Chapter 5 - The Enemy Inside the House
Mrs. Doyle stepped into the room.
Elena stared.
“What are you doing here?”
The older nanny looked exhausted.
“I followed you.”
Marco grabbed her arm.
“She approached from the rear entrance.”
Lorenzo’s voice turned cold.
“Why?”
Mrs. Doyle looked at Elena.
“Because Margaret Carter called me.”
Elena stepped forward.
“When?”
“Three hours ago.”
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
Lorenzo closed the distance.
“You have ten seconds.”
Mrs. Doyle did not flinch.
“I was Sofia’s nanny before I was Matteo’s.”
That stopped him.
“You never told me.”
“Sofia asked me not to.”
“Why?”
“Because she was investigating someone you trusted.”
Lorenzo’s face hardened.
“Who?”
Mrs. Doyle looked at Marco.
Nobody moved.
Then she said:
“Your uncle.”
Vittorio Rossi.
Lorenzo’s father’s younger brother.
His mentor.
The man who had taught Lorenzo business after his father died.
The man Lorenzo had placed in charge of family finances.
The man who had recommended every private clinic Matteo visited.
Lorenzo laughed once.
No humor.
“No.”
Mrs. Doyle reached into her coat.
Marco raised his weapon.
“Slowly.”
She produced a ledger.
“Sofia gave me this the week she died.”
Lorenzo opened it.
Payments.
Clinics.
Consultants.
Nursing agencies.
Shell corporations.
Millions transferred.
At the center of everything was a holding company controlled by Vittorio.
Elena understood.
Matteo’s illness had become a machine.
Every new symptom generated another intervention.
Every intervention generated another payment.
But Lorenzo shook his head.
“Vittorio has enough money.”
“This wasn't about money,” Mrs. Doyle said.
“Then what?”
“You.”
Sofia had discovered Vittorio was quietly convincing senior members of Lorenzo’s organization that grief had made him unstable.
A dead wife.
A critically ill infant.
A leader disappearing from meetings.
A father spending nights with doctors.
Vittorio was creating a crisis and then using Lorenzo’s reaction to prove he was unfit.
“But Sofia found out,” Elena said.
Mrs. Doyle nodded.
“And Margaret helped her.”
“Why Margaret?”
“Because Margaret recognized Matteo’s symptoms.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Her mother had seen babies with feeding aversion before.
She knew the difference between disease and learned fear.
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
The recovered audio answered part of the question.
Marco’s technician restored the missing seconds.
Margaret’s voice filled the room.
“Vittorio Rossi.”
Lorenzo went silent.
There was no longer doubt.
They returned to the mansion before dawn.
Vittorio was expected for breakfast.
Lorenzo did not cancel.
Instead, he ordered everyone to behave normally.
Elena hated the plan.
“You’re going to sit across from him?”
“Yes.”
“Knowing what he did?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Practice.”
At eight fifteen, Vittorio arrived.
He was sixty-two, silver-haired, elegant, warm.
He kissed Lorenzo on both cheeks.
Then asked about Matteo.
“How is our little fighter?”
Elena felt disgust rise in her throat.
Lorenzo smiled.
“Improving.”
Vittorio’s expression changed for less than a second.
Elena saw it.
“So suddenly?”
“Yes.”
“The doctors found something?”
“A maid did.”
Vittorio turned toward Elena.
His smile returned.
“You must be Elena.”
She had never been introduced.
That was mistake number one.
“How do you know my name?” she asked.
Silence.
Vittorio recovered quickly.
“Lorenzo mentioned you.”
“No,” Lorenzo said.
The room cooled.
Vittorio smiled.
“Perhaps Rosa.”
Rosa shook her head.
Mistake number two.
Lorenzo poured coffee.
“Sit, Uncle.”
Vittorio sat.
For twenty minutes, they spoke about ordinary matters.
Elena remained near the nursery monitor.
Then Matteo cried.
Vittorio looked toward the sound.
“He still does that after feeding?”
Elena’s eyes met Lorenzo’s.
Nobody had told Vittorio Matteo had just eaten.
Mistake number three.
Lorenzo placed his cup down.
“You know a great deal about my son's feeding schedule.”
“I worry.”
“So did Sofia.”
Vittorio stopped smiling.
Lorenzo placed the ledger on the table.
Everything changed.
Vittorio looked at it.
Then Lorenzo.
“Where did you get that?”
Not What is that?
Where did you get that?
Mistake number four.
Lorenzo stood.
“You should leave.”
Vittorio remained seated.
“Lorenzo.”
“Leave.”
“You’re emotional.”
There it was.
The exact narrative Sofia had warned about.
Vittorio leaned back.
“You haven't been yourself since Sofia died.”
Elena saw Lorenzo’s hand tighten.
But he stayed calm.
“My wife discovered you were stealing from me.”
“Your wife was paranoid.”
“She discovered you were interfering with my son’s treatment.”
“That child was sick before Sofia died.”
“Don't call him that child.”
Vittorio’s smile disappeared.
“You think this maid saved him?”
“No.”
Lorenzo looked at Elena.
“She reminded me to be his father.”
Vittorio stood.
“You’re making a mistake.”
“I made it years ago when I trusted you.”
Security entered.
Vittorio looked around.
Then laughed.
“You think you won?”
Nobody answered.
His eyes moved toward Elena.
“Ask her why Margaret disappeared.”
Elena stiffened.
“What?”
“Your mother wasn't kidnapped.”
“Stop.”
“She ran.”
“Why?”
“Because Sofia died.”
Elena stepped forward.
“What does that mean?”
Vittorio smiled.
“Ask Margaret who was driving the second car that night.”
Lorenzo’s face changed.
Vittorio saw it.
“You didn't know?”
Marco grabbed him.
But Vittorio kept talking.
“Sofia wasn't alone on that road.”
“Take him out,” Lorenzo said.
Vittorio laughed as they dragged him away.
“Elena!” he called.
She looked.
“Your mother saw everything.”
The door slammed.
Elena turned toward Lorenzo.
“Second car?”
“I don't know.”
“Was there another vehicle?”
“The police report mentioned tire marks.”
“You never investigated?”
“I investigated everything.”
“Apparently not.”
Lorenzo flinched.
Elena immediately regretted it.
But fear had become anger.
Her mother was alive.
Sofia had died.
Someone had lied to everyone.
Marco returned.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Vittorio’s men hit one of our storage facilities.”
Lorenzo’s phone rang.
Then Elena’s.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Breathing.
Then:
“Elena?”
She nearly dropped the phone.
“Mom?”
Lorenzo turned.
“Elena, listen carefully.”
Margaret was crying.
“I don't have much time.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m coming to you.”
“No. Tell me where you are.”
“I can't.”
“Mom!”
“I saw Sofia die.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Margaret continued.
“And Lorenzo needs to know the truth.”
The line crackled.
“Tell me.”
A pause.
“Sofia’s death wasn't meant for Sofia.”
Elena looked at Lorenzo.
“What?”
“The person they intended to kill that night…”
A crash sounded through the phone.
May you like
Margaret gasped.
Then the line went dead.
