Chapter 12 - A Father’s Choice
The discovery felt impossible.
Daniel Mercer had given Camille her first major New York exhibition.
His wife had watched Sophie.
He had arranged their travel.
His gallery account had been used to alter the airline seats.
For days they assumed Isabella’s nephew alone had manipulated those bookings.
Now records showed another authorization had come from Mercer’s office.
“Daniel helped put Sophie beside me,” Alessandro said.
Camille shook her head.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Daniel didn’t know you.”
“Apparently he knew enough.”
“He believed your last name was Vale.”
Alessandro frowned.
Camille explained.
When she first contacted Mercer, she had deliberately avoided discussing Sophie’s father.
Even after Daniel learned bits of her past, she never told him Alessandro’s identity.
Unless he had known already.
They called Mercer.
No answer.
His wife answered separately.
Daniel had left for Paris two days earlier.
Business trip.
Camille sat slowly.
“The same day the painting disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“You think he stole it?”
“I think we ask before assuming.”
Camille looked almost amused.
“You really are changing.”
“Don’t sound surprised.”
“I’m terrified.”
By evening, Matteo confirmed Mercer had landed in Paris and traveled directly to a private apartment owned by an offshore company.
The beneficial owner traced back through several shells to—
Paolo Ricci.
A dead man again.
“This is becoming absurd,” Camille said.
“Paolo created structures before his death,” Alessandro replied.
“Or he isn’t dead either.”
Matteo shook his head.
“I saw Paolo’s body.”
Marco added, “So did I.”
Camille looked between them.
“I have learned not to find that reassuring.”
Alessandro arranged an encrypted call with Mercer.
This time Mercer answered.
His face appeared on screen.
He looked exhausted.
“Camille.”
“Daniel, what did you do?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Did you take Blue House?”
“Yes.”
Camille closed her eyes.
“Why?”
“To keep Vittorio from getting it.”
Alessandro leaned into view.
Mercer’s face tightened.
“Mr. Vitali.”
“You know who I am.”
“I always did.”
Camille stared.
“You lied to me.”
“I protected a confidence.”
“Whose?”
“Giancarlo’s.”
Alessandro became still.
Mercer continued.
“Your father approached me before he died.”
“Why you?”
“Because galleries move objects internationally without attracting the same attention as financial couriers.”
Camille looked horrified.
“My paintings?”
“Never without permission except this once.”
“This once is enough.”
“I know.”
Mercer held up the Blue House canvas behind him.
“I have the key.”
“Bring it back,” Alessandro said.
“No.”
“Daniel,” Camille warned.
Mercer looked directly at Alessandro.
“Your father left instructions. The archive should only be opened after you made a particular choice.”
“What choice?”
“Whether to preserve the Vitali organization or expose it.”
Alessandro almost laughed.
“My dead father created a morality test?”
“In a way.”
“He had no right.”
“No.”
Mercer surprised him by agreeing.
“But he had power and guilt. People with both tend to create complicated plans.”
“What exactly did he tell you?”
Mercer reached for an envelope.
“He said if Camille ever returned to New York and Alessandro discovered Sophie naturally, I was to facilitate access to the archive.”
Alessandro frowned.
“Why naturally?”
“Because Giancarlo believed if someone simply told you, your first response would be vengeance.”
Alessandro thought about it.
Six years ago, yes.
Maybe even six months ago.
“And now?”
Mercer looked at Camille.
“Now I need to know what you intend to do.”
Alessandro’s voice cooled.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“No. Sophie does.”
Camille stiffened.
“Do not involve her.”
“I don’t mean literally.”
Mercer leaned toward the camera.
“I mean your decision should be based on what kind of world you want that child to inherit.”
Alessandro’s anger faded.
Again Sophie stood at the center.
Not as leverage.
As a measure.
That evening Alessandro called the board of Vitali Holdings.
For the first time in company history, he announced his intention to commission a complete independent forensic audit of every subsidiary going back fifteen years.
Several directors objected.
Vittorio joined remotely.
His face appeared calm.
“Nephew, this seems excessive.”
Alessandro watched him.
“Does it?”
“You’ll disrupt legitimate businesses over old rumors.”
“What rumors?”
Vittorio smiled faintly.
“I assume there are rumors, or you wouldn’t be doing this.”
“Perhaps I’m just becoming responsible.”
“Responsibility is not usually something men discover at thirty-nine.”
“Father discovered guilt much later.”
The smile vanished.
There.
Alessandro knew he had struck something.
After the meeting Vittorio called privately.
“You’ve seen Paolo’s files.”
Alessandro did not answer.
“Be careful.”
“With what?”
“Truth.”
“Everyone keeps warning me about truth lately.”
“Because you’re treating it like it has no consequences.”
“It already had consequences.”
Alessandro looked toward Sophie, who was drawing at the other end of the room.
“Six years of them.”
Vittorio saw where he was looking.
His expression changed.
“So it’s true.”
Alessandro’s blood cooled.
“What?”
“The child.”
Vittorio’s voice became quieter.
“She looks like you.”
Camille overheard from across the room.
Alessandro turned the phone slightly away from Sophie.
“You knew exactly who she was.”
“I knew Camille was pregnant.”
“You intercepted her letters.”
“Yes.”
No denial.
“You forged mine.”
“Yes.”
Camille stopped moving.
Alessandro’s voice remained frighteningly calm.
“Why?”
“To save what your father built.”
“You nearly killed me.”
“That was never the plan.”
“Convenient.”
“You were reckless. Marco was reckless. Giancarlo was weak where family was concerned.”
“And you?”
“I was practical.”
Vittorio looked tired rather than evil.
That made him worse.
“I knew if you discovered the child while recovering, you would tear apart everything looking for Camille. Our enemies would see the instability. The board would split.”
“So you stole six years.”
“I gave you six years to become what the family needed.”
Alessandro looked at Sophie again.
“No.”
He finally understood.
“You gave yourself six years.”
Vittorio’s eyes hardened.
“Think carefully before opening that archive.”
“I have.”
“If you give it to prosecutors, it will not stop with me.”
“I know.”
“You’ll lose businesses.”
“I know.”
“Friends.”
“I know.”
“Your freedom, possibly.”
Camille looked at Alessandro.
This was the real choice.
Vittorio leaned closer to the camera.
“Do you want your daughter’s first memory of her father to be watching him walk into a courtroom?”
Alessandro’s expression changed.
The blow landed.
Vittorio saw it.
Then Sophie called from across the room.
“Alessandro?”
He turned.
She held up a drawing.
Three figures stood beside an airplane.
“You forgot your tie.”
For the first time Vittorio saw Sophie clearly.
His face softened with something almost human.
Alessandro noticed.
Then Vittorio whispered, “She has Giancarlo’s eyes.”
“No,” Alessandro replied.
“She has her own.”
He ended the call.
Camille approached.
“What are you going to do?”
Alessandro looked at her.
“The first honest thing this family has done in a long time.”
He called his attorney.
“Prepare voluntary disclosure documents.”
Camille’s eyes widened.
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
That mattered.
He was not fearless.
He was choosing despite fear.
“But I promised Sophie I wouldn’t disappear.”
He looked toward his daughter.
“So before anyone else decides where I go, I’m going to make sure I deserve to stay.”
The next morning Daniel Mercer flew back from Paris carrying the Blue House key.
And within hours, the Vitali archive would finally open.
What none of them knew was that Vittorio had already activated his final defense.
At 6:03 a.m., confidential photographs of Alessandro, Camille and Sophie appeared in the inbox of one of New York’s largest newspapers.
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By breakfast, the secret daughter of Alessandro Vitali was no longer a secret.
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