Chapter 12 - She Tried to Take My Children
My mother's letter was twelve pages long.
By page three, I understood why Victor had spent years searching for it.
Caroline Vale hadn't merely discovered the Bellini-Vale trust.
She had redesigned it.
Years before my marriage, she had quietly purchased controlling stakes in distressed properties both families were fighting over. She combined them with assets inherited from her own grandmother, then placed everything into a protected structure.
Anthony and Victor hadn't built the fortune.
They had managed it.
And gradually convinced themselves management meant ownership.
My mother had known exactly what kind of men they were.
So she'd created a safeguard.
If one of her daughters ever had children with a Bellini descendant, the trust would transfer to those children—not because of some obsession with bloodlines, but because she believed such a marriage might finally unite families that had spent generations fighting.
But there was another clause.
The children didn't automatically receive billions at eighteen.
Control passed first to their parents jointly.
Only if those parents remained willingly connected.
Not necessarily married.
Not necessarily romantic.
But cooperating freely.
If coercion, fraud, or manipulation was proven, the existing trustees lost authority immediately.
Victor hadn't only needed to keep us separated.
He needed us hostile.
Our hatred was protecting his position.
I lowered the letter.
"So all we have to do is work together."
Marco almost laughed.
"Apparently your mother had a strange sense of humor."
"She met you."
"Fair."
The letter also contained instructions for transferring control to an independent charitable foundation if Marco and I decided the wealth would endanger our children.
That changed everything.
We didn't need the money.
We could take away Victor's motive simply by redirecting it.
Or so we thought.
The attack came that afternoon.
Not physical.
Legal.
A woman from child protective services arrived at Teresa's gate accompanied by two police officers.
There had been an anonymous complaint.
Allegations that armed guards surrounded the children.
That they were being hidden from authorities.
That Marco had criminal associations.
Some of that was difficult to deny.
Marco looked at me.
"I'll leave."
The words surprised everyone.
The caseworker frowned.
"Sir?"
"If my presence creates concern, I'll stay somewhere else until your assessment is complete."
No anger.
No threats.
No name-dropping.
Just cooperation.
The Marco I married would have called three judges.
This Marco packed a bag.
Mila watched from the stairs.
"Where are you going?"
He crouched.
"Hotel."
"Why?"
"Grown-up stuff."
She frowned.
"Are you coming back?"
His eyes found mine.
"If Mommy says it's okay."
The trust in that answer mattered.
I nodded.
"You'll come back."
Mila hugged him.
It lasted perhaps four seconds.
Marco closed his eyes.
I could see him memorizing every second.
When he left, the caseworker noticed.
So did I.
The investigation ended quickly.
The children were healthy.
Safe.
Attached to me.
No evidence supported removal.
But the complaint had served its purpose.
Reporters had another story.
BELLINI TWINS SUBJECT OF CHILD WELFARE INVESTIGATION.
The pressure increased.
My father's attorneys urged me to settle the trust issue privately.
Victor's lawyers denied wrongdoing.
Sofia remained in custody.
And then someone leaked the DNA report.
My children's private medical information appeared online.
That was the moment I stopped being afraid.
Anger can burn.
But a mother's anger can freeze.
I called Rachel.
"I want to redirect the trust."
"All of it?"
"Everything we legally can."
"To where?"
"A foundation."
"For what purpose?"
I looked at the twins.
"Children who've been caught in family crises. Housing. Legal aid. Emergency care."
Rachel was silent.
"That's billions of dollars."
"Money caused this."
"Money didn't cause it. People did."
"I know."
I looked toward the window.
"But I'm not letting those people use my children as an excuse to control it."
Marco arrived an hour later after Rachel called him.
"You sure?"
"Are you?"
"It was never mine."
"It technically might be."
"I don't care."
I stared.
"Two-point-eight billion dollars."
"Elena."
"Yes?"
"I own more suits than any sane person needs."
I almost smiled.
He continued.
"I have enough."
That simple answer destroyed another assumption I'd carried about him.
Marco had lived surrounded by wealth.
But he didn't worship it.
Maybe that was why his uncle feared him.
We signed preliminary instructions.
Once the court recognized fraud and removed Victor as trustee, most assets would transfer into the Caroline Foundation.
A protected portion would remain for Mila and Leo, but control would be delayed until adulthood.
No empire.
No throne.
No children turned into symbols.
That evening, the twins video-called Marco from Teresa's kitchen.
Mila held up a paper drawing.
Four stick figures.
Me.
Leo.
Mila.
Marco.
He stared.
"Who's the tall one?"
"You."
"Why are my arms purple?"
"Because I like purple."
"Reasonable."
Leo leaned into the camera.
"We bought you dinosaur pajamas."
Marco looked at me.
"You allowed this?"
"No."
Teresa called from behind us, "I paid."
Marco sighed.
His family was changing without asking permission.
Maybe that was good.
Later, when the children were asleep, my phone rang.
Victor.
I almost didn't answer.
Then I did.
"You've made a mistake," he said.
"Which one?"
"The foundation."
"So you heard."
"You think giving away billions makes you noble?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"Because I want you to lose."
Silence.
It felt good.
He recovered.
"You still don't understand your husband."
"I'm learning."
"Ask him what he did after he found Greer."
"I already did."
"Did he tell you about the second man?"
I frowned.
"What second man?"
Victor laughed softly.
"Of course not."
"Who?"
"The investigator who found you eleven months after you disappeared."
My heart stopped.
"Nobody found me."
"One of Marco's men did."
"No."
"Oh, yes."
"You're lying."
"Ask him."
The call ended.
I immediately called Marco.
He answered on the first ring.
"Everything okay?"
"Did someone find me eleven months after I left?"
Silence.
My stomach dropped.
"Marco."
"Yes."
One word.
It hurt like the bedroom all over again.
"Who?"
"A private investigator."
"And you knew where I was?"
"Not exactly."
"Stop."
I was shaking.
"He found a hospital record under Elena Wells after the twins were born."
My breath caught.
"So you knew I had children?"
"No. The record didn't list them."
"You knew I was alive."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you come?"
Marco's voice sounded broken.
"Because the investigator died before he could tell me where."
I stopped.
"What?"
"Car accident."
A familiar phrase.
The same way my mother had died.
My anger shifted into dread.
"Who was he?"
"Thomas Reed."
I wrote the name.
"When did he die?"
"Three days after contacting me."
"And his files?"
"Missing."
"Did you investigate?"
"For two years."
"Nothing?"
"One thing."
"What?"
"He made one call before the crash."
"To who?"
Marco hesitated.
"Your father."
My heart sank.
Anthony again.
But before I could respond, another call appeared.
My father.
I merged it.
"Dad?"
"Elena, listen to me."
"Did Thomas Reed call you?"
Silence.
"Yes."
Marco heard.
"What did he tell you?" I demanded.
My father's voice became thin.
"That he'd found you."
"And?"
"I told him not to tell Marco."
I couldn't speak.
Marco couldn't either.
"Why?"
"Because Victor had threatened Sofia."
I closed my eyes.
"It was always another excuse."
"No. Elena, he said if Marco reached you, he'd reveal the twins and challenge the trust."
"You knew about the twins?"
"By then, yes."
The betrayal was enormous.
"You knew you had grandchildren."
"Yes."
"And you left us alone."
"I sent money."
"I never received money."
Silence.
Another manipulation.
My father whispered, "Then Victor intercepted it."
I laughed.
"You all keep blaming Victor for choices you made yourselves."
No answer.
I continued.
"Thomas Reed died."
"I know."
"Because of you?"
"No."
"Because of Victor?"
"I believe so."
Believe.
Always believe.
Never proof.
Then my father said something that made my skin go cold.
"Thomas left a copy of his investigation."
"Where?"
"He mailed it before he died."
"To who?"
My father paused.
"Your sister."
Sofia had possessed evidence of my location two years before she claimed to know about the twins.
Another lie.
I ended the call.
Then stared into the dark room.
Sofia had confessed to so much.
Why hide this?
The next morning, Rachel obtained permission for me to visit her.
Sofia entered the interview room.
I placed Thomas Reed's name on the table.
Her face changed.
Immediately.
"You knew."
She closed her eyes.
"Yes."
"You knew where I was?"
"Not exactly."
"Did you know I had the twins?"
Tears filled her eyes.
"Yes."
My hands went numb.
"For how long?"
"Two years."
I stood.
"Elena—"
"Two years!"
"I thought you were safe."
"You stole their father from them for two more years."
"I was afraid."
"So was I!"
She cried.
"I know."
"No, you don't."
Then Sofia said:
"Thomas Reed didn't die in an accident."
I stopped.
"What?"
"He was murdered."
The room became silent.
"And I know who ordered it."
I stared at my sister.
"Victor?"
She shook her head.
"No."
My blood ran cold.
"Then who?"
Sofia looked at me with tears streaming down her face.
May you like
"Our father."
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