Chapter 8 - Bianca’s Message
Bianca finally called Alessandro directly.
No disguise.
No intermediary.
No hesitation.
“I have Rachel.”
Her voice came through the speaker.
Smooth.
Almost cheerful.
“Let her go.”
“Why?”
“She betrayed you.”
“She betrayed everyone.”
Bianca laughed.
“Then perhaps we finally agree.”
I sat across from Alessandro in the secure conference room.
Police recorded everything.
“What do you want?”
He asked.
“The ledger.”
“Which one?”
“Isabella’s.”
“The original.”
Alessandro looked toward the detective.
“Why?”
“Because it contains things that should remain buried.”
“Murder?”
“History.”
“Same thing in this family.”
Bianca ignored that.
“And I want Sofia.”
Alessandro’s face changed.
“No.”
“Then Rachel dies.”
“Why Sofia?”
“She has something that belongs to me.”
Sofia sat in another room.
Listening.
She looked confused.
“What?”
Alessandro asked.
Bianca answered:
“My mother’s shares.”
Caterina’s?
No.
Isabella’s.
The hidden daughter complicated succession more than we understood.
Before Isabella died, she had secretly amended a private trust.
A portion of her shares would transfer to Sofia if Sofia ever publicly established maternity.
Not Alessandro.
Not Bianca.
Sofia.
Isabella had tried to protect the daughter she could not publicly acknowledge.
Caterina knew.
Bianca eventually learned.
That was why Sofia had been threatened.
Not merely because she knew about toxicology.
She was a financial threat.
“Where is Rachel?”
Alessandro asked.
“Safe.”
“For now.”
“Proof.”
A video arrived.
Rachel tied to a chair.
Bruised.
Alive.
Behind her was exposed brick.
Old industrial lighting.
Not enough.
Then I noticed a sound.
A bell.
Three slow chimes.
Then two quick.
I knew it.
Not church bells.
A harbor warning bell from Pier 28.
My foundation had held an event nearby.
I wrote on paper.
RED HOOK.
Marco saw.
Detectives began narrowing.
Bianca continued.
“Bring the ledger and Sofia.”
“No.”
“Alessandro.”
“You know me better.”
“I do.”
“That’s why you’ll come.”
“Why?”
“Because Elena will make you.”
My skin went cold.
Bianca knew me too.
Or believed she did.
I leaned toward the phone.
“No.”
Silence.
Then Bianca laughed.
“Elena.”
“Hello, Bianca.”
“You survived.”
“Disappointing?”
“Inconvenient.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“You should have stayed away from him.”
“People keep telling me that.”
“You don’t understand this family.”
“I understand enough.”
“No.”
Her voice hardened.
“You think Alessandro protects people.”
“You don’t know what he is.”
I looked at him.
“That may be the first true thing you’ve said.”
His expression shifted.
I continued.
“But whatever Alessandro has done does not make you less responsible for what you’ve done.”
“You think this is about morality?”
“No.”
“It’s about control.”
Silence.
Good.
I had touched something.
“Your mother was always second to Isabella.”
“Bianca was second to Alessandro.”
“You were raised beside a throne someone told you should be yours.”
“You built your entire life around taking it.”
Bianca’s breathing changed.
“You know nothing.”
“I know enough to recognize resentment.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“I also know you wore my clothes because you wanted me blamed if Emma’s warning became public.”
“That’s clever.”
“Did you?”
“No answer.
“You wanted Alessandro to think I poisoned him.”
Still silence.
That was the deeper plan.
Not merely kill Alessandro.
Frame me.
If he survived, destroy trust.
If he died, I became suspect.
Either outcome fractured the Moretti structure.
“Rachel ruined it.”
Bianca said.
“Emma ruined it.”
I corrected.
The line went dead.
Seven minutes later, the police had a location.
An abandoned cold-storage building near Red Hook.
Teams moved.
Alessandro wanted to go.
Police refused.
He went anyway.
Of course.
I stayed.
This time because there was nothing useful I could do except make everyone more distracted.
The raid lasted twelve minutes.
Rachel was recovered alive.
Two armed men were arrested.
Bianca was gone.
Again.
But she left something.
A coffin.
Black.
Expensive.
Inside it lay a white card.
June 14.
Underneath:
ONE MORE FUNERAL.
That night, Rachel was brought to the hospital.
I did not know whether to hug her or hit her.
So I did neither.
She looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I lied to you for four years.”
“Yes.”
“Some of it became real.”
I hated that sentence.
Because I believed it.
“You cared about me.”
“Yes.”
“You still used me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew things.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you stay?”
Rachel looked toward the window.
“Because my father told me the Morettis destroy everyone they love.”
“And?”
“I wanted to see if he was right.”
My throat tightened.
“What did you decide?”
She looked at Alessandro.
Then at me.
“That sometimes they do.”
Alessandro accepted the blow without reacting.
“But not always.”
Rachel continued.
“Sometimes people choose differently.”
She gave investigators everything.
Passwords.
Addresses.
Vittorio’s hidden accounts.
Bianca’s safe houses.
Most importantly, an audio archive.
Vittorio had recorded meetings.
One recording captured Isabella confronting him.
“You turned my sister against me.”
Vittorio laughed.
“Your sister already resented you.”
“You used Bianca.”
“Bianca wanted to be used.”
Then Isabella said:
“If Alessandro learns what you’ve done, he’ll kill you.”
Vittorio replied:
“Not if I bury him first.”
The recording ended.
But another began.
Caterina.
Her voice.
“Isabella cannot sign the new trust.”
Vittorio:
“Then stop her.”
Caterina:
“I said stop her.”
Vittorio:
“You never say the ugly word.”
Caterina:
“And you enjoy it too much.”
Silence.
Then Caterina said:
“Do what is necessary.”
Alessandro closed his eyes.
His aunt had not personally poisoned Isabella.
But she had given permission.
That was enough.
The next morning, police went to arrest Caterina.
Her house was empty.
On the dining table were two teacups.
Still warm.
One belonged to Caterina.
The other held Bianca’s lipstick.
May you like
Mother and daughter had reunited.
And June fourteenth was now thirteen days away.
