Chapter 3 - THE UNCLE WHO STOOD TO INHERIT EVERYTHING
Matteo Duca arrived at St. Catherine's before sunrise.
No one had called him.
That was the first mistake.
The second was the expression on his face when Lorenzo told him Lucas had been poisoned.
Not shock.
Calculation.
It vanished quickly.
But Lorenzo saw it.
“Poisoned?” Matteo repeated.
His silver hair was perfectly combed despite the hour.
At sixty-two, Matteo looked less like the senior figure in a criminal dynasty and more like a retired banker.
That had always been his gift.
He made dangerous things look respectable.
“We're still investigating,” Lorenzo said.
Matteo crossed himself.
“Madonna.”
His eyes moved toward Lucas's room.
“May I see him?”
“No.”
Matteo looked at Lorenzo.
“I am his great-uncle.”
“He is under restricted medical access.”
“Since when do hospitals tell a Duca who may enter?”
“Since I told them to.”
Silence.
Matteo smiled faintly.
“You're frightened.”
“Yes.”
The admission surprised him.
Lorenzo had spent his entire adult life hiding fear.
Tonight, he was done hiding anything connected to his son.
Matteo lowered his voice.
“Be careful that fear doesn't make you accuse family.”
“I haven't accused anyone.”
“But you're looking at me like you want to.”
Lorenzo said nothing.
Matteo's smile disappeared.
“You're tired. Go home.”
“My son is here.”
“And you have an organization to run.”
“My son is six.”
Matteo's jaw tightened.
“Exactly why someone has to think clearly.”
Lorenzo stepped closer.
“I am thinking very clearly.”
Daniel appeared at the hallway entrance.
“Sir.”
Lorenzo excused himself.
Daniel handed him a tablet.
“We traced the clinic ownership.”
Matteo watched from several feet away.
Lorenzo deliberately turned the screen off.
“What did you find?”
Daniel spoke quietly.
“Matteo's holding company purchased Bell's clinic four years ago.”
“Before Lucas got sick.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“Matteo controls the Duca family trust that activates if you die without a surviving direct heir.”
Lorenzo stared.
He knew the trust existed.
His grandfather had created it decades earlier.
He had never cared about the fine print because Lucas existed.
Daniel continued.
“If Lucas dies before turning eighteen, his voting interest reverts temporarily to the senior surviving trustee.”
“Matteo.”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo looked down the hall.
His uncle was talking to Sofia Duca—Lorenzo's aunt, who had arrived moments earlier.
Matteo looked worried.
Loving.
Perfect.
“He gets the legitimate holdings too?”
“Control, not outright ownership. But enough voting power to dominate the board.”
“How much?”
“Sixty-one percent combined.”
Lorenzo's stomach turned.
The motive was enormous.
Daniel continued.
“There's another layer.”
“Of course there is.”
“Three years ago, just after Lucas's first hospitalization, Matteo increased the life insurance policies attached to the family trust.”
Lorenzo went completely still.
“On Lucas?”
“Indirectly. Key-family continuity policies.”
“How much?”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“Nearly two hundred million.”
Lorenzo stared at his uncle.
For one horrible second, the hospital corridor became too small.
He wanted to walk over.
Drag Matteo into a room.
Demand the truth in the language men like them had always used.
Fear.
Pain.
Power.
Then a tiny voice interrupted.
“Uncle Lorenzo?”
Emma.
She stood beside Sarah holding her cloth doll.
Sarah looked apologetic.
“She refused to go home.”
Lorenzo crouched.
“You promised Lucas tomorrow.”
“It is tomorrow.”
Daniel looked away to hide a smile.
Emma was technically correct.
She held up a paper bag.
“I brought him crackers.”
“He can't eat yet.”
“Oh.”
Her disappointment was immediate.
Then she noticed Matteo.
Her entire body became still.
Lorenzo saw it.
“Emma?”
She moved closer to Sarah.
Matteo smiled.
“Is this the little detective?”
Emma did not answer.
Sarah placed a hand on her shoulder.
Lorenzo's voice sharpened.
“How did you know what she found?”
Matteo's smile froze.
The hallway became silent.
“I heard.”
“From who?”
“Staff talk.”
“No staff member outside my security team knows Emma found the packet.”
Matteo recovered.
“Then perhaps one of your security men talks.”
Daniel's face showed nothing.
Matteo bent slightly toward Emma.
“You're a brave little girl.”
Emma buried her face against Sarah's leg.
Lorenzo noticed her trembling.
Matteo straightened.
“What is wrong with her?”
Sarah's voice was cold.
“She doesn't like you.”
Matteo laughed.
“Children usually do.”
Emma whispered something.
Lorenzo leaned closer.
“What?”
She looked toward Matteo's right hand.
“Same ring.”
Everyone looked.
A heavy gold signet ring sat on Matteo's finger.
Lorenzo frowned.
“What ring?”
Emma looked at him.
“The pretty lady had one.”
Vivian?
No.
Lorenzo had never seen Vivian wear Duca jewelry.
“What do you mean?”
Emma pointed.
“Her necklace.”
Sarah's face changed.
“Emma, are you sure?”
The child nodded.
“Same bird.”
The Duca family crest was not a bird exactly.
It was a black falcon.
Matteo wore it on his signet ring.
Lorenzo remembered Vivian's necklace.
Small.
Gold.
He had assumed it was decorative.
He had never looked closely.
Matteo laughed softly.
“The crest is hardly secret.”
“No,” Lorenzo said.
“But staff don't wear it.”
Matteo's eyes hardened.
“Careful.”
That word.
Lorenzo had heard it his entire life from older men whenever truth moved too close to power.
“Go home, Matteo.”
His uncle stared.
“You're banning me from a hospital?”
“I’m telling you to leave my son's floor.”
“You will regret speaking to me like this.”
Lorenzo's voice became quiet.
“If Lucas dies, regret will be the smallest thing left in this family.”
Matteo left.
For the first time, he did not bother pretending to smile.
Mara found Lorenzo fifteen minutes later.
“The second toxicology panel is back.”
“How bad?”
“His levels are elevated, but already dropping.”
“Good?”
“Very.”
Lorenzo exhaled.
“His heart rhythm is stabilizing.”
For the first time in years, a doctor was describing improvement instead of decline.
Mara continued.
“There’s something unusual.”
“What?”
“The pattern suggests intermittent exposure.”
“Meaning?”
“He wasn't receiving the substance continuously.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“Then why was he sick almost every day?”
“Because the compound accumulated.”
Mara pulled out a chart.
“But certain severe episodes correspond almost exactly to days marked in Vivian's logs.”
“What days?”
“Medication-adjustment days.”
Lorenzo looked at the dates.
Birthdays.
Special family dinners.
Board meetings held at the estate.
Times when Vivian had insisted Lucas needed a stronger “support mixture.”
Someone had been controlling not merely whether Lucas suffered.
But when.
A nurse approached.
“Mr. Duca?”
“Yes?”
“Lucas is awake.”
Lorenzo entered.
Lucas looked exhausted.
But his eyes were clearer.
“Papa?”
“I’m here.”
“Where's Emma?”
Lorenzo smiled.
“Outside.”
“Can she come?”
“Soon.”
Lucas looked at his hands.
“Vivian said I was sick because Mama was sick before she died.”
Lorenzo froze.
“What?”
“She said Mama gave me something bad in my blood.”
Lorenzo felt rage rise again.
Elena had died when Lucas was three.
Cancer.
Nothing genetic had ever been confirmed.
“What else did Vivian tell you?”
Lucas swallowed.
“That if I told you the purple drink hurt, you'd get mad because it cost lots of money.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
A six-year-old had been trained to protect adults from his pain.
“Lucas.”
His son looked up.
“You never have to hide hurting from me.”
“But you're busy.”
The words went straight through him.
Lorenzo sat beside the bed.
“Not that busy.”
Lucas studied him.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He took his son's hand.
Then Lucas whispered:
“Vivian wasn't the one who made the purple drink.”
Lorenzo's heart stopped.
“Who did?”
Lucas looked toward the door.
“The doctor with the blue glasses.”
Dr. Bell.
Then he added:
“But Uncle Matteo brought the little bottles.”
May you like
And just like that, suspicion became something much closer to evidence.
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