Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO RAISED THE WOLF
Teresa did not look like a traitor.
That was the problem.
She looked like the woman who had packed Alessandro’s school lunches.
The woman who held Gabriel when he broke his wrist at eleven.
The woman who had sat beside Salvatore Moretti’s hospital bed during his final week.
Gray hair.
Soft cardigan.
Hands that smelled of lavender soap.
One of the men behind her raised a gun.
Alessandro stepped in front of Emma and me.
“Teresa.”
She sighed.
“I hoped you’d understand without making this ugly.”
“You brought armed men into my house.”
“Your house has always had armed men.”
“Not pointing weapons at children.”
Her eyes flicked toward Emma.
“They won’t hurt her.”
“You lost the right to promise that.”
Teresa’s expression hardened.
“Give me the phone.”
Gabriel was still connected.
Alessandro held it behind his back.
“No.”
One guard moved.
Teresa lifted a hand.
He stopped.
Interesting.
She controlled them.
Not Rossi.
Her.
“Who do you work for?” Alessandro asked.
“Myself.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only honest one anyone in this family has given in years.”
I pulled Emma closer.
Teresa looked at me.
“I’m sorry about the shirt.”
I stared.
“You put it outside my cottage.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make Alessandro notice the child.”
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel refused to come home.”
Gabriel’s voice came through the speaker.
“You used my daughter.”
Teresa smiled sadly.
“You used her first.”
Silence.
“You sent photographs. The laundry receipt. Instructions. You wanted Alessandro curious.”
“I wanted him looking.”
“And I wanted him caring.”
Alessandro stared at her.
“Why?”
Teresa’s expression changed.
“Because you only protect what you believe is yours.”
“That is not true.”
“It used to be.”
That landed.
She had known him most of his life.
“You needed Emma to become family before the truth came out.”
“What truth?”
Teresa sat down as though guns were not in the room.
“Your father did not die naturally.”
Alessandro became still.
Another death.
Another lie.
Salvatore Moretti died five years earlier after a long illness.
Cancer, everyone said.
Teresa continued.
“He had cancer.”
“So?”
“He was improving.”
“What are you saying?”
“He was poisoned slowly.”
Gabriel cursed through the phone.
Alessandro looked sick.
“By whom?”
“Victor.”
That surprised everyone.
“Victor worked for my father.”
“Yes.”
“He still works for me.”
“Exactly.”
Teresa looked at me.
“Victor has been selling Moretti family information for over a decade.”
“To Rossi?”
“To anyone who pays.”
“The three million?”
“Blood money.”
“Then why was he sending money to Gabriel?”
“He wasn’t.”
Teresa smiled faintly.
“G.M. is not Gabriel Moretti.”
Alessandro frowned.
“Who?”
“Gianna Moretti.”
His face changed.
Their sister.
I knew little about Gianna.
She died at nineteen.
Drug overdose, according to old stories.
“Gianna died fifteen years ago,” Alessandro whispered.
Teresa laughed bitterly.
“You people really should stop believing funeral programs.”
I almost couldn’t process another supposedly dead Moretti.
“Gianna is alive?”
“No.”
Teresa’s voice softened.
“She survived the overdose.”
Alessandro closed his eyes.
“For how long?”
“Eight months.”
“What happened?”
“She discovered Victor was stealing from your father.”
Silence.
“Victor killed her.”
Alessandro stopped breathing.
Teresa’s eyes filled.
“She told me before she died.”
“So you knew Victor was a traitor for fifteen years?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell Dad?”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“He chose not to believe me.”
That sounded impossible.
Then Teresa explained.
Victor had become indispensable.
He controlled accounts.
Security contacts.
Political relationships.
Salvatore believed accusing him without proof would destabilize the family.
So Teresa collected proof quietly.
Years.
Names.
Payments.
Photographs.
When Gabriel learned part of the truth, Victor staged his death before Gabriel could expose him.
But Gabriel escaped.
Then Salvatore began asking questions.
Victor poisoned him gradually.
Teresa believed it.
Could not prove it.
“Why bring Emma into this?”
Alessandro asked.
“Because Gabriel would not return while Victor controlled your security.”
“So you manipulated a three-year-old.”
“Yes.”
Teresa did not hide.
“I needed you emotionally invested before I showed you Gabriel.”
My anger flared.
“She could have been hurt.”
“I watched the room.”
“You didn’t watch the shooter.”
Her face tightened.
“That wasn’t mine.”
“Whose?”
“Victor’s.”
The bullet.
Victor had discovered Teresa’s plan.
He wanted to eliminate me before Alessandro learned too much.
My stomach turned.
“And the receipt?”
“Gabriel sent the names and address to me.”
“Then why did it end up in Victor’s desk?”
Teresa smiled grimly.
“Because I put it there.”
Alessandro stared.
“You framed him?”
“No.”
“I baited him.”
She knew Alessandro would search Victor after discovering the laundry encounter had been orchestrated.
The receipt was not proof by itself.
It was a trail.
Victor reacted exactly as she expected.
He ran.
“But he also sent a shooter,” Alessandro said.
“Yes.”
“You gambled with their lives.”
“I gambled with all of ours.”
Alessandro took one step toward her.
The armed men raised their weapons.
He stopped.
Then Emma did something nobody expected.
She climbed off the bed.
“Elena,” I whispered.
Too late.
She walked toward Teresa.
The guards stared.
Emma held out Alessandro’s stained shirt.
She had apparently brought it from the laundry room earlier.
“Miss Teresa.”
Teresa’s face softened.
“Yes, baby?”
“You said stains come out if you try.”
Everyone froze.
Teresa had taught her that.
Emma continued.
“Why you make bad stain?”
Teresa’s eyes filled.
That tiny question found something guns could not.
She looked at the child she had manipulated.
Then lowered her head.
“I thought I was fixing something.”
“You made Mommy scared.”
“Yes.”
“Uncle Alessandro too.”
“Yes.”
Emma hugged the shirt.
“That bad.”
Teresa whispered:
“Yes.”
One of the armed men near the door shifted.
Then Alessandro’s phone buzzed.
Gabriel’s voice:
“Teresa.”
She looked up.
“You need to tell him.”
Her face went pale.
“Not now.”
“Tell me what?” Alessandro demanded.
Gabriel continued.
“The real reason she raised us.”
Alessandro frowned.
Teresa closed her eyes.
“She wasn’t hired by Dad.”
“What?”
“Teresa.”
Gabriel’s voice softened.
“Tell him.”
Teresa looked at Alessandro.
“I knew your mother before she married Salvatore.”
“So?”
“She asked me to stay near you.”
“Why?”
“Because Salvatore was not your biological father.”
The room became silent.
Alessandro laughed once.
“No.”
Teresa’s face broke.
“Your mother had been married before.”
“No.”
“You were nine months old when she met Salvatore.”
“He adopted you privately. Almost nobody knew.”
Alessandro stared.
“What does this have to do with Victor?”
Teresa whispered:
“Your biological father was Victor Hale’s older brother.”
Everything stopped.
Victor was not merely a trusted employee.
He was Alessandro’s uncle by blood.
And suddenly his obsession with the Moretti succession made a darker kind of sense.
If Alessandro controlled the Moretti empire, Victor had spent decades believing he deserved a share.
Not as an employee.
As family.
Before anyone could speak, one of Teresa’s armed men received a message.
His face changed.
“What?”
He showed her.
Security footage.
The mansion’s west gate.
Victor Hale had returned.
Not alone.
Three SUVs.
Teresa stood.
“He knows Gabriel called.”
Alessandro looked at Marco.
“Where’s security?”
“Half the cameras are down.”
Victor had built the system.
Of course he knew how to blind it.
Then the estate lights went out.
Emma screamed.
In total darkness, Alessandro found her hand.
And from somewhere inside the mansion, Victor’s voice came through the emergency speakers.
May you like
“Welcome home, nephew.”
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