Chapter 6 - The Rule Lorenzo Broke for His Daughter
The Moretti organization had survived for decades because Lorenzo followed one principle his father taught him before he was old enough to understand it.
Never let strangers see weakness.
Lorenzo had spent most of his life obeying that rule.
Then Sophie became sick.
And every day since had taught him that his father had been wrong.
Sometimes hiding weakness did not protect you.
Sometimes it protected the person exploiting it.
By noon, Lorenzo had summoned two independent physicians, a toxicology specialist, and a pharmacist who had never worked with Dr. Hale.
He gave them every medication Sophie had received for eight months.
He also gave them Isabella’s letter.
The results would take time.
Lorenzo hated time.
At three, Marco entered his study carrying security photographs.
“Daniel Cross.”
He placed one on the desk.
Thirty-two.
Thin.
Brown hair.
Glasses.
Ordinary.
Lorenzo stared.
“Is Sophie likely to recognize him?”
“Possibly.”
“No.”
Marco frowned.
“No?”
“I’m not putting photographs in front of her.”
“You need confirmation.”
“She’s five.”
Marco leaned back.
“Since when has that stopped you from getting answers?”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“Since yesterday.”
Marco’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.
The change in Lorenzo was becoming difficult to miss.
There had once been a time when Lorenzo believed protecting Sophie meant controlling every variable around her.
Now a three-year-old had wandered into the most controlled room in the estate and helped Sophie more than any system he had built.
Control, apparently, was not the same thing as safety.
A knock interrupted them.
Elena entered.
“Sorry.”
“What happened?”
“Sophie asked for you.”
Lorenzo rose immediately.
Marco watched him leave.
Sophie sat beside the windows.
It was the first time she had left the bed voluntarily in weeks.
A blanket covered her legs.
Mia sat on the carpet, attempting to stack wooden blocks on Bartholomew’s head.
Sophie pointed.
“Daddy, look.”
Lorenzo crouched.
“That lion appears humiliated.”
Mia shook her head.
“He likes it.”
“I stand corrected.”
Sophie giggled.
Then she became serious.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Can Mia eat dinner here?”
Lorenzo looked at Elena.
Elena lifted her eyebrows.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether Mr. Moretti intends to feed her chocolate cake again.”
Lorenzo looked offended.
“It was one piece.”
“It was larger than her head.”
Mia shouted, “Cake!”
Sophie laughed.
Lorenzo felt Marco appear behind him.
For two seconds everything seemed almost normal.
Then Marco quietly said, “We need a word.”
Lorenzo followed him into the hallway.
“What?”
“We found Cross.”
“Where?”
“New York.”
“Bring him.”
Marco hesitated.
“He’s scared.”
“Good.”
“Not of us.”
Lorenzo stopped.
“Who?”
“He says someone paid him to copy Sophie’s medical records.”
“Name?”
“He won’t give one by phone.”
“Then he can give it here.”
“He refuses to come.”
Lorenzo’s expression became familiar again.
Marco raised one hand.
“Before you decide anything, he claims he has evidence.”
“What kind?”
“Emails. Payment records.”
“Then arrange a meeting.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
Marco stared.
“You haven’t left Sophie overnight in months.”
“I won’t.”
“We can go and return tonight.”
Lorenzo glanced toward the bedroom.
“No.”
“Lorenzo—”
“No.”
Marco waited.
“We bring Cross somewhere neutral.”
“He won’t come near Massachusetts.”
“Then video.”
“He says no electronics.”
Lorenzo almost laughed.
“Paranoid.”
“Probably with reason.”
A voice behind them interrupted.
“Daddy.”
Sophie had heard enough to know something was happening.
Lorenzo turned.
She stood unsteadily at the doorway.
The nurse reached for her.
Sophie pulled away.
“I want to know.”
Lorenzo approached.
“What?”
“What’s wrong.”
“Nothing.”
Sophie frowned.
Even five-year-olds recognized lies.
“Something is.”
Lorenzo crouched.
“There may have been a mistake with some of your medicine.”
Her eyes widened.
“Bad medicine?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Did I do something?”
“No.”
The question shattered him.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Then why are you whispering?”
Lorenzo had no answer.
Sophie looked toward Mia.
Then back at him.
“I hate whispering.”
It was the first time she had expressed anger in months.
Lorenzo recognized something important in it.
Life.
“I do too,” he said.
Sophie crossed her arms.
“Then stop.”
Elena tried not to smile.
Lorenzo exhaled.
“All right.”
He helped Sophie back to the chair.
Then he did something that would have horrified his father.
He told his daughter the truth.
Not every detail.
But enough.
“Some records don’t match. I’m checking them because I want to make sure the medicine you received was exactly what your doctors intended.”
“Did somebody mess it up?”
“Maybe.”
“Are they in trouble?”
Lorenzo glanced at Marco.
“Probably.”
Elena coughed.
Lorenzo corrected himself.
“They will be held responsible.”
Sophie nodded solemnly.
Then Mia offered her a block.
The crisis ended as quickly as it began.
Later that evening, Elena found Lorenzo alone near the gallery windows.
“You did well.”
He looked at her.
“At what?”
“Telling her.”
“My father would disagree.”
“Then maybe your father was wrong.”
Few people had ever said that to Lorenzo.
Fewer survived saying it casually.
Instead of anger, he felt something unexpectedly close to relief.
“He was wrong about many things.”
Elena leaned against the wall.
“Parents usually are.”
He studied her.
“You?”
“Constantly.”
“Mia seems fine.”
“She ate toothpaste last month.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Why?”
“She said it smelled clean.”
Against his will, he laughed.
A real laugh.
Elena looked surprised.
So did Lorenzo.
From Sophie’s room came another burst of laughter.
For several seconds the mansion sounded unlike itself.
Then Marco appeared at the far end of the hall.
His expression ended the moment.
“Cross sent something.”
He handed Lorenzo an envelope delivered by courier.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a handwritten message.
If something happens to me, ask who benefited from keeping Sophie sick.
Lorenzo read it twice.
Then looked toward the room where his daughter was laughing.
Somebody had benefited.
He did not yet know who.
But he was beginning to understand the shape of the betrayal.
May you like
And it had started long before Mia walked through the wrong door.
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