Chapter 12 - The Price of Betrayal
The recording continued.
“Lorenzo thinks he's in control. He isn't.”
Adrian's stomach tightened.
Elena named the real architect.
Vincent Moretti.
Adrian's father.
Dead for eight years.
Or supposedly dead.
Marcus immediately reopened the records.
Vincent had died overseas.
Closed coffin.
No DNA verification.
Adrian felt the past shift beneath him.
Lorenzo had been manipulated by his older brother.
Charles and Samuel had followed orders originating from accounts created before Vincent's supposed death.
Why?
Control.
Vincent believed Adrian had become weak after marrying Elena.
He wanted his son hardened.
Elena threatened that future.
Claire's death had not been intended.
But Vincent accepted it.
Adrian felt physically ill.
A message arrived from an unknown number.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR FATHER.
An address followed.
Marcus said no.
Sofia said no.
Adrian went anyway.
The house stood near Lake Geneva.
Vincent Moretti sat beside a fireplace.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
“Son.”
Adrian stared.
“You killed them.”
“I built you.”
“You destroyed me.”
“I removed weakness.”
Adrian's expression changed.
For years, those words might have provoked violence.
Now they produced clarity.
“Elena wasn't my weakness.”
Vincent smiled.
“Love always is.”
“No.”
Adrian thought of Sofia.
Emma.
Marcus.
Rosa.
Mrs. Bellini.
“Love is the only reason I'm standing here instead of becoming you.”
Vincent's smile faded.
Police entered.
Marcus had tracked Adrian.
Adrian had known he would.
Vincent reached for a weapon.
Adrian did not.
Federal agents tackled the old man.
As Vincent was dragged away, he shouted, “Everything you have came from me!”
Adrian looked at him.
“No.”
For the first time, he understood that completely.
The important things had come from people Vincent would have considered weak.
A maid.
A mechanic.
A toddler.
A dead wife brave enough to leave evidence.
A friend loyal enough to stand beside him.
Vincent disappeared into custody.
Outside, Sofia waited beside Marcus's car.
Adrian stared.
“You followed me?”
“You're not the only stubborn person in Chicago.”
He walked toward her.
She touched his face.
“Is it finished?”
“Yes.”
But Marcus's phone rang.
His expression changed.
“Maybe not.”
A prosecutor had discovered one final account.
Money had been transferred from Vincent to someone still inside Adrian's household.
The payments continued even after the estate fire.
Adrian's face hardened.
“Who?”
Marcus looked toward Sofia.
Then slowly said the name.
“Rosa Alvarez.”
Sofia went white.
The woman who had fed Emma apples.
The woman who had cooked for Adrian for twelve years.
They returned immediately.
The kitchen was empty.
On the table sat an apple.
Beside it was an envelope addressed to Emma.
Sofia reached for it.
Adrian stopped her.
He opened it.
Inside were three words.
I'M SORRY, BABY.
Then they heard Daisy's music box playing upstairs.
Emma had gone to bed an hour earlier.
Adrian ran.
Sofia followed.
Emma's bedroom door stood open.
May you like
Her bed was empty.
And Rosa's apron lay on the floor.
