Chapter 6 - The Father Elena Never Knew
The address led to a small house seventy miles north of Villa Moretti.
Marco wanted Elena nowhere near it.
Elena responded by getting into his car before he finished arguing.
“You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“You were nearly killed yesterday.”
“I was pushed into a lake.”
“You insist on that distinction every time?”
“Yes.”
Marco started the engine.
“Why?”
“Because when people change the words, they change what happened.”
That ended the argument.
Dante followed in another vehicle.
Police had been informed of the address, but Marco and Elena were permitted to accompany Detective Grant because the location might be connected to evidence in the old cases.
The drive took ninety minutes.
Elena barely spoke.
Her father.
Alive.
Possibly.
The idea felt too large to fit inside her.
She had spent twenty-nine years without him.
As a child, she had imagined him from scraps.
A firefighter.
A musician.
A traveler.
Her mother had only said he died before Elena was born.
Lucia had cried once when Elena asked.
After that, Elena stopped.
Now every memory shifted.
Every birthday.
Every school recital.
Every scraped knee.
Every time she had wished there were two people in the audience instead of one.
Marco glanced at her.
“You don’t have to go inside.”
“Yes, I do.”
“He may not be there.”
“I know.”
“He may not be who you hope.”
“I know.”
Marco nodded.
That was all he could offer.
The house stood alone behind an old orchard.
No guards.
No luxury cars.
No sign that a Moretti had ever lived there.
Detective Grant knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
“Elena?”
A voice came from inside.
She froze.
An old man opened the door.
Tall.
Thin.
Silver hair.
A scar along one cheek.
He stared at Elena.
Then covered his mouth.
“Lucia.”
Elena could not breathe.
“No.”
The man’s eyes filled.
“No. Of course.”
He stepped backward.
“Elena.”
She looked at Marco.
Marco nodded once.
The old man moved as though he wanted to touch her.
He stopped himself.
“My name is Lorenzo.”
“I know.”
“You found the locket.”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
“I told Lucia never to use it.”
“She’s dead.”
Lorenzo’s face crumpled.
He already knew.
That somehow made it worse.
“How long?” Elena asked.
“What?”
“How long have you known she died?”
“Fourteen months.”
“And you didn’t come.”
Lorenzo looked away.
“I couldn’t.”
“Everyone says that.”
“Elena—”
“No. Everyone says they were protecting me. Teresa. Carlo. Vale. My mother. Now you.”
Her voice broke.
“I was alone at her funeral.”
Lorenzo’s eyes filled.
“I watched from across the cemetery.”
Elena slapped him.
The sound cracked through the quiet room.
Detective Grant took one step forward.
Marco raised a hand.
Lorenzo did not move.
Elena stared at him.
“You watched?”
“Yes.”
“You watched me bury her?”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe I had nobody?”
“Yes.”
She hit him again.
This time tears ran down his face.
Marco remained still.
Some pain did not need intervention.
Finally Elena’s hands fell.
“I hate all of you.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“You have every right.”
“That isn’t helpful.”
“I know.”
“Why were you hiding?”
“Because Vittorio tried to kill me.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
Lorenzo looked at him.
“Your father discovered I was helping Sofia trace Salvatore’s accounts.”
“What did he do?”
“Put a bomb in my car.”
Elena stared.
“I survived because I wasn’t driving.”
“Who was?”
Lorenzo’s face went pale.
“My best friend.”
Silence.
“Everyone assumed I died.”
“So you stayed dead,” Marco said.
“Yes.”
“And left Lucia pregnant.”
Lorenzo looked toward Elena.
“I didn’t know.”
She froze.
“What?”
“I didn’t know about you until you were three.”
“Why?”
“Lucia believed contacting me would expose both of us.”
“Then you learned.”
“Yes.”
“And still stayed gone.”
“I watched you from a distance.”
Elena laughed bitterly.
“Apparently that’s a family tradition.”
Lorenzo accepted it.
“I sent money.”
“My mother refused charity.”
“I know.”
“Then what?”
“I paid bills anonymously.”
Elena remembered.
A medical debt disappearing when she was eight.
A school scholarship Lucia swore Elena had earned.
The mysterious fund that covered part of college.
Her anger became more complicated.
That made it worse.
“You don’t get credit for hiding.”
“I’m not asking for it.”
Marco looked around.
“Why come out now?”
“I didn’t.”
Lorenzo’s expression darkened.
“Someone found me.”
“Isabella?”
“No.”
“Salvatore?”
“No.”
Everyone went still.
“Who?”
Lorenzo walked to a cabinet.
He removed a folder.
“Vittorio had another partner.”
Marco almost laughed from exhaustion.
“Of course he did.”
“This one stayed invisible.”
“Name.”
Lorenzo gave him the file.
“Robert Bellini.”
Marco frowned.
“Anna Bellini’s husband?”
“Yes.”
Elena remembered the recommendation letter.
“Anna.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“She really did sign your recommendation.”
“Why?”
“Because Robert told her to.”
Marco opened the file.
Robert Bellini had served as a legal adviser for Moretti Holdings for twenty-eight years.
He had retired six years earlier.
Marco trusted him.
More importantly, Marco’s mother had trusted him.
“Why bring Elena into the villa?” Marco asked.
“To find the trust documents.”
Elena understood.
“They used me.”
“Yes.”
“They thought I would lead them to whatever my mother hid.”
“Yes.”
“And when I didn’t?”
“They pressured Isabella.”
Marco frowned.
“Isabella was working for Bellini?”
“Through Salvatore.”
“So who was actually in charge?”
Lorenzo looked at Marco.
“Robert.”
Marco felt something settle into place.
Robert had drafted the engagement restructuring.
Robert recommended merging the trusts.
Robert had personally told Marco the documents were routine.
He had been smiling across the terrace two hours before Elena fell.
“Where is he now?”
Lorenzo looked toward the window.
“He was outside this house last night.”
Detective Grant immediately radioed officers.
Marco moved closer to the glass.
Nothing.
Then Elena noticed a photograph on the wall.
A much younger Lucia holding a baby.
Beside her stood Lorenzo.
For the first time, Elena saw herself between both parents.
She touched the frame.
Lorenzo stood several feet away.
“I have hundreds.”
She looked at him.
“Hundreds?”
“Your mother sent them through Carlo.”
“You watched me grow up.”
“Yes.”
Elena hated how much that mattered.
She wanted to hate him cleanly.
Instead she saw a lonely old man who had spent decades staring at photographs.
It did not erase what he had done.
It did not erase what he had missed.
But it changed the shape of the anger.
Marco’s phone rang.
Dante.
“What?”
His face hardened.
“You’re sure?”
Elena turned.
“What happened?”
Marco ended the call.
“Isabella contacted the police.”
Everyone stared.
“She wants to surrender.”
“Where?”
“Villa Moretti.”
Elena frowned.
“Why there?”
“She says Bellini is coming.”
Lorenzo went pale.
“No.”
Marco looked at him.
“What?”
“He knows about the room under the chapel.”
“So?”
Lorenzo grabbed the file.
“Sofia didn’t put the original ownership documents in Lucia’s room.”
Elena felt a sinking sensation.
“Where are they?”
“Inside Sofia’s coffin.”
Silence.
Marco stared.
“My mother’s coffin?”
“She knew nobody would open it.”
Elena looked at him.
“If Bellini needs those documents destroyed—”
“He’ll go to the mausoleum.”
Marco was already moving.
They reached Villa Moretti after sunset.
Police surrounded the property.
Isabella stood in the main hall wearing borrowed clothes and handcuffs.
She looked exhausted.
No makeup.
No red gown.
No confidence.
Elena stopped several feet away.
Isabella looked at her.
“I didn’t mean for you to die.”
Elena’s expression did not change.
“You still pushed me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Isabella cried.
Not elegantly.
Not theatrically.
“I hated you.”
“That’s obvious.”
“My father spent years telling me everything depended on marrying Marco. Then Bellini said some maid had a hidden ownership claim and could ruin it.”
“So you decided to humiliate me.”
“Yes.”
“And my mother?”
Isabella shut her eyes.
“I changed the medicine.”
Elena’s breath caught.
“I thought it would make her sleep.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“My father said—”
“Your father wasn’t holding the bottle.”
Isabella cried harder.
“You’re right.”
Elena looked at her for a long time.
“I hope you spend every day remembering that.”
Then she turned away.
Marco watched her.
He said nothing.
A security alarm sounded.
Dante ran in.
“Mausoleum.”
Marco looked toward the rear doors.
“Camera?”
“Movement inside.”
“Bellini?”
“Unknown.”
They ran.
The family mausoleum stood beyond the gardens.
Police surrounded it.
The iron door was open.
Marco entered first.
Sofia’s stone crypt had been disturbed.
The outer plate lay on the floor.
Inside, the coffin lid was open.
Empty.
Marco stared.
“My mother’s coffin is gone.”
Elena noticed tracks on the floor.
Dragged toward a rear service door.
Lorenzo stepped into the mausoleum.
“Robert knew the tunnel.”
“What tunnel?”
Lorenzo pointed behind a statue.
An opening.
Marco cursed.
They followed it.
The passage ended near the lake.
Moonlight reflected on dark water.
A vehicle waited beside the service road.
Its doors were open.
No driver.
No coffin.
Elena’s phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph.
Sofia’s coffin.
Placed on a wooden dock.
A man stood beside it.
Robert Bellini.
The message beneath it read:
ELENA COMES ALONE.
Then a second message arrived.
OR HER FATHER GOES INTO THE LAKE FIRST.
May you like
Elena looked up.
Lorenzo was no longer standing behind them.
