Chapter 9 - Someone Inside the House Was Lying
Carlo Moretti arrived at the estate Sunday afternoon carrying flowers.
He kissed Sophie’s forehead.
Praised her improvement.
Complimented Mia’s lion.
And lied to Lorenzo’s face for forty-three uninterrupted minutes.
Lorenzo let him.
That was the most difficult part.
Carlo sat in the library beneath a portrait of Lorenzo’s grandfather and discussed family business while Marco listened from the corner.
“You look tired,” Carlo said.
“So do you.”
“At my age it’s permitted.”
Lorenzo poured coffee.
“Bellhaven Holdings.”
Carlo’s hand stopped for less than half a second.
“Your company.”
“One of many.”
“Daniel Cross received money from it.”
Carlo smiled.
“Who?”
“Sophie’s doctor’s former assistant.”
“Should I know him?”
“You paid him.”
“I pay thousands of people.”
“Personally?”
Carlo leaned back.
“Careful, Lorenzo.”
“Why?”
“Because grief has made you suspicious.”
Lorenzo’s expression hardened.
“Grief made me patient.”
Carlo’s smile disappeared.
Marco placed copies of the transfers on the table.
Carlo examined them.
“Forgery.”
“Perhaps.”
“It is.”
“Then you’ll have no objection to an audit.”
Carlo’s gaze lifted.
“Of family accounts?”
“Of everything.”
“You don’t have the authority.”
Lorenzo smiled without warmth.
“Test me.”
For the first time, Carlo looked genuinely angry.
“This is because of the girl?”
Lorenzo’s blood chilled.
“What girl?”
“The maid’s child.”
Marco’s posture changed.
Lorenzo remained still.
“How do you know about her?”
Carlo realized his mistake.
News had not left the inner household.
No photographs.
No public information.
Nothing.
Lorenzo leaned forward.
“How do you know?”
Carlo recovered quickly.
“People talk.”
“Which people?”
Silence.
Lorenzo understood.
Not everything.
Enough.
Carlo stood.
“I will not sit here and be accused like a servant.”
“No.”
Lorenzo rose as well.
“You’ll sit here and answer like family.”
Carlo laughed bitterly.
“You’ve become sentimental.”
“My daughter laughed.”
Carlo frowned.
Lorenzo continued.
“Yesterday she played piano.”
“That’s good.”
“You don’t sound pleased.”
“I am.”
“You sound worried.”
Carlo’s expression hardened.
“You’re imagining enemies.”
“No.”
Lorenzo stepped closer.
“I’m finally seeing one.”
Marco moved toward the door.
Carlo noticed.
“What is this?”
“A conversation.”
“Then why is he blocking my exit?”
“Because you haven’t answered.”
Carlo looked at Lorenzo.
The older man’s elegance vanished.
Something underneath it appeared.
Fear.
“You think I harmed Sophie?”
“I think you paid a man who accessed her medical information.”
“You have no proof.”
“I have enough.”
Carlo’s jaw tightened.
“She was never supposed to be hurt.”
The room went silent.
Lorenzo felt every muscle in his body lock.
Marco stared.
Carlo realized what he had admitted.
Lorenzo spoke very slowly.
“What was supposed to happen?”
Carlo said nothing.
“What.”
“Was.”
“Supposed.”
“To happen?”
Carlo sank back into the chair.
“Delay.”
Lorenzo’s hands curled.
“What delay?”
“Legal control.”
“Of Sophie’s trust.”
Carlo looked away.
“Your judgment had become unpredictable after Isabella died.”
“So you interfered with my daughter’s treatment?”
“No.”
“I paid Cross for information.”
“Why?”
“To understand the prognosis.”
“You could have asked me.”
“You would have refused.”
“Yes.”
“Exactly.”
Carlo’s tone sharpened.
“The holdings connected to Sophie are too important.”
“She is five.”
“She is an heir.”
“She is my daughter.”
Carlo looked at him with something approaching pity.
“That is your weakness.”
The sentence sounded exactly like Lorenzo’s father.
Something broke.
Not violently.
Quietly.
A final loyalty.
A final excuse.
Lorenzo walked to the door.
“You are finished.”
Carlo laughed.
“You cannot remove me.”
“From the family? Maybe not.”
Lorenzo opened the door.
“From every company, trust, board, property, and account I control?”
He looked back.
“Watch me.”
Carlo stood.
“You think those documents prove anything?”
“No.”
Lorenzo’s gaze sharpened.
“But you just did.”
Carlo’s face changed.
Marco’s phone had been recording the conversation.
Carlo saw it.
His shoulders dropped.
Lorenzo expected satisfaction.
He felt none.
Only exhaustion.
Carlo walked toward the doorway.
Before leaving, he said:
“You’re destroying decades of family structure over emotion.”
Lorenzo looked toward the upstairs floor where Sophie was playing.
“No.”
He answered quietly.
“I’m destroying it because it taught me emotion was something to be ashamed of.”
Carlo left.
That night, Lorenzo told Sophie none of the details.
He simply said Uncle Carlo would not be visiting for a while.
“Why?”
“Because he made choices that hurt people.”
“Me?”
Lorenzo paused.
“Yes.”
Sophie thought.
“Does he hate me?”
“No.”
That, strangely, Lorenzo believed.
Carlo’s actions had not come from hatred.
They came from something perhaps more dangerous.
The belief that Sophie’s life mattered less than the power attached to her name.
“No,” Lorenzo repeated. “He forgot what matters.”
Mia climbed onto Sophie’s bed.
“I know what matters.”
Sophie looked at her.
“What?”
“Pancakes.”
Sophie burst out laughing.
Lorenzo smiled.
Then Marco appeared at the doorway.
The look on his face told Lorenzo the problem was not over.
“What?”
“Daniel Cross is missing.”
“When?”
“His apartment was empty when our people arrived.”
“Voluntary?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
Lorenzo’s face hardened.
Marco continued.
“And somebody accessed Bellhaven’s archived email server ten minutes ago.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“From where?”
Marco looked toward the dark windows.
“Inside this estate.”
The betrayal had not ended with Carlo.
Someone else remained inside Lorenzo’s house.
May you like
Someone who knew they were running out of time.
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