Chapter 4 - HIS MOTHER’S CONFESSION
Isabella Moretti was found before noon.
Not fleeing.
Praying.
She sat alone in the estate chapel with a black rosary wrapped around both hands.
Lorenzo entered without guards.
Marco waited outside.
His mother did not turn.
“I wondered how long it would take.”
Lorenzo closed the chapel door.
“You had Clara’s letters.”
“Yes.”
The answer came too easily.
His anger sharpened.
“You knew she was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know she was pregnant?”
Isabella’s fingers tightened.
“I suspected.”
Lorenzo laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“You suspected.”
“She disappeared before I could confirm it.”
“You intercepted three letters.”
“I protected you.”
He stepped closer.
“From my daughter?”
Isabella finally looked at him.
She had aged during the night.
“I did not know Lily existed.”
“You read the letters.”
“No.”
Lorenzo stopped.
“I kept them sealed.”
“Why?”
“Because Enzo told me Clara was compromised.”
The rage drained just enough for confusion to enter.
“What?”
“He said she had stolen financial records. That she intended to turn them over to your enemies.”
“And you believed him.”
“Your father had been dead eleven months. Half the men at your table were waiting to see whether you were strong enough to survive him.”
She stood.
“You were in love.”
“You say that like it was a disease.”
“In our family, it can become one.”
Lorenzo looked at her with something close to disgust.
“Did you send the threat?”
“No.”
“Did you fake my voice?”
“No.”
“Did you arrange the crash?”
“No.”
“Did you poison her?”
Isabella slapped him.
The sound cracked through the chapel.
Lorenzo didn’t move.
His mother stared at him with tears in her eyes.
“I failed you.”
Her voice shook.
“But do not make me a murderer because it is easier than admitting you trusted the wrong man.”
Lorenzo’s jaw worked.
“What did you do?”
“I intercepted the letters because Enzo said opening them might expose us to tracking.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know that now.”
“Why keep them?”
“Because I could not destroy them.”
She looked toward the altar.
“I told myself I was protecting you. But every time I held them over the fire, I remembered the way you looked after Clara disappeared.”
Lorenzo said nothing.
“You stopped eating.”
“I ate.”
“You drank coffee and called it food.”
Despite everything, he almost smiled.
It vanished quickly.
“Why disable the cameras last night?”
Isabella looked confused.
“I didn’t.”
“Your credentials were used.”
“My access card is missing.”
“Since when?”
“I noticed yesterday afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“Because I assumed I misplaced it.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
Another mistake born from assuming small things didn’t matter.
“Where’s Enzo?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re protecting him.”
“I protected him once.”
Her face hardened.
“I will never do it again.”
Lorenzo studied her.
His mother could lie beautifully.
But she had one flaw.
When frightened, she rubbed her thumb across the cross on her rosary.
She wasn’t doing it now.
“Tell me everything.”
So she did.
Three years earlier, Enzo had come to Isabella with documents suggesting Clara had copied confidential accounts.
That part was true.
He claimed Clara planned to sell them.
False.
He claimed Lorenzo would choose Clara over family if confronted.
Possibly true.
He convinced Isabella that separating them for a few months would save Lorenzo from appearing weak.
She allowed Enzo to control Clara’s exit.
She intercepted the letters.
Then the crash happened.
“I thought she died.”
“So did I.”
“I wanted to give you the letters after.”
“But?”
“You were barely functioning.”
“So you hid them for three years.”
Isabella’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Lorenzo turned away.
He wanted to hate her.
It would have been easier.
But beneath the manipulation and pride was something more painful.
Cowardice.
His mother had known enough to ask questions.
She had chosen not to.
“I want you away from Clara.”
Isabella nodded.
“And Lily.”
That hurt her.
“I understand.”
“No.”
Lorenzo looked directly at her.
“I don’t think you do.”
He opened the chapel door.
“Until Clara decides otherwise, you do not approach my daughter.”
My daughter.
The words still felt impossible.
Outside, Marco waited.
“Anything?”
“Enzo used her.”
“Do you believe that?”
“For now.”
Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his expression hardened.
“They confirmed the substance in Clara’s tea.”
“What?”
“Digoxin.”
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.
“Source?”
“Still tracing.”
“Kitchen?”
“No. Her tea bag was clean.”
“The water?”
“Clean.”
“Then?”
“The sugar.”
Lorenzo went still.
Clara used sugar.
One teaspoon.
Every cup.
“How?”
“A small jar in her room. Contaminated.”
“Who entered?”
“We’re checking.”
“Check everyone.”
“There’s more.”
Lorenzo hated those words now.
“Say it.”
“A fingerprint on the jar.”
“Whose?”
Marco looked toward the chapel.
“Mine.”
Silence.
Lorenzo stared at him.
Marco’s face didn’t change.
“I didn’t do it.”
“Your print is on the poison.”
“I know.”
“You knew Clara?”
“No.”
“You froze when I said she had my child.”
“Because I knew what it meant.”
“What?”
Marco glanced toward the guards down the hallway.
“Not here.”
Lorenzo’s voice went flat.
“You have five seconds before I decide I don’t care where.”
Marco stepped closer.
“Three years ago, Enzo ordered me to escort a woman out of the city.”
Lorenzo stopped breathing.
Marco continued.
“He told me she had betrayed you.”
“Clara.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
“I didn’t know her name.”
“Don’t insult me.”
“I swear.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“She wore a hood. Enzo told me not to look at her face.”
Lorenzo felt something dangerous building.
“What did you do?”
“I drove her to the bus station.”
Clara’s story.
“And the car?”
“Another man took it.”
“You knew?”
“I knew Enzo wanted a false trail.”
Lorenzo stepped toward him.
“You helped fake her death.”
“I thought I was helping remove a traitor without bloodshed.”
Lorenzo hit him.
One punch.
Marco staggered into the wall.
The guards looked away.
Marco did not raise his hands.
“I deserved that.”
“Not enough.”
“I know.”
“Why is your print on the sugar jar?”
Marco wiped blood from his mouth.
“I delivered groceries to the west staff wing yesterday.”
“Why?”
“One of the staff vans broke down. I helped unload.”
“You touched Clara’s sugar?”
“I carried a crate containing pantry supplies.”
Lorenzo stared.
“You could still have done it.”
“Yes.”
Marco met his eyes.
“But if I wanted Clara dead, I had three years to finish what Enzo started.”
That was true.
Lorenzo hated that too.
His phone rang.
Clara.
He answered immediately.
“What happened?”
“Lorenzo.”
Her voice sounded wrong.
“What?”
“Lily’s gone.”
Everything inside him stopped.
“What do you mean gone?”
“I fell asleep for twenty minutes. The nurse went to get food. I woke up and she wasn’t here.”
Lorenzo was already running.
“Lock the floor.”
“I checked the hall.”
“Clara, stay where you are.”
“I’m not staying anywhere!”
“Stay where—”
He heard her gasp.
Then silence.
“Clara?”
Her voice returned, barely above a whisper.
“There’s something on her pillow.”
Lorenzo reached the medical wing.
Clara stood beside the empty bed.
In her hand was Lily’s teddy bear.
Pinned to its chest was a handwritten note.
Lorenzo tore it free.
One sentence.
BRING THE ORIGINAL LEDGER TO THE OLD GREENHOUSE.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT YOUR DAUGHTER BACK.
Clara looked at him.
“What ledger?”
May you like
Lorenzo slowly lifted his eyes.
“The one Enzo thinks you still have.”
