Chapter 15 - The Night Everything Fell Apart
I confronted Luca in the parking garage.
Probably not my smartest decision.
By then smart decisions had become difficult to identify.
“You were inside our apartment.”
He stared at the photograph.
His face collapsed.
“Where did you get this?”
“Answer me.”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“You took it?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“My father.”
“Why were you there?”
“To move you.”
I laughed.
“Everyone keeps moving us.”
“Elena received a threat.”
“So you broke into our apartment?”
“She gave me a key.”
That stopped me.
“You knew my mother that well?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
Luca looked down.
For one absurd second, I wondered if he was my father.
He saw the thought.
“No.”
“Then explain.”
“I loved her.”
Silence.
“Before Dominic?”
“After.”
My chest tightened.
“Did she love you?”
“Not the way I wanted.”
At least he was honest.
“Elena never stopped loving your father.”
“Then why stay around?”
“Because loving someone does not entitle you to be loved back.”
He looked at the photograph.
“And because I owed her my life.”
His father, Paolo, had discovered Elena’s location several times.
Each time Luca redirected him.
The photograph of us sleeping had been Paolo’s proof.
Luca stole the negatives.
Convinced Renato we had moved.
For years, he played both sides.
“Then why did your credentials send Vivian the security schedules?”
“I gave Marco access.”
“Marco?”
“When Renato resurfaced six months ago, Marco and I started feeding him false schedules.”
I felt sick.
“Why not tell Vincent?”
“Because we believed someone on Vincent’s board was feeding Renato information.”
“Who?”
“We didn’t know.”
Another secret.
Another failed plan.
“What did my mother mean when she said you had the rest of the evidence?”
Luca stared at me.
Then reached into his coat.
A locker key.
“Grand Central.”
“Locker number?”
“317.”
Of course.
He placed it in my hand.
“Everything Elena kept after Vittoria’s ledgers.”
“Why wait?”
“She made me promise.”
“I am developing a violent dislike for promises.”
That almost made him smile.
Then police cars entered the garage.
Not for Luca.
For Vincent.
Federal agents arrived at Belladonna House that evening.
Vincent did not run.
He stood beneath the same chandelier where he had caught Vivian’s riding crop.
Mara was there.
So was I.
An agent read the charges.
Financial conspiracy.
Extortion.
Obstruction.
Several older allegations.
Some I understood.
Some I didn’t.
Vincent held out his hands.
I hated the image.
Not because I believed he was innocent.
Because I realized I cared.
He looked at me before they took him away.
“Do not save me.”
“What?”
“Save Belladonna.”
I almost laughed.
“You’re being arrested and still giving orders.”
“Nora.”
“What?”
His expression softened.
“Your mother would have liked you.”
Then they took him.
By midnight, three board members switched sides.
By morning, six.
Belladonna’s stock fell.
Banks called loans.
News vans surrounded the house.
Renato appeared on television for the first time.
Not hiding.
Standing beside two attorneys.
“I returned because the Moretti family deserves lawful leadership.”
I threw a remote control at the sofa.
It bounced uselessly.
Rosa watched from her chair.
“Feel better?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Vivian disappeared.
Carlo stopped answering.
Marco remained in hospital.
Luca was detained for questioning.
And Eleanor called at 9:06 a.m.
“We lost the temporary injunction.”
“What does that mean?”
“Until tomorrow’s vote, your authority is suspended.”
“So Renato can enter Belladonna?”
“Yes.”
“Can he take the ledgers?”
“We already moved them.”
“Where?”
“I’m not telling you.”
I smiled.
Finally.
Someone using secrecy correctly.
Then Eleanor’s voice softened.
“Nora.”
“What?”
“If the vote goes against us, he controls the company.”
I looked around my small apartment.
I had gone home.
No security.
No marble.
No Moretti anything.
“Maybe he can have it.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother died protecting it.”
“No.”
I finally understood.
“My mother died protecting me.”
Silence.
I continued.
“Everyone keeps confusing the two.”
I hung up.
For the first time since the engagement party, I cried properly.
For my mother.
For a father I never knew.
For Vincent.
For myself.
Then I saw the sewing box.
Still sitting on my table.
I opened it again.
Removed the hidden letter.
The photograph.
The ring.
Nothing new.
Then I noticed the cardboard panel had two layers.
I pulled harder.
A second envelope slid free.
It contained a train-station receipt.
Grand Central.
Locker 317.
And a handwritten note.
If everything else fails, Luca will give you the key.
My breath stopped.
He had.
Below it:
Do not open it for money.
Do not open it for revenge.
Open it only when you are ready to end the family that made it necessary.
I looked at the key in my hand.
Then grabbed my coat.
Inside Locker 317 was not a box.
It was a suitcase.
Inside the suitcase were hundreds of documents.
Photographs.
Audio tapes.
Bank records.
Letters.
And one sealed envelope.
FOR VINCENT.
Beneath it was another.
FOR NORA.
I opened mine.
The first sentence read:
If you have reached this point, Vincent has probably lost his throne.
May you like
The second:
Good.
