Chapter 8 - THE MOTHER WHO WASN'T IN HER GRAVE
My mother's grave was empty.
I learned that the next morning.
The cemetery records showed a sealed coffin had been buried eight years earlier.
But when investigators obtained the necessary authorization to examine inconsistencies in the death documentation, they discovered the funeral records didn't match the hospital records.
The body had never been independently identified.
I sat beside Rosa Bellini.
My aunt wouldn't look at me.
"You knew."
She began crying.
I stood.
"You knew she might be alive."
"I suspected."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
"Then what did you know?"
Rosa wiped her face.
"Marianne called me three years after her supposed death."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
"She said Victor had found her."
I stared.
"Why didn't she come home?"
"Because Victor threatened you."
I laughed bitterly.
"Everyone protects me by lying to me."
Rosa closed her eyes.
"I know."
I turned away.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I thought of Leo.
The baby had been missing for twelve hours.
My anger could wait.
"Where did Mom go?"
"I don't know."
"Did she mention Sofia?"
Rosa nodded.
"Yes."
My heart tightened.
"How?"
"Marianne helped Sofia investigate Victor."
Everything connected.
My mother and Leo's mother had worked together.
Both women had uncovered the stolen trust.
Sofia died.
Marianne disappeared again.
Maybe Victor kept her alive because she knew where Matteo's evidence was hidden.
Or maybe—
I stopped.
"The woman with Victor might not be Mom willingly."
Rosa looked up.
"Exactly."
My phone rang.
Luca.
"We have a location."
I stood.
"Where?"
"An old Bellini property outside the city."
My grandfather's family.
Of course.
By afternoon, police had surrounded the property.
Negotiators contacted Victor.
He demanded me.
Not Luca.
Me.
He wanted the brass key and a signed transfer of Matteo's shares.
Rebecca prepared documents designed to stall.
I stayed under police protection.
No dramatic solo rescue.
No walking into a house because some villain demanded it.
Still, Victor wanted to hear my voice.
Under supervision, I took the call.
"Avery Bellini Moretti."
I flinched.
"Don't call me that."
He laughed.
"Matteo's temper."
"Where's Leo?"
"Safe."
"Where's my mother?"
Silence.
Then a woman's voice came through.
"Avery?"
My knees nearly buckled.
"Mom?"
She began crying.
"Oh, baby."
Eight years disappeared.
I was nineteen again.
Holding her hand in a hospital room.
Watching her fade.
Except she hadn't.
She was alive.
I covered my mouth.
"Mom, are you okay?"
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. Are you hurt?"
"No."
Then Victor took the phone back.
"Now you understand the value of cooperation."
I felt rage rise.
But Luca's hand rested near mine.
Not touching.
Just there.
I looked at him.
Then answered Victor calmly.
"No."
He paused.
"No?"
"You've spent twenty-eight years making people afraid."
I swallowed.
"That doesn't mean you're powerful."
His voice hardened.
"You have one hour."
Then the call ended.
Minutes later, police received another signal from inside the property.
Someone had activated an emergency beacon.
Not Leo.
Not Marianne.
Maria had mentioned another person.
The beacon was registered to a medical bracelet.
The patient's name?
May you like
Matteo Moretti.
My father.
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