Chapter 5 - THE NAME ISABELLA SAID
I pulled my gun before thought could interfere.
Marco did not move.
“Put it down.”
“You knew she said your name.”
“No.”
“Serena says she did.”
“And you trust Serena now?”
“I trust the fact that you look terrified.”
Marco held my stare.
Then slowly removed his own gun and placed it on the chapel floor.
“I did not take Isabella.”
“Then why would she say your name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
He closed his eyes.
“There is something I didn’t tell you.”
I laughed.
“Apparently that is everyone’s favorite sentence.”
Marco reached into his coat.
A second phone.
Not his usual one.
He unlocked it and handed it to me.
Messages from Isabella.
Weeks of them.
Questions about old properties.
My mother.
Gabriel Vale.
The ledger.
Then one thread caught my attention.
ISABELLA:
Someone accessed the archive after us.
MARCO:
How do you know?
ISABELLA:
The file order changed.
MARCO:
I’ll check.
ISABELLA:
Do not tell Luca yet.
Then, four days later:
MARCO:
I found the access record. This is bad.
ISABELLA:
Who?
MARCO:
Paolo.
My stomach dropped.
Paolo Rossi.
My cousin.
My father’s sister’s son.
He ran our legitimate construction companies and avoided the criminal side publicly.
He also attended the dinner the night Isabella contradicted me.
He had been the man who spoke about settling the dispute “the traditional way.”
I remembered his expression when Isabella challenged him.
Not anger.
Interest.
Marco continued.
“Paolo learned Isabella was investigating Vittorio.”
“Why would he care?”
“Because Vittorio wasn’t the only one involved in Gabriel’s death.”
I stared.
“Who?”
“Paolo’s father.”
My uncle Salvatore.
Dead eleven years.
Marco explained that Salvatore handled Vittorio’s internal security.
If Lucia tried to escape, Salvatore would have been responsible for finding her.
“If the ledger exists,” Marco said, “it may document everything.”
I lowered the gun slightly.
“But Isabella said your name.”
“I may know why.”
“What?”
“She called me after leaving the mansion.”
My grip tightened.
“You spoke to her that night?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“4:18 a.m.”
Six minutes after she passed through our gates.
“What did she say?”
“She said she was done protecting your feelings.”
That hurt.
“She asked me to meet her at her childhood home.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you called me at 4:26 ordering me to meet you downtown.”
I remembered.
Another useless meeting.
Another hour I chose work over her.
Marco continued:
“I sent someone I trusted to check on her.”
“Who?”
His face hardened.
“A guard named Anthony.”
I knew Anthony.
He had worked for our family twelve years.
“Where is he?”
“Missing since this morning.”
My phone buzzed.
A new message.
Unknown.
Video.
Isabella appeared inside a moving car.
Her face was pale, but alert.
A man drove beside her.
Only part of his profile visible.
Then Isabella looked directly into the camera and said:
“Luca, Marco didn’t betray me.”
Marco exhaled.
She continued:
“But someone wants you to think he did.”
Then the camera shifted.
For half a second, the driver’s face became visible.
Paolo Rossi.
My cousin smiled toward the lens.
May you like
And said:
“Come find your wife.”
