared behind a column.
Marco took him.
The front doors stood open.
Two SUVs waited outside.
One attacker ran toward them.
Lorenzo caught him at the fountain.
He slammed the man against stone.
“Who sent you?”
The attacker spat blood.
“Go to hell.”
Lorenzo pressed the gun beneath his jaw.
“Name.”
The man laughed.
“You already invited him into your house.”
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
The attacker’s smile widened.
“You really don’t know.”
A shot cracked from behind them.
The attacker jerked.
Blood spread across his chest.
Lorenzo turned.
Jeppe stood in the doorway holding the smoking gun.
“Why did you shoot him?”
“He was reaching for a weapon.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
Jeppe’s face changed.
Lorenzo raised his pistol.
“Who were you protecting?”
“Lorenzo—”
“Who?”
Jeppe’s shoulders fell.
“A promise.”
“To whom?”
Before Jeppe could answer, Marco shouted from upstairs.
“Boss!”
Lorenzo ran back inside.
Marco stood beside Matteo.
Matteo’s eyes were closed.
For one horrible second Lorenzo thought he was dead.
Then Matteo breathed.
“What?”
Marco held up a phone.
“Found this on one of them.”
The screen displayed a live video feed.
Lorenzo took it.
The image showed the Duca mansion.
His mansion.
The grand hall.
The camera moved through it in real time.
Someone was inside.
The feed turned toward the staircase.
Then toward Lorenzo’s study.
A hand entered frame.
Opened the music box.
Removed the torn letter.
Lorenzo stared.
The person on the video turned toward a mirror.
For one second, his face appeared in reflection.
Lorenzo stopped breathing.
He knew him.
Everyone in the Duca organization knew him.
Matteo opened his eyes.
“Who is it?”
May you like
Lorenzo looked up.
“My brother.”
