Chapter 2 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Marco did not reach for a weapon.
He did not need to.
Six members of his security team moved before he spoke, surrounding the corridor from both sides.
The stranger raised his empty left hand.
His right hand held a thick brown file.
“Elena,” he said.
She stared.
Marco stepped in front of her.
“You know him?”
Elena’s mouth moved, but no sound came.
The man appeared to be in his late sixties.
Gray hair.
Deep lines around the eyes.
A slight limp.
Marco remembered a younger version of that face from childhood dinners and whispered arguments behind closed doors.
Carlo Bianchi.
His father’s former accountant.
The official story said Carlo died in a boating accident twelve years ago.
No body had ever been recovered.
Marco had not questioned it.
In his world, bodies disappeared all the time.
But dead men did not walk out of locked basement corridors.
“You have three seconds,” Marco said.
Carlo almost smiled.
“You sound exactly like your father.”
“One.”
“That isn’t a compliment.”
“Two.”
“I’m here because Lucia asked me to protect her daughter.”
Elena finally found her voice.
“My mother knew you?”
Carlo looked at her.
“She trusted me once.”
Marco moved closer.
“Where have you been?”
“Hiding.”
“From whom?”
Carlo glanced past him.
At Isabella.
She stood near the terrace doors.
Her face had become unreadable.
Carlo’s eyes shifted back to Marco.
“From the people who killed Lucia.”
Elena gripped the front of Marco’s vest around her shoulders.
Marco noticed.
He also noticed Isabella taking another small step toward the hallway.
“Dante.”
The security chief blocked her path.
Isabella laughed nervously.
“Are you holding me prisoner now?”
“For the moment,” Marco said.
“I’m your fiancée.”
“You were.”
Her face cracked.
Only for a second.
Then anger replaced shock.
“You’re ending our engagement because a maid fell into a lake?”
“No.”
Marco looked at Elena.
“I’m ending it because you pushed her.”
Then he looked at Carlo.
“And because apparently everyone in my house has been lying to me.”
Carlo held out the file.
“This belongs to Elena.”
She did not take it.
“What is it?”
“Your mother’s records.”
“About what?”
Carlo exhaled.
“Everything.”
Marco’s patience vanished.
“Stop speaking in riddles.”
Carlo looked at him.
“Your mother Sofia discovered someone was using Moretti companies to hide money that didn’t belong to the family.”
Marco’s eyes hardened.
“Who?”
“She didn’t know at first.”
“And Lucia?”
“Lucia was her closest friend.”
Elena looked stunned.
“My mother was a housekeeper.”
“She was also the only person Sofia trusted completely.”
Carlo’s eyes softened.
“People with power often make the mistake of believing staff are invisible. Your mother used that.”
Elena swallowed.
“What did she find?”
Carlo looked at Marco.
“A second set of accounts.”
Marco felt his stomach tighten.
His father, Vittorio Moretti, had controlled the family organization with absolute authority until his death.
Marco had inherited businesses, enemies, debts and secrets.
But he had spent years stripping away the worst parts of what his father built.
He had closed illegal operations.
Sold properties.
Turned restaurants and real estate companies into legitimate holdings.
He believed he understood his inheritance.
Carlo was telling him he never had.
“Who controlled the second accounts?”
Carlo answered.
“Salvatore DeLuca.”
Isabella’s father.
Silence filled the hallway.
Isabella shook her head.
“My father is a businessman.”
Carlo looked at her.
“Your father is a thief.”
“You’re a dead man.”
“Not yet.”
Marco turned.
“Dante, where is Salvatore?”
“Not on the guest list.”
“Find him.”
Dante spoke into his radio.
Carlo opened the folder.
Inside were bank statements, handwritten ledgers and photographs.
Elena stared at one picture.
Her mother stood beside Sofia Moretti.
They were younger.
Smiling.
Not employer and servant.
Friends.
Her eyes filled.
“She never told me.”
“She wanted to,” Carlo said. “But knowing would have put you in danger.”
Elena looked at him.
“She died last year.”
Carlo’s expression darkened.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“I watched from a distance.”
“Then why didn’t you come to me?”
“Because the people watching me were also watching you.”
Elena stepped forward.
“You let me bury my mother alone.”
Carlo’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she made me promise.”
Elena’s voice rose.
“She was dying!”
“She was protecting you.”
“That doesn’t make it hurt less.”
“No.”
For the first time, Carlo looked old.
“No, it doesn’t.”
Marco glanced through the papers.
His mother’s handwriting appeared in several margins.
Short notes.
Dates.
Initials.
One sentence had been underlined twice.
If anything happens to Lucia or me, look at the DeLuca trust.
Marco’s jaw tightened.
Isabella saw it.
“This is manufactured.”
“By my mother?”
“By him.”
She pointed at Carlo.
“He disappeared for twelve years. He could have created anything.”
Carlo nodded.
“She’s right.”
Everyone turned.
Isabella blinked.
Carlo continued.
“Paper can be forged.”
Marco waited.
“That’s why Sofia recorded everything.”
“The storage key?”
Carlo nodded.
“She made three copies.”
Elena looked toward the office.
“So the one in the lake—”
“Was one of them.”
Marco understood.
“Who hid it there?”
Carlo looked at Elena.
“Lucia.”
Elena’s eyes widened.
“Why?”
“Because the lake was the one place Sofia believed Salvatore’s people would never search.”
Isabella scoffed.
“And somehow Elena falls into the exact spot where it was hidden?”
Carlo looked at her.
“No.”
His answer was calm.
“She was pushed.”
The words hung there.
Marco turned toward Isabella.
For the first time, she appeared truly afraid.
“You knew,” he said.
“No.”
“You knew something was in the lake.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Then why did you look at Elena’s hand before you looked at Elena?”
Isabella said nothing.
Marco stepped closer.
“I watched you.”
“Marco—”
“You weren’t surprised she found something.”
“That’s not true.”
“You were surprised she survived.”
Her face changed.
The hallway became deathly quiet.
Elena stared at Isabella.
Marco had not planned the accusation.
He had simply said what his instincts told him.
Isabella’s reaction confirmed enough.
She backed away.
“You’re insane.”
“Maybe.”
Marco nodded toward Dante.
“Take her phone.”
“No.”
Dante stepped forward.
Isabella clutched it.
“You cannot do this.”
“You’re inside my home.”
“This is my engagement party!”
Marco’s voice dropped.
“Your engagement ended at the lake.”
Dante took the phone.
Isabella struggled once.
Then stopped.
“Unlock it.”
“No.”
Marco looked at her.
“Unlock it.”
She laughed.
“You think I’m afraid of you?”
“No.”
He glanced at Elena.
“I think you’re afraid of her.”
Isabella’s eyes flashed.
Elena saw something in them.
Something more than hatred.
Recognition.
“You knew my mother,” Elena said.
Isabella said nothing.
“You did.”
“I never met her.”
“You said her name when you were talking to that man.”
“I said your name.”
“No.”
Elena’s voice became steadier.
“You said, ‘Lucia should have destroyed it when she had the chance.’”
Marco turned sharply.
“You didn’t mention that before.”
“I wasn’t sure.”
Isabella’s breathing changed.
Elena moved closer.
“Now I am.”
Carlo closed his eyes.
Marco noticed.
“You heard that name too?”
Carlo nodded.
“Lucia discovered the DeLuca trust in 2014.”
Isabella’s father had begun publicly working with the Moretti family in 2015.
Marco suddenly remembered something.
His mother died in 2015.
Officially from an aneurysm.
No suspicious circumstances.
No investigation.
Nothing.
He looked at Carlo.
“My mother.”
Carlo did not answer.
“Was her death natural?”
Carlo’s silence was enough.
Marco moved so fast Dante stepped between him and Isabella.
Not to protect her.
To protect Marco from making a decision he could never undo.
Marco stopped.
His hands curled into fists.
“What happened to my mother?”
Carlo took a breath.
“I don’t know.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the truth.”
“You just told me—”
“I know she was frightened before she died. I know she believed someone inside the family had betrayed her. I know she gave Lucia evidence three days before her death.”
“And then?”
“She collapsed.”
“Poison?”
“We never proved it.”
Marco looked toward Isabella.
She shook her head.
“I was twenty-one.”
“Your father wasn’t.”
“My father loved Sofia.”
Carlo gave a humorless laugh.
“Your father loved money.”
Marco’s phone vibrated.
Dante checked his own radio simultaneously.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We located Salvatore DeLuca.”
“Where?”
Dante listened.
His face hardened.
“Security found his car outside the east service gate.”
“Bring him in.”
“He’s not in it.”
Marco looked toward the windows.
“Where is he?”
“We don’t know.”
A guard hurried down the hallway.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“What?”
“We checked the basement after Mr. Bianchi came upstairs.”
Marco looked at Carlo.
“What about it?”
The guard hesitated.
“The archive room is open.”
Carlo’s face changed.
“I locked it.”
“Someone forced the inner door.”
“What was inside?” Marco asked.
Carlo looked at Elena.
“The other copy.”
Everyone went still.
Marco turned to Dante.
“Lock every exit.”
“Already done.”
“Search the grounds.”
“Teams are moving.”
Isabella suddenly smiled.
It was small.
But Elena saw it.
“You think this is funny?” she asked.
Isabella looked at her.
“No.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“Because Marco still doesn’t understand.”
Marco stepped closer.
“Understand what?”
Isabella looked at Carlo.
“You told him about Sofia.”
“Yes.”
“You told him about Lucia.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t tell him why Elena was hired.”
Marco looked toward Carlo.
Carlo’s face drained of color.
“Elena came here with a recommendation letter,” Isabella continued. “A letter signed by someone Marco trusted.”
Elena frowned.
“Mrs. Bellini.”
Isabella smiled wider.
“No.”
Elena stared.
The recommendation letter had been given to her after her mother’s funeral.
It had arrived in a sealed envelope.
The signature belonged to Anna Bellini, a retired Moretti housekeeper.
Elena had never spoken with Anna directly.
She had assumed her mother arranged it.
Marco turned to Dante.
“Call Bellini.”
Dante did.
He waited.
Then frowned.
“No answer.”
Carlo stepped forward.
“We need to get Elena out of the house.”
Marco looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because if Salvatore knows she found the storage device—”
“He’s already inside,” Isabella said.
Marco turned.
“What?”
Isabella immediately realized she had said too much.
Dante grabbed her arm.
“Where?”
“I didn’t say—”
“You said he’s inside.”
“I meant if he’s inside.”
“No,” Elena whispered.
Everyone looked at her.
She was staring at Isabella’s confiscated phone.
A new notification had appeared on the locked screen.
No sender name.
Only a message preview.
Marco picked it up.
The message contained six words.
BRING ELENA TO THE WEST WING.
A second message appeared.
OR TERESA DIES FIRST.
Elena turned.
Teresa was no longer standing behind them.
Her chair was empty.
May you like
The kitchen door at the end of the hall was slowly swinging shut.
And a trail of broken white pearls led toward the west wing.
