The Maid Knew Where His Mother Was Buried—And His Fiancée Knew Why

Luca got out of the SUV alone. He held both hands where Alessandro could see them.

“I came because Victoria left,” he called through the closed front door.

Alessandro didn’t open it. “You said she was upstairs.”

“She was when I called. She went out the rear entrance while we were talking.”

“Then why did you lie?”

“Because I thought you’d turn around and drive straight into whatever she’d set up.”

Mara watched through the curtain. Luca looked exhausted.

“Ask him who stood at the gate,” she said.

Alessandro did.

Luca took a photograph from his pocket and held it up. “His name is Daniel Mercer. He worked for your father. I’ve spent the last hour trying to find him.”

“Why?”

“Because this morning he showed me a picture of your mother.”

Mrs. Bell went pale. “Daniel was her driver.”

Alessandro finally opened the door, though he kept himself between Luca and the kitchen.

Luca explained that Daniel had come to the mansion before dawn, asking to speak to Alessandro. Victoria had intercepted him. She’d threatened to call the police, and Daniel had gone to the gate instead. Luca saw him leave after dropping the envelope. He had not followed, because Victoria ordered him to keep everyone inside.

“Why would you take orders from her over me?” Alessandro asked.

“I shouldn’t have.”

It was the first honest answer Alessandro had heard from him all day.

Luca looked at Mara. “I put a camera in your room. Victoria told me you’d been searching the private offices and might steal documents.”

Mara’s anger came fast. “And you believed her?”

“I knew you were searching. I should have asked why.”

He handed Alessandro his phone. Security footage showed Victoria leaving the mansion through the rear entrance. She climbed into a gray sedan driven by a man in a baseball cap.

Mrs. Bell tapped the screen. “That’s Daniel.”

Mara stared. “Why would he take her?”

The video advanced. Victoria reached the car and opened the door herself. Daniel did not appear to force her inside.

Luca said, “I ran the plate. It’s registered to a property company your father still owns.”

Alessandro looked back at the ledger in Mara’s hands.

Enzo Romano had claimed for eighteen years that he had no idea what happened to Isabella. Now his former driver was carrying Victoria away in one of his cars.

Mara’s phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number showed a photograph of Isabella sitting in a chair, alive, with that day’s newspaper in her lap.