Chapter 7 - What Isabella Left Behind
The flash drive contained forty-seven files.
Marco opened them on an isolated computer in Lorenzo’s study.
Emails.
Invoices.
Medical notes.
Scanned documents.
The oldest entry was dated three weeks before Sophie’s diagnosis.
Lorenzo stood behind Marco.
“Open that one.”
A document appeared.
Patient: S.M.
The doctor’s name had been removed.
The symptoms matched Sophie.
Fatigue.
Episodes of confusion.
Muscle weakness.
Speech disruption.
But at the bottom, a line had been highlighted.
Family history unavailable. Differential diagnosis incomplete.
Lorenzo felt sick.
Isabella’s letter sat nearby.
The family history had not been unavailable.
It had been hidden.
First by Isabella out of fear.
Then, apparently, by someone else after her death.
Marco opened another file.
A payment ledger.
Daniel Cross had received six transfers.
Each from a consulting company.
Lorenzo recognized the company.
“Bellhaven.”
Marco nodded.
Bellhaven Holdings was controlled by Lorenzo’s uncle, Carlo Moretti.
Carlo was seventy.
Old-school.
Elegant.
And had spent most of Lorenzo’s childhood reminding him that family power belonged to healthy men.
Lorenzo sat slowly.
“No.”
Marco said nothing.
“Uncle Carlo?”
“Maybe someone using his company.”
“Do not protect me from the obvious.”
“I’m not.”
Lorenzo stared at the screen.
Carlo had adored Sophie publicly.
Birthday gifts.
Christmas calls.
Flowers during hospitalizations.
But Carlo had also argued relentlessly that Lorenzo needed a son.
An heir.
A continuation.
After Isabella died, Carlo had even suggested Lorenzo remarry quickly.
Lorenzo had nearly thrown him out of the house.
“Why keep Sophie sick?”
Marco answered carefully.
“If she were permanently incapacitated, Carlo would have grounds to push for greater control over family trusts.”
Money.
Influence.
Succession.
Lorenzo’s hands curled.
“All because she’s a child.”
“Because she owns something.”
Isabella had left Sophie significant holdings protected until adulthood.
Shares.
Property.
Trust interests.
Lorenzo had barely thought about them.
Carlo apparently had.
Another file revealed communication between Cross and an unidentified account.
Maintain current treatment. Avoid outside specialist review.
Lorenzo’s face went cold.
Marco kept reading.
“Here.”
An email.
The father trusts Hale. No reason to alter that.
Lorenzo looked away.
The sentence humiliated him.
He had thought money bought the best care.
He had thought fear guaranteed obedience.
But someone had used both assumptions against him.
His phone rang.
Elena.
He answered instantly.
“What happened?”
“Mia has a fever.”
Lorenzo’s mind shifted.
“Is she all right?”
“Yes. Probably just a cold. But we won’t come tomorrow.”
A pause.
Then Sophie’s voice sounded faintly in the background.
“Put her on.”
Elena hesitated.
Lorenzo handed the phone to Sophie.
She listened.
Her face fell.
“Mia sick?”
A tiny voice came through.
“I’m warm.”
Sophie nodded seriously.
“I get warm too.”
Mia said something.
Sophie smiled.
“Yes, Bartholomew is okay.”
They talked for several minutes.
Nothing important.
Everything important.
After the call, Sophie looked at Lorenzo.
“Can we bring her soup?”
Lorenzo blinked.
“What?”
“When you’re sick people bring soup.”
He glanced at the nurse.
She nodded.
“That is generally true.”
Sophie sat straighter.
“I want to go.”
Outside.
The estate.
For months she had resisted even crossing the medical-suite threshold.
Now she wanted to leave the mansion.
Because Mia had a fever.
Lorenzo’s first instinct was immediate.
“No.”
Sophie’s face closed.
He saw it happen.
The retreat.
The wall.
Elena’s words came back.
You can protect her without making her feel like she’s in danger every second.
Lorenzo changed course.
“We’ll ask your doctor.”
Sophie looked surprised.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Two hours later, an independent physician approved a short trip if Sophie wore a mask and avoided crowds.
Lorenzo prepared three vehicles and eight security men.
Sophie stared out the window.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Why are there so many cars?”
“Safety.”
She frowned.
“Mia lives ten minutes away.”
Lorenzo looked at Marco.
Marco wisely looked elsewhere.
They reduced the convoy to two cars.
Elena nearly dropped the soup when she opened her apartment door and saw Lorenzo Moretti standing there.
Sophie beside him.
Bartholomew under her arm.
“You came.”
Sophie nodded.
“Mia needs soup.”
Elena looked toward Lorenzo.
He raised the container.
“I was informed this is standard procedure.”
For the next hour, Sophie sat beside Mia on the couch.
They watched cartoons.
Lorenzo stood in a kitchen smaller than his estate’s pantry.
Elena poured him coffee.
“You look uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been staring at the chair for thirty seconds.”
“It appears unstable.”
“It’s from IKEA.”
“That explains nothing.”
She laughed.
He almost did too.
Then Elena noticed the exhaustion on his face.
“What happened?”
He looked toward the living room.
“I learned someone may have interfered with Sophie’s treatment.”
Elena’s smile disappeared.
“Who?”
“Family.”
She went quiet.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
He stared into the coffee.
“I’m angry.”
“That too.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“I should have known.”
“No.”
“I should.”
“You’re her father, not a surveillance camera.”
He almost smiled.
“That metaphor is unfortunate considering recent events.”
Elena winced.
“Fair.”
From the living room, Sophie called.
“Daddy!”
Lorenzo entered.
She held a sheet of paper.
The girls had drawn four people.
Sophie.
Mia.
Elena.
Lorenzo.
Above them, two lions.
“What is it?”
“Our team.”
Mia corrected her.
“Family.”
The word hung in the room.
Elena looked away.
Lorenzo stared at the crude stick figure representing him.
For reasons he could not explain, it frightened him more than any threat.
Because it showed him something he had stopped allowing himself to imagine.
A future not defined by illness.
A house with laughter again.
A life beyond guarding what remained.
Then Sophie picked up a brown crayon.
“My mommy needs to be here too.”
Lorenzo’s throat tightened.
He sat beside her.
“Draw her.”
Sophie did.
And as she added Isabella to the picture, Lorenzo made a decision.
He would go to Maine.
He would find Margaret Ellis.
And he would uncover every secret Isabella had been afraid to tell him while she was alive.
Because somewhere inside those secrets might be the truth about Sophie.
May you like
And somewhere inside that truth might be the chance to finally give his daughter her life back.
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