Chapter 8 - THE HONEYMOON THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO KILL ME
Our honeymoon had been booked for Lake Como.
A private villa.
Boat access.
Minimal staff.
I had chosen it because I wanted five quiet days with the man I'd loved for thirteen years.
According to Bianca, Carlo chose it because it would isolate me.
Lucia traced the villa rental.
The booking company was partly owned by one of Vittorio Moretti's associates.
A boat captain assigned to us had worked for Carlo's security company.
And two days before our canceled wedding, a new life-insurance policy had been created in my name.
I had never signed it.
My hands went numb.
“Who was the beneficiary?”
Lucia looked at me.
“Bellini Holdings.”
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
My own uncle had apparently planned to profit from my death.
I thought about every Christmas dinner.
Every birthday.
The man who held me when my father died.
The man who told me family was everything.
I felt physically sick.
Then Alessandro arrived at Lucia's office.
I hadn't asked him to come.
She had.
He stood in the doorway, saw my face, and immediately understood something was wrong.
“What happened?”
Lucia told him.
His expression changed.
Then the old Alessandro appeared.
The terrifying one.
His eyes turned cold.
His hands closed into fists.
“I'll kill him.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
I stood.
“No, Alex.”
“Serena—”
“If you kill Carlo, then everything stays in the shadows.”
“He planned to murder you.”
“And I want him exposed.”
His jaw tightened.
“I want the truth in daylight.”
For several seconds, we stared at each other.
Then something remarkable happened.
Alessandro stepped backward.
He took a breath.
And said:
“All right.”
Not because he agreed emotionally.
Because he respected my choice.
That mattered more than he knew.
The investigation expanded.
Accounts were frozen.
Travel records were reviewed.
Carlo's attorneys began issuing denials.
Vittorio Moretti claimed Bianca was lying to protect herself.
The whole city whispered.
But I no longer cared about society gossip.
I cared about evidence.
Then Lucia found something unexpected.
My father's trust contained a second clause.
If Carlo was proven to have acted against my safety or financial interests, his voting authority over Bellini Maritime could be suspended.
I stared.
“Dad planned for this?”
“He planned for the possibility.”
My eyes filled.
Even after death, my father had tried to protect me.
Then the independent trustee made a preliminary decision.
Carlo's control over my shares was temporarily suspended pending legal review.
For the first time in thirteen years, he was losing the company he'd treated as his own.
That evening, he called me.
I answered.
“Serena.”
His voice sounded older.
“You've made a terrible mistake.”
I looked toward Lucia.
She nodded for me to remain calm.
“No, Carlo.”
I took a breath.
“I think trusting you was the mistake.”
Silence.
Then he whispered:
“Your father said the same thing before he died.”
My blood turned cold.
May you like
And before he disconnected, my uncle added:
“He begged me not to involve you.”
