Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Vanished
Isabella had imagined the Moretti gates many times over the years.
Usually in nightmares.
They had changed.
Six years earlier, black iron had been enough.
Now there were cameras hidden inside stone pillars, reinforced barriers, thermal sensors, guards inside an outer gate and more guards inside the inner courtyard.
Emma pressed her face near the tinted window.
“Is this your house?”
Alejandro glanced at her.
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He frowned.
“Why what?”
“Why do you need this much house?”
Isabella looked toward the window to hide a smile.
Alejandro considered the question.
“No good reason.”
Emma nodded.
“That's silly.”
Nobody in Alejandro's life called his property silly.
The driver coughed to hide laughter.
Alejandro slowly looked toward the front.
The driver became fascinated by traffic.
Emma continued.
“Do you have a playground?”
“No.”
“Swing?”
“No.”
“Treehouse?”
“No.”
“Then what do you have?”
Alejandro thought about the estate.
Wine cellar.
Private armory.
Conference rooms.
Security bunker.
Indoor pool nobody used.
A library designed by his grandfather.
Several pieces of Renaissance art worth more than some houses.
“Books.”
Emma looked disappointed.
Isabella laughed softly.
The sound struck Alejandro.
For a moment they were twenty-seven again.
Sitting in a tiny restaurant because Isabella refused to let him reserve the entire place.
She had laughed when the waiter spilled wine on Alejandro's jacket.
He had been furious.
She laughed harder.
That was the first time Alejandro realized being embarrassed did not always need to become anger.
He looked at her now.
She sensed it and turned away.
Six years had not erased everything.
That was dangerous.
The SUV entered the courtyard.
Marco waited on the steps.
Beside him stood eight senior men.
They had expected an emergency briefing.
They had not expected a child.
Emma stepped out first.
Every armed man went silent.
She looked around.
Then at Marco.
“Are you the cookie person?”
Marco blinked.
“What?”
Alejandro exited.
“I told her we have employees.”
“You said you own people,” Isabella corrected.
Marco stared at Alejandro.
Alejandro's face warned him not to comment.
Marco crouched slightly toward Emma.
“I can find cookies.”
“Chocolate chip?”
“Probably.”
“Warm?”
Marco glanced at Alejandro.
“I can make them warm.”
Emma nodded approvingly.
“You can stay.”
Marco stood slowly.
“Alejandro, may I speak with you?”
“Study.”
“Now.”
“I assumed.”
Alejandro turned to Isabella.
“Maria will show you upstairs.”
“I don't want to be separated.”
“You won't be. Emma stays with you.”
“From you.”
The words were quiet.
Alejandro met her eyes.
“This conversation is about the threat.”
“That is exactly why.”
He understood her distrust.
He hated it.
But he understood.
“Then come.”
The three entered the study.
Emma immediately noticed the red painted stone on Alejandro's desk.
“You stole it!”
Alejandro looked offended.
“I did not.”
“It was in my basket.”
“You left it.”
“You put it in your pocket.”
“I was preserving structural integrity.”
Marco stared at him.
Emma crossed her arms.
“That's stealing with big words.”
Isabella covered her mouth.
Marco turned away.
Alejandro picked up the stone and handed it over.
“Take it.”
Emma accepted it.
Then smiled.
“You can borrow it.”
She put it back on his desk.
Something warm moved through Alejandro again.
Marco opened a file.
“Father Gabriel's church was empty when our people arrived.”
“Signs of struggle?”
“No.”
“Blood?”
“No.”
“Car?”
“Gone.”
“Cameras?”
“Disabled from 5:12 to 5:47 this morning.”
Alejandro leaned against the desk.
“The roses.”
“Eleven. Black.”
Isabella whispered, “For the men who died?”
“That would be my assumption,” Marco said.
Emma was drawing at a side table now.
Alejandro lowered his voice.
“Anything on the attack?”
Marco opened another folder.
“We traced the trucking authorization.”
“To whom?”
“Still unclear.”
“You said five possible people.”
“I was wrong.”
Alejandro's eyes hardened.
“That rarely improves my mood.”
“The authorization used an old master credential.”
“How old?”
Marco hesitated.
“Your father's.”
Alejandro went motionless.
Vittorio Moretti had been dead seven years.
Isabella turned.
“How is that possible?”
“Somebody kept access alive,” Marco said.
Alejandro's father had ruled the family differently.
Where Alejandro preferred controlled business, Vittorio had believed fear should be theatrical.
Men disappeared.
Businesses burned.
Enemies received messages carved into wood and sometimes skin.
Alejandro had spent years modernizing what his father left behind.
Apparently somebody had preserved more than old traditions.
“Who maintained those credentials?”
Marco said, “Father Gabriel knew some of them.”
Isabella sat down.
“No.”
Alejandro looked at her.
“You trust him?”
“He saved us.”
“Maybe.”
“No. Not maybe. He gave me money. Documents. Places to stay.”
“How did you contact him?”
“I didn't. He found me.”
Alejandro's attention sharpened.
“What?”
Isabella realized what she had said.
“The day after I left.”
“Where?”
“Bus station.”
“How did he know?”
“He said you sent him.”
Alejandro stared.
“I didn't even know you were gone until afternoon.”
Isabella's breathing changed.
“No.”
“I never sent Gabriel.”
“He knew I was pregnant.”
Alejandro's voice became cold.
“How?”
“I thought you told him.”
“I told nobody because I didn't know.”
Marco muttered, “Jesus.”
The room shifted.
Six years earlier, Isabella had received a threat.
Then the next day, a trusted family priest conveniently appeared.
He told her Alejandro had sent him.
He helped her disappear.
And he knew about the pregnancy.
“What else did Gabriel tell you?” Alejandro asked.
Isabella searched her memory.
“That staying away was the only way to protect Emma.”
“Did he ever encourage you to contact me?”
“No.”
“Did he discourage it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He said your enemies watched everything.”
“That could have been true.”
“He also said…” Isabella stopped.
“What?”
“He said eventually you would move on.”
Alejandro laughed once.
There was nothing pleasant in the sound.
“Convenient.”
“Alejandro.”
“What else?”
“He said if you had really wanted me back, you would have found me.”
Alejandro looked at her.
Pain flashed across his face.
“I searched for four years.”
Isabella's eyes filled.
“What?”
“I spent millions.”
She shook her head.
“Gabriel said—”
“I checked every known relative. Every credit application. Hospitals. Borders.”
“He told me you stopped looking after three months.”
Alejandro turned away.
For six years, two people had lived with opposite lies.
He believed Isabella rejected him.
She believed Alejandro abandoned her.
Someone had carefully manufactured both wounds.
Marco whispered, “Someone wanted you separated.”
Alejandro looked at Emma.
She was humming while drawing.
A house.
Three figures beside it.
One small.
Two tall.
Isabella followed his gaze.
Her eyes filled.
“Why?”
Alejandro knew the answer.
“Because together we had something they feared.”
“Emma?”
“Not only Emma.”
He walked to a locked cabinet.
Inside were old Moretti documents.
His father had maintained family trusts, voting shares, property arrangements.
Alejandro pulled out a leather folder.
Marco frowned.
“What are you thinking?”
Alejandro opened it.
His grandfather's will.
His father's amendments.
Then another document.
Inheritance structure.
Alejandro read.
A detail he had ignored years earlier suddenly mattered.
Moretti family voting control could pass only to a direct biological descendant.
If Alejandro died without an acknowledged heir, control transferred temporarily to a council of three senior family members.
Marco read over his shoulder.
His face changed.
“Who are the three?”
Alejandro already knew.
One dead.
One retired.
And one still active.
His uncle.
Dominic Moretti.
A man who had publicly supported Alejandro for fifteen years.
A man who would inherit operational control if Alejandro died childless.
Isabella whispered, “You think your uncle threatened me?”
“I think somebody benefited from making sure Emma never became part of this family.”
Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his eyes moved toward Alejandro.
“What?”
Marco ended the call.
“Father Gabriel's car was found.”
“Where?”
“Forty miles north.”
“And Gabriel?”
“Not there.”
“Anything else?”
Marco hesitated.
“There was a photograph on the driver's seat.”
Alejandro's stomach tightened.
“Of?”
Marco looked toward Emma.
“A little girl sitting beside a lake.”
Isabella stood so quickly her chair fell backward.
Emma looked up.
“Mama?”
Alejandro moved before anyone else.
He crossed the room and crouched beside Emma.
“Everything's okay.”
It was not.
The photograph had been taken yesterday.
Someone had watched them.
Someone had seen Emma.
And someone wanted Alejandro to know it.
Emma reached for his hand.
Alejandro let her.
Behind him, Marco quietly said the words that changed the entire house.
“We're locking every gate.”
Alejandro looked around at his men.
“Not enough.”
“What do you want?”
Alejandro's gaze settled on his daughter.
“From this moment forward, nobody enters or leaves without my authorization.”
Marco nodded.
“And Dominic?”
Alejandro's face became unreadable.
“Bring my uncle here.”
Emma tugged his sleeve.
“Is somebody bad coming?”
Alejandro turned to her.
“No.”
For the first time, he lied.
Because the truth was worse.
May you like
The bad man might already be inside.
And before sunset, Dominic Moretti would walk through the front door smiling like family.
