Chapter 3 - ISABELLA’S LIE
Elena read the message twice.
Then a third time.
Her stomach turned.
“No.”
She backed away.
“No. No, this is crazy.”
Aleandro locked the phone.
“I wish it were.”
“My mother’s accident happened two years ago.”
“Apparently someone believes it wasn’t enough.”
“She lost control in the rain.”
“Did you see the police report?”
“Yes.”
“The full report?”
Elena hesitated.
“I saw what the insurance company gave me.”
Aleandro looked at Marco.
“Get everything.”
Marco stepped away.
Elena grabbed Aleandro’s sleeve.
“You don’t get to order people around and expect me to trust you.”
“No.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
He looked at her hand gripping his jacket.
Slowly, she released him.
Aleandro walked toward a steel cabinet and poured two fingers of whiskey.
It was barely nine in the morning.
He didn’t drink it.
He simply stared into the glass.
“I met Isabella when I was twenty-two,” he said. “She was working at a bakery in Brooklyn.”
Elena almost laughed.
“My mother couldn’t bake when she was young. She told me she learned later.”
“That sounds like her.”
For the first time, Aleandro smiled.
It disappeared quickly.
“She hated me at first.”
“Smart woman.”
His eyes flicked toward Elena.
“You sound like her too.”
“Keep talking.”
“She knew what my family was. She wanted nothing to do with us. I kept showing up anyway.”
“That sounds like harassment.”
“Back then I called it romance.”
“Of course you did.”
Another faint smile.
Then his face darkened.
“My father, Vittorio Moretti, controlled everything. Shipping. Construction. Gambling. Half the unions on the East Coast.”
“And murder?”
Aleandro met her eyes.
“Yes.”
The blunt answer unsettled her.
“He wanted me married to another family. Isabella was unacceptable.”
“So she left.”
“That’s what I believed.”
“But?”
Aleandro stared into the whiskey.
“The night before she vanished, she came to me terrified. She said she had discovered records proving my father was stealing money from his own partners.”
“That sounds like his problem.”
“It became hers when she copied the records.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Mom…”
“She said she needed insurance. Something that would stop Vittorio from hurting her.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“I told her to stay in my apartment while I confronted him.”
Elena stared at him.
“You left a pregnant woman alone after she told you your murdering father wanted her dead?”
Aleandro’s jaw clenched.
“I was twenty-four.”
“You were stupid.”
“Yes.”
The admission stopped her.
Aleandro finally drank.
“When I returned, she was gone. There was blood in the apartment.”
Elena’s face went cold.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“And you assumed she died?”
“My father told me she had.”
“You believed him?”
“No. But I spent three years looking.”
“Then what?”
“My father died.”
“How?”
Aleandro’s expression became empty.
“Bad night.”
Elena didn’t ask.
She already knew.
Marco returned with a tablet.
“I found the crash report.”
He placed it on the table.
“Single vehicle. Wet highway. Brake failure listed as possible mechanical cause.”
Aleandro’s eyes narrowed.
“Possible?”
Marco swiped.
“The car was destroyed before an independent inspection.”
“By who?”
“A salvage company in Queens.”
Aleandro looked up.
Marco continued.
“Owned through three shells.”
“Final owner?”
Marco hesitated.
“Bellano Holdings.”
Aleandro’s face hardened.
Elena looked between them.
“What?”
Marco spoke carefully.
“Bellano Holdings belongs to Carlo Vescari.”
The name meant nothing to Elena.
But it clearly meant something to Aleandro.
“Who is he?”
Aleandro set the glass down.
“My uncle.”
“And?”
“The man who took over my father’s closest crew after Vittorio died.”
Elena looked at Sofia.
Her daughter was sitting on the couch, quietly drawing.
“Why would your uncle care about my mother?”
Aleandro walked toward Sofia.
This time he crouched several feet away.
“Sofia?”
The girl looked up.
“Yes?”
“Did your grandma ever give your mommy anything besides that necklace?”
Sofia thought hard.
Then nodded.
“A box.”
Elena frowned.
“What box?”
“The blue one.”
“What blue one?”
“At Grandma’s old house.”
Elena’s pulse quickened.
“That house was sold.”
Sofia shook her head.
“No. The secret blue box.”
Aleandro’s eyes met Elena’s.
“What is she talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
Sofia climbed down from the couch.
“Grandma showed me.”
“When?”
“Before heaven.”
Elena’s throat closed.
Shortly before Isabella died.
Sofia reached into the pocket of her little jeans.
“I have the key.”
She opened her hand.
May you like
A tiny brass key sat in her palm.
Aleandro went white.
