Chapter 5 - THE WILL ISABELLA NEVER EXPECTED LORENZO TO FIND
Lorenzo’s brother had left two wills.
The first everyone knew.
His estate went to Leo and Mia.
Lorenzo served as guardian and trustee until Leo turned twenty-five.
Simple.
The second will was hidden inside the red ledger.
Signed six weeks before his murder.
Witnessed by two attorneys.
Far more specific.
If both children died before reaching adulthood, their inherited interest in Moretti Shipping would not pass to Lorenzo.
It would be sold.
Half the proceeds would fund a trust for families harmed by Moretti business operations.
The other half would go to a named charitable foundation.
Thorne Children’s Relief.
Elra stared at the name.
“Thorne?”
Lorenzo sat at the library desk.
“Yes.”
“Victor’s foundation?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“At current valuation?”
He looked at her.
“Approximately one hundred eighty million.”
Elra went cold.
“So if Leo and Mia die…”
“Victor Thorne receives control of a foundation funded with ninety million.”
“And Isabella becomes your wife.”
“Yes.”
“Which gives Thorne influence over your companies too.”
“Yes.”
Elra sat.
“Dear God.”
Lorenzo looked toward the ceiling.
The children slept upstairs.
He had not left them alone for more than twenty minutes since the freezer.
“She wasn’t trying to scare them.”
“No.”
“She was trying to remove them.”
“Maybe.”
Elra stared.
“Maybe?”
“We prove things.”
The line surprised her.
This man’s reputation suggested he did not wait for proof.
Lorenzo continued.
“My brother wrote that will because he feared the children could become leverage.”
“Then why name a Thorne charity?”
“That is what makes no sense.”
Rocco entered.
He looked tired.
“Found the attorney.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Milwaukee.”
“Bring him.”
The attorney arrived by noon.
Samuel Klein.
Seventy.
Retired.
He had helped draft the second will.
Lorenzo placed it in front of him.
“Why Thorne Children’s Relief?”
Klein removed his glasses.
“Because it wasn’t Victor’s foundation then.”
Everyone waited.
“Your brother created it.”
Lorenzo froze.
“What?”
Klein nodded.
“Privately.”
“Why call it Thorne?”
“Because he intended to expose Victor using Victor’s own money.”
Elra frowned.
Klein explained.
Lorenzo’s brother had discovered Victor Thorne was laundering funds through fake charities.
He prepared a legal trap.
If the children died suspiciously, their Moretti holdings would fund an independent organization whose charter automatically triggered audits of any similarly named Thorne charitable entities.
The foundation was bait.
A legal alarm.
Victor eventually discovered it.
“So killing the children would expose him,” Elra said.
“Yes.”
“Then why would Isabella—”
Klein looked at Lorenzo.
“Unless someone altered the foundation documents.”
Rocco swore.
They checked.
Three months earlier, control of Thorne Children’s Relief had been amended.
New board members.
One of them:
Isabella Thorne.
Another:
Marco Bellini.
The trap had been stolen.
Now, if the children died, the money could be diverted before auditors caught up.
Lorenzo stood.
“Who authorized amendment?”
Klein looked horrified.
“Requires trustee approval.”
Everyone looked at Lorenzo.
He shook his head.
“I signed nothing.”
Rocco went still.
“Electronic signature.”
Lorenzo’s face changed.
Marco had access.
“Find every document he filed.”
Rocco left.
Elra sat quietly.
After a while:
“Lorenzo.”
He looked at her.
“Why did your brother make you guardian if he thought your world was dangerous?”
The question hurt him.
She saw it.
“Because he trusted me more than anyone else.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
He looked toward the children’s photographs on the shelf.
“My brother wanted out.”
“Of the family?”
“Of the illegal part.”
Elra waited.
“I told him he was naïve.”
Her expression softened.
“He said if we had enough legitimate money, we didn't need the rest.”
“What did you say?”
“That men don’t give up power because it becomes unnecessary.”
“And now?”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“Now he’s dead.”
Elra knew that wasn’t an answer either.
But it was closer to truth.
That evening Mia refused dinner.
Not because she wasn’t hungry.
Because the soup had cream in it.
Isabella had once told her cream made little girls “fat and ugly.”
Elra crouched beside her.
“Do you like soup?”
Mia whispered:
“Yes.”
“Then eat soup.”
“Miss Isabella said—”
“Miss Isabella is not here.”
Mia looked toward Lorenzo.
He was sitting at the other end of the table.
Quiet.
Watching.
“Uncle Renzo?”
There. Better nickname. “Renzo” fits Lorenzo, not Enzo. Let's use Renzo going forward.
“Yes?”
“Am I heavy?”
His face broke.
“No.”
“But if I eat—”
“No.”
He left his chair.
Came around.
Knelt beside her.
“You are growing.”
Mia frowned.
“That good?”
“Yes.”
“Leo says carrots make you tall.”
Leo nodded authoritatively.
“Very.”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“Scientific.”
Leo ate another carrot.
Mia picked up her spoon.
Elra looked away because anger made her eyes burn.
Isabella had not only locked them in a freezer.
She had been teaching them to fear themselves.
After dinner, Leo brought Elra a folded sheet of paper.
“What’s this?”
He whispered:
“Secret.”
Crayon drawing.
House.
Tree.
A woman with yellow hair.
A man beside her.
Then a black square beneath the stairs.
“What’s the square?”
Leo looked toward the door.
“Her room.”
“Isabella had a room?”
He nodded.
“At our house?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“Other house.”
Lorenzo entered behind them.
Leo froze.
Then relaxed.
“What other house?” Lorenzo asked.
Leo pointed.
“Miss Isabella took us.”
Lorenzo crouched.
“When?”
“When you went to New York.”
Two months earlier.
Lorenzo had attended a business meeting for three days.
Isabella had been responsible for the children.
His face went white.
“Where?”
Leo struggled.
“Big water.”
“Lake?”
“Yes.”
“House by lake?”
Leo nodded.
Rocco immediately began pulling up properties connected to Isabella.
One north of Chicago.
Lake Forest.
Purchased under a shell company.
They went with police the next morning.
The house looked empty.
Inside:
Children’s clothes.
Medical supplies.
Passports.
Two passports bore Leo and Mia’s photographs.
Different names.
Elra stared.
“Why fake passports?”
Lorenzo’s voice became cold.
“To make them disappear.”
In an upstairs office they found documents.
Enrollment forms for a Swiss boarding school.
Private aviation schedules.
A letter signed by Isabella:
Upon marriage to Lorenzo Moretti, children will be relocated for security and educational reasons.
Elra felt sick.
“She planned to send them away.”
Rocco opened a locked drawer.
Inside were two more documents.
Death certificates.
Blank.
But names already typed.
Leo Moretti.
Mia Moretti.
Lorenzo stared.
A third paper sat beneath them.
A life-insurance policy.
Insured:
Lorenzo Moretti.
Beneficiary:
Isabella Thorne.
Twenty-five million dollars.
Rocco whispered:
“Boss.”
Lorenzo did not move.
Elra looked at him.
This had never been only about the children.
Isabella planned to marry Lorenzo.
Control access.
Remove Leo and Mia.
Then perhaps remove him too.
The engagement wasn’t a peace treaty.
It was a takeover.
A floorboard creaked downstairs.
Rocco drew his weapon.
“Police?”
No answer.
Another creak.
May you like
Then the unmistakable click of a door locking.
Someone else was inside the house.
