Chapter 4 - The Brother Who Should Have Hated Her
Serena held the phone tighter.
"Julian?"
Dante watched her expression.
The caller said something.
Serena looked directly at Dante.
"No."
Another pause.
"Then tell me yourself."
She listened.
Her face changed from suspicion to confusion.
Finally, she said, "Where?"
Dante stepped closer.
"Serena."
She raised one finger.
Wait.
It irritated him more than it should have.
Then she hung up.
"Julian wants to meet."
"No."
Serena turned.
"I wasn't asking."
Marco coughed to hide a laugh.
Dante ignored him.
"Where?"
"The Bellacorte house."
"Absolutely not."
"Apparently the house contains something my father left for me."
"Then we secure it first."
"Julian said I have to enter personally."
Dante thought of the letter.
The house was built to recognize you.
Biometric security, perhaps.
Voice.
Fingerprints.
Retinal scans.
Twelve years ago, the Bellacortes could afford technology most people thought existed only in movies.
They returned to New York before sunset.
The Bellacorte estate stood behind iron gates in Sands Point.
Serena stopped when she saw it.
Memory arrived slowly.
Not terror this time.
A bicycle.
Christmas lights.
Her mother's piano.
Julian pushing her into a swimming pool.
Her father pretending not to laugh.
She pressed one hand against the car window.
"I lived here."
Dante said nothing.
Some truths deserved silence.
Julian Bellacorte waited inside the entrance hall.
Thirty-nine years old.
Tall.
Thin.
Silver beginning at his temples.
He looked nothing like the villain Serena had built in her mind during the drive.
He looked exhausted.
Then he saw her.
Everything collapsed.
"Serena."
His voice broke.
She stayed ten feet away.
Julian did not approach.
Smart.
"You look like Mom," he whispered.
Serena stared at him.
"I don't remember you clearly."
Pain crossed his face.
"I know."
"Did you do this to me?"
"No."
"The tape had your voice."
"I know."
"The document had your signature."
"I know."
"That's not an answer."
"No. I didn't do it."
"Then prove it."
Julian nodded.
"I will."
Dante watched from Serena's right side.
He disliked Julian.
That meant nothing.
Dante disliked most rich men.
Especially ones who acted helpless after inheriting billions.
Julian's gaze moved toward him.
"Moretti."
"Bellacorte."
Serena noticed.
"You two know each other."
Julian laughed without humor.
"Our fathers did."
Dante said, "That's a generous word for it."
Their fathers had alternated between partnership and near-war for twenty years.
Serena cut through it.
"Where is what Dad left?"
Julian looked toward the staircase.
"In his office."
They entered a room preserved almost exactly as Charles Bellacorte had left it.
Leather chairs.
Dark shelves.
Family photographs.
Serena stopped in front of one.
She and Julian were teenagers.
She was sitting on his shoulders.
Both laughing.
Her fingers touched the frame.
A memory hit.
Julian sneaking her into a concert after their father forbade it.
Another.
Julian punching a boy who grabbed her at school.
Another.
Julian sitting beside her after their grandmother died.
Serena's knees weakened.
Julian took one involuntary step forward.
She raised her hand.
He stopped.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just..."
"You don't owe me recognition."
That nearly broke her.
Dante looked away to give them something resembling privacy.
Julian approached the desk.
"Father installed a biometric vault after the accident. Nobody could open it. Not even me."
"Why?"
"It requires two family identities."
"Yours and mine?"
"No."
He pointed toward a scanner.
"Yours and Mom's."
Serena frowned.
"Mom is dead."
Julian nodded.
"But Dad kept one of her medical samples in the vault mechanism."
Strange.
Expensive.
Exactly the kind of thing a paranoid billionaire would do.
Serena placed her palm against the reader.
Nothing.
Julian said, "Say your full name."
She hesitated.
Then:
"Serena Helena Bellacorte."
A green light appeared.
A hidden compartment opened in the floor.
Inside was a steel box.
Julian stared.
"Twelve years."
Serena looked at him.
"You waited twelve years?"
"Every day."
She did not know whether to believe him.
Dante noticed the box had no dust on one edge.
Someone had touched it recently.
"Nobody touch it."
Julian frowned.
"It's been sealed."
"No."
Dante pointed.
"That hinge was cleaned."
Marco crouched.
"He's right."
The room tightened.
Someone had accessed the supposedly inaccessible compartment.
Julian looked genuinely alarmed.
"That's impossible."
Dante almost smiled.
"I've heard that a lot lately."
Inside the box they found photographs, bank ledgers, and a video drive.
The video was dated two weeks before Charles Bellacorte's death.
They played it.
Serena's father appeared on screen.
Older.
Thinner.
Terrified.
"If Serena is watching this, then I failed to bring you home myself."
Serena covered her mouth.
Charles continued.
"The accident was not an accident. Someone arranged the yacht malfunction and paid Dr. Avery to falsify your death."
Dante leaned forward.
"I believed Julian was involved. I was wrong."
Julian closed his eyes.
The video continued.
"The evidence against him was manufactured while he was hospitalized. His voice was reconstructed from private recordings. His signature was copied digitally."
Serena looked at her brother.
Julian's eyes filled.
"I told you."
She said nothing.
Charles spoke again.
"The person responsible needed both of my children removed from control of Bellacorte Holdings."
Marco muttered, "Follow the money."
Dante agreed.
Charles explained that after Serena's death and Julian's incapacitation, temporary control had passed to a family trust.
Three trustees.
Charles's cousin, Victor Bellacorte.
Chief financial officer Martin Hale.
And Helena Bellacorte's younger sister, Evelyn Cross.
Serena whispered, "Aunt Evelyn."
Memory flashed.
Perfume.
Pearls.
A woman brushing Serena's hair.
Then something darker.
A voice telling her not to tell her mother.
She shivered.
Dante noticed.
"What?"
"I remember my aunt."
"Good or bad?"
"I don't know."
The video continued.
"I identified money transfers linking one trustee to Avery."
Charles looked off-camera.
Then back.
"But before I could confirm which one, Helena died."
Serena went still.
Charles's voice became unsteady.
"Your mother did not overdose willingly."
Julian looked down.
Serena's breath caught.
Dante's jaw clenched.
Charles continued.
"She was murdered because she discovered where Avery had taken you."
Serena turned away from the screen.
Julian finally approached.
This time she did not stop him.
He put his arms around his sister.
For several seconds, Serena stood frozen.
Then she collapsed against him.
Twelve missing years lived inside that embrace.
Dante gave them the room.
An hour later, Serena sat at the kitchen table with Julian.
Her hair filled two chairs beside her.
Luca patiently worked on another section.
For the first time, Serena asked Julian questions that had nothing to do with murder.
"What was my favorite food?"
"Anything Dad said was unhealthy."
"Music?"
"Terrible pop songs."
"Was I annoying?"
"Unbearable."
She smiled.
"So you liked me."
"I loved you."
The smile disappeared.
Julian's voice softened.
"I never stopped."
Serena looked down.
"I don't know how to be your sister."
"You don't have to remember how. We can start over."
Dante heard that from across the room.
It was the first truly hopeful thing anyone had said since the salon.
Then Marco ruined it.
"Found Victor Bellacorte."
Everyone turned.
"Where?"
"Dead."
Julian stood.
"What?"
"Car accident six years ago."
"Martin Hale?"
"Alive. Lives in Connecticut."
"Evelyn?"
Julian answered before Marco could.
"Aunt Evelyn is still in Manhattan."
Serena looked at him.
"Do you see her?"
"Rarely."
"Why?"
"After Dad died, she fought me for control of the trust."
Dante asked, "Did she win?"
"No."
"Who did?"
"Martin Hale."
That mattered.
The CFO.
The man with access to financial systems.
Marco searched archived transactions.
Then his face changed.
"What?"
"Payments to Avery came from a Bellacorte shell company."
"Controlled by?"
"Martin Hale."
Julian exhaled.
"So it's Hale."
Dante shook his head.
"Too easy."
Serena looked frustrated.
"Everything is too easy for you."
"Because people who plan murder for billions rarely leave their name on a transfer."
"Maybe he got careless."
"Maybe."
Dante pulled up Hale's profile.
Seventy-two.
Retired.
Widower.
No children.
Member of six charitable boards.
He had publicly mourned Serena.
He had also gained temporary authority over billions after her disappearance.
Motive.
Opportunity.
Access.
Still too obvious.
Dante looked at Evelyn Cross.
Sixty-three.
Elegant.
Widowed twice.
No criminal history.
She ran the Helena Bellacorte Foundation for Missing Children.
Dante stared at the screen.
A foundation for missing children.
Created one year after Serena disappeared.
That felt wrong.
"Serena."
She approached.
He showed her Evelyn's photograph.
Serena's face immediately changed.
"What?"
"I don't know."
"Memory?"
"Maybe."
She touched her hair.
"She hated my hair."
Julian frowned.
"Aunt Evelyn?"
"Yes."
"She always complimented it."
Serena shook her head.
"No. When nobody was around."
A memory surfaced.
A dressing room.
Evelyn holding scissors.
Sixteen-year-old Serena backing away.
Her aunt saying:
"You look too much like your mother with all that hair."
Serena gripped the table.
Dante saw her panic.
"Stay here."
"No."
"Look at me."
She did.
"You're here. Not there."
Her breathing slowed.
Julian stared.
"What did you remember?"
Serena swallowed.
"Evelyn tried to cut my hair."
"When?"
"Before the accident."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Luca stopped brushing.
"Maybe that's why you panic when anyone tries to cut it."
Serena looked at him.
The idea landed hard.
Hair was not merely survival.
It was memory.
A boundary.
Something someone had once tried to take.
Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
Then handed it to Dante.
"It's Evelyn."
Nobody had called her.
Dante put it on speaker.
A refined woman's voice filled the room.
"Dante Moretti."
"Evelyn."
"I hear you've been entertaining my niece."
Serena went cold.
Dante asked, "Who told you?"
Evelyn laughed softly.
"My dear, wealthy families have fewer secrets than poor ones."
Serena stepped closer.
"Aunt Evelyn."
Silence.
Then Evelyn's voice changed.
"Oh, Serena."
The tenderness sounded real.
That made it worse.
"You poor child."
Serena said, "Did you know I was alive?"
Another pause.
"I prayed you were."
"That's not what I asked."
"Come see me."
Dante shook his head.
Serena ignored him.
"Why?"
"Because your mother left something with me."
Julian stood.
"What?"
Evelyn continued.
"Something Helena said Serena alone should receive."
"Where?"
"My apartment."
Dante took the phone.
"We'll choose the location."
"No, Dante."
Her tone sharpened.
"This is Bellacorte family business."
"Serena's safety is my business."
Evelyn laughed.
"Is it?"
Then she said something that made Dante's blood run cold.
"Perhaps you should tell Serena what your father was doing aboard the Celestine the night she disappeared."
Serena slowly turned toward him.
Dante did not speak.
Evelyn whispered:
"You didn't know, did you?"
The call ended.
Serena stared at Dante.
"Your father was on the boat?"
Dante looked at Julian.
Julian looked equally shocked.
"I don't know," Dante said.
But Marco was already searching the old passenger logs.
Thirty seconds later, he found an erased entry in a secondary security manifest.
ANTONIO MORETTI.
Dante's father.
Serena's expression hardened.
"You told me your father worked with my family."
"He did."
"You didn't tell me he was there when I supposedly died."
"I didn't know."
Serena stepped away.
For the first time since the salon, she looked at Dante with fear.
Then a hidden printer inside Charles Bellacorte's office suddenly activated.
Nobody had touched it.
One sheet emerged.
A recent photograph.
Dante's father.
Alive.
Taken three days ago.
Antonio Moretti had been declared dead five years earlier.
May you like
Under the photograph were six words:
ASK HIM WHO THREW SERENA OVERBOARD.
