Chapter 8 - THE TRUST THAT WASN’T SAFE
The attorney’s name was Jonathan Pierce.
Forty-eight.
Harvard Law.
Immaculate reputation.
He had handled two property purchases for me years earlier and never once mentioned Matteo’s organization.
That was exactly why I trusted him.
By noon, Matteo’s accountants had traced the new trust.
The money was still there.
But a secondary authorization had been added.
Not enough to withdraw funds.
Enough to pledge them as collateral.
I felt physically sick.
“I built an escape and handed Luca the foundation.”
Matteo looked at me.
“No.”
“I chose Pierce.”
“Because Luca spent years making sure you would.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“It should.”
“Why?”
“Because this wasn’t stupidity. It was planning.”
I stared.
“You don’t get to comfort me like a husband right now.”
Pain flashed across his face.
Good.
I wanted the truth to hurt both of us.
Matteo’s financial team froze every related account.
Then Pierce disappeared.
His office was empty.
His phone disconnected.
His apartment cleared.
Luca had moved faster.
Adrian paced beside the window.
“He has another route.”
“What route?” Matteo asked.
Adrian shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Matteo grabbed him by the jacket.
“You came here claiming you know Luca’s plan.”
“I know pieces.”
“You helped build it.”
“Years ago.”
Matteo slammed him against the wall.
I stood.
“Matteo.”
He ignored me.
“Tell me everything.”
Adrian laughed bitterly.
“This is why Norah was going to leave you.”
Matteo froze.
Adrian continued.
“You think fear is loyalty.”
Matteo’s fist tightened.
“Let him go,” I said.
This time, Matteo listened.
He stepped back.
Adrian adjusted his jacket.
Then looked at me.
“There is one thing Luca always wanted.”
“What?”
“Vittorio’s black ledger.”
Matteo’s face changed.
I knew immediately that it was real.
“What’s in it?”
“Every politician, judge, cop, banker, and business owner your father ever paid.”
Matteo looked toward Elena.
“Where is it?”
She shook her head.
“Vittorio hid it before he died.”
Adrian said:
“Luca thinks Norah knows.”
I almost laughed.
“I didn’t know it existed.”
“He doesn’t care what you know.”
Adrian’s eyes moved toward my stomach.
“He thinks Matteo told you without realizing it.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Maybe not consciously.”
I thought about our marriage.
Late nights.
Matteo talking in his sleep after drinking.
Names.
Numbers.
Warnings.
Then I remembered something.
Three months earlier, Matteo had woken from a nightmare and whispered:
“My mother’s chapel.”
I assumed grief.
Now I looked at him.
“What chapel?”
He stared.
“What?”
“Your mother’s chapel.”
His face changed.
Elena whispered:
“Oh, no.”
Matteo turned.
“What?”
She crossed herself.
“Isabella’s memorial chapel.”
Adrian smiled without humor.
“Vittorio built it after she died.”
I felt the baby kick.
May you like
Then Elena said:
“And beneath the altar is a vault nobody has opened in twenty years.”
