Chapter 12 - THE WOMAN BEHIND THIRTY YEARS OF LIES
The first shot shattered a stained-glass window.
Dante grabbed Isabella and pulled her behind a wooden pew.
Glass rained across the chapel floor.
Margaret Bell stood near the entrance, her pistol raised.
"You should have stayed out of this, Dante!"
He pressed a hand against his injured shoulder.
"Thirty years, Margaret. You had thirty years to walk away."
She laughed bitterly.
"Walk away from what? Everything Victor promised me?"
Dante glanced toward the side door.
Elena was outside with Marco's security team.
He had insisted she remain in the vehicle.
For once, he was grateful she had listened.
"Tell me what happened to my mother," he demanded.
Margaret's expression twisted.
"Maria Moretti was a fool."
Dante felt his anger rise.
"Careful."
"She thought she could save Gabriella. She thought she could expose Victor and walk away."
"Did you kill her?"
Margaret smiled.
"I loosened the brake line myself."
Dante went completely still.
The confession hung between them.
Thirty years of unanswered questions.
Thirty years of grief.
And the truth was standing fifteen feet away.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because she found the ledgers. Because she knew Victor had been moving money through Antonio's companies. Because she planned to give everything to the authorities."
Dante's jaw tightened.
"And my father?"
"He discovered the sabotage afterward. Victor convinced him that exposing us would put you and Luca in danger."
Dante stared at her.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"Because Antonio Moretti was afraid."
Margaret said the words with contempt.
"He was afraid Victor would kill his sons. So he buried the evidence and spent the rest of his life trying to undo what he'd allowed."
Dante thought of his father's final years.
The sleepless nights.
The locked blue room.
The way he sometimes stood outside Dante's bedroom as if he wanted to say something.
His father had not ordered his mother's murder.
But he had protected the people responsible.
And that betrayal would never disappear.
Isabella rose slowly.
"Margaret, it's over."
Margaret turned toward her.
"No, sweetheart. It's finally beginning."
She reached into her coat.
Dante saw the movement.
A small electronic device.
A remote detonator.
His blood ran cold.
"What's that?"
Margaret smiled.
"Insurance."
Dante glanced around the chapel.
"Where?"
"Under the altar."
Isabella gasped.
Margaret lifted the device.
"Victor built his empire on lies. Antonio helped him. And now all their children are gathered in one place."
Dante stood.
"Don't do this."
"Why not?"
"Because killing us won't bring back what you lost."
Margaret's face crumpled.
For one moment, the ruthless woman disappeared.
In her place stood someone who had spent decades feeding her own bitterness.
Then she raised the detonator.
Dante moved.
He vaulted over the pew and slammed into her.
The pistol fired.
A bullet struck the ceiling.
They crashed onto the marble floor.
Margaret screamed.
The detonator slid across the aisle.
Isabella lunged for it.
One of Margaret's men grabbed her.
Then the chapel doors burst open.
"Police! Drop your weapons!"
Marco entered alongside a tactical team.
The armed men surrendered.
Margaret struggled beneath Dante.
He pinned her wrists.
"It's over."
She stared at him with hatred.
Then laughed.
"You think you've won?"
Dante tightened his grip.
"Yes."
Margaret leaned closer.
"Then ask Elena why she really came to work for your family."
Dante froze.
"What?"
Margaret smiled.
"Four years ago, a beautiful young widow arrived at your gates carrying a baby."
Dante stared at her.
"She needed a job."
"Did she?"
Margaret's eyes glittered.
"Ask her who sent her."
Dante released his grip just enough for the officers to take Margaret into custody.
Then he turned toward the chapel doors.
Elena stood there.
May you like
Her face was white.
And Dante knew, before she spoke, that Margaret had told the truth.
