Chapter 5 - WHAT LUCA’S FATHER KNEW
Luca did not deny it.
That hurt Emma more than William’s accusation.
“You knew.”
“Not when I came here.”
“But you knew something.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Luca closed the consultation-room door behind him.
His attorney remained outside.
William watched with obvious satisfaction.
Luca ignored him.
“When Vittorio died, most of his private records passed to me.”
Emma folded her arms.
“Go on.”
“Six months ago, I found an audio recording.”
“The one where my father said William threatened him?”
“Yes.”
“There was more.”
Emma felt cold.
“What?”
“Michael told Vittorio he planned to meet a federal prosecutor the next morning.”
William leaned back.
Luca continued.
“My father told him not to go alone.”
“Why?”
“Because someone had already discovered the meeting.”
Emma stared.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
William laughed.
“You know enough.”
Luca’s gaze turned lethal.
Emma cut between them.
“No.”
Both men stopped.
She looked at Luca.
“You are not going to stare each other into silence while I sit here guessing about my dead father.”
Luca took a breath.
Then nodded.
“Vittorio sent one of his men to follow Michael.”
Emma’s stomach tightened.
“To protect him?”
“That was the instruction.”
“And?”
“The man never arrived.”
“Why?”
“He received a second order.”
“From Vittorio?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Luca looked toward William.
William’s face changed.
Emma noticed.
“The second order came from a Morrison office phone.”
Silence.
William said:
“That proves nothing.”
Luca continued.
“The guard was redirected to a warehouse across town.”
“What happened at the construction site?”
“We don’t have proof.”
“Then what do you think?”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“Michael fell from a partially completed third-floor platform.”
Emma closed her eyes.
She had been nineteen.
Police at the door.
Her mother already dead.
No siblings.
Everything ended in one afternoon.
“Was anyone with him?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes opened.
“Who?”
Luca looked at William.
“William Morrison.”
Emma stopped breathing.
William stood.
“That is a lie.”
Luca removed his phone.
Photograph.
Grainy.
Old security still.
Two men entering the construction site.
Michael Hayes.
William Morrison.
Timestamp:
7:14 a.m.
The accident happened at 7:46.
William stared.
“Where did you get that?”
“My father kept everything.”
Emma looked at William.
“You were there.”
“He called me.”
“Why?”
“To talk.”
“About the shares?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Michael was angry. He stepped backward. The railing failed.”
Luca said:
“The railing had been removed.”
William snapped:
“Construction sites change every hour.”
Emma’s voice shook.
“Did you push him?”
“No.”
“Did you touch him?”
“No.”
“Did you call 911?”
William hesitated.
That pause destroyed him.
“You didn’t.”
“I panicked.”
“You left him.”
“He was still breathing.”
Emma felt sick.
“You left my father dying on concrete?”
William looked away.
“I called anonymously.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“How much later?”
No answer.
Luca said:
“Thirty-seven minutes.”
Emma covered her mouth.
Thirty-seven minutes.
Her father might have lived.
She looked at William.
“You challenged my daughter’s inheritance fourteen years after leaving my father to die.”
William’s expression hardened.
“The money never belonged to Michael.”
Emma laughed through tears.
There it was.
The justification that made everything possible.
Then the consultation-room door opened again.
Brittany stood outside.
She looked terrified.
“Emma.”
“What?”
“I need to tell you something.”
Derek appeared behind her.
“Brittany, don’t.”
She turned.
“Shut up.”
Then looked back at Emma.
“Derek made me sign papers too.”
Emma’s stomach tightened.
“What papers?”
Brittany reached into her handbag.
A copy of a prenatal authorization.
Derek’s name.
Brittany’s name.
And beneath it:
BENEFICIARY DESIGNATION — MORRISON FAMILY HOLDINGS.
Emma stared.
May you like
Brittany whispered:
“He told me our baby would inherit if something happened to yours.”
