Chapter 5 - VIVIAN'S SECRET
Vivian opened her eyes in a dark room.
Her wrists were tied.
Her head hurt.
She tried to move.
A man's voice came from somewhere behind her.
"Don't."
Vivian froze.
"Where am I?"
"You don't need to know."
"Who are you?"
Silence.
Vivian swallowed.
"I want to speak to him."
"To Luca?"
"Yes."
A man stepped into the dim light.
Vivian recognized him.
Her face went pale.
"You."
He smiled.
"You knew this day would come."
"I did everything you asked."
"You made mistakes."
"I got the documents."
"You were supposed to get the signature."
"He came home."
"You should have stopped him."
Vivian's voice trembled.
"You said he wouldn't come home."
The man leaned closer.
"I said he shouldn't come home."
Vivian looked away.
"What's going to happen to me?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"Whether you still have something useful."
Vivian stared at him.
"I know where the ledger is."
The man's expression changed.
"Where?"
"Safe."
"Where?"
"I'll tell Luca."
He grabbed her chin.
"You won't tell Luca anything."
Vivian smiled bitterly.
"You need me."
The man released her.
For the first time, she saw uncertainty in his eyes.
Vivian had spent years surviving people like him.
She knew weakness when she saw it.
"I know where Rafael hid the original ledger."
The man went still.
"You've been lying."
"No."
"Rafael is dead."
Vivian laughed.
"That's what everyone thinks."
He stared at her.
"You saw him?"
"Not recently."
"Then how do you know?"
"Because your people searched the wrong place."
"Where?"
Vivian smiled.
"Ask Isabella."
Back at the Moretti mansion, Luca stood in the basement.
He had spent two hours reviewing security footage.
Every clue led somewhere.
And every path eventually returned to his mother.
The hidden room.
The false medical records.
The financial authorization.
The ring.
The old photograph.
Then Naomi found something.
"Boss."
Luca turned.
She held an old ledger.
"Where did you find that?"
"Behind the wall."
Luca took it.
The cover was cracked.
Inside were handwritten names.
Payments.
Dates.
Political figures.
Judges.
Police officials.
Businessmen.
People who had been connected to the Moretti organization for decades.
Luca flipped through the pages.
Then stopped.
A name appeared repeatedly.
Victor Moretti.
But beside it was another name.
Rafael Moretti.
And beside Rafael's name were payments marked:
PROTECTION.
Luca's eyes narrowed.
His father hadn't been paying people to protect the family.
He had been paying them to protect someone else.
"Naomi."
"Yes?"
"Look at this."
She read the entries.
"Who was he protecting?"
Luca turned the page.
There was a final note.
THE BOY MUST NEVER KNOW.
Luca stared.
"The boy."
He was the boy.
Naomi whispered:
"What was your father hiding?"
Before Luca could answer, Isabella entered the room.
She had somehow left her wheelchair.
She was holding onto the railing with one hand.
Luca rushed toward her.
"Ma, you shouldn't be walking."
She ignored him.
She pointed at the ledger.
Then at herself.
Then at Luca.
She shook her head.
"No."
Luca understood.
"No what?"
She pointed toward the name Victor.
Then drew a circle around it.
"Victor?"
She nodded.
Then she wrote:
NOT MY BROTHER-IN-LAW.
Luca frowned.
"What?"
She wrote again.
HE IS NOT VICTOR.
Luca's eyes widened.
Naomi whispered:
"Then who is he?"
Isabella looked at her son.
She took the pen.
Her hand trembled.
She wrote:
VICTOR DIED BEFORE YOUR FATHER.
Luca stepped backward.
"Then who was the man at the funeral?"
Isabella's eyes filled with tears.
She wrote one final sentence.
THE MAN WHO STOOD BESIDE US WAS THE MAN WHO KILLED HIM.
Luca stared at the words.
Everything shifted.
Twenty-eight years of history.
A fake uncle.
A fake doctor.
A fake medical authorization.
A woman named Vivian deliberately entering his life.
It wasn't a financial scheme.
It was an inheritance war.
And someone had been preparing it for nearly three decades.
Then the basement lights turned on.
A voice came from the doorway.
"You're finally asking the right questions."
Luca turned.
No one was there.
Only a speaker.
The voice continued.
"Your father left you something."
Luca raised his weapon.
"Show yourself."
A laugh.
"You already have it."
"What?"
"The ledger."
Luca looked down.
The voice said:
"Now read the last page."
Luca flipped through the book.
The final page was sealed.
He tore it open.
A photograph fell out.
Luca picked it up.
His hands went cold.
The photograph showed his father.
Alive.
Standing beside a young woman.
A little girl stood between them.
Luca stared at the girl's face.
He recognized her.
Vivian.
Naomi whispered:
"She knew your father."
Luca's eyes remained fixed on the photograph.
The voice returned.
"She knew much more than that."
Then the speaker went silent.
Luca's phone rang.
This time, the caller ID displayed a number he hadn't seen in twenty-eight years.
His father's old private line.
He answered.
A man's voice spoke.
"Hello, son."
Luca stopped breathing.
The voice was older.
Rougher.
But unmistakable.
Rafael Moretti.
May you like
His father.
"You're finally home."
