Chapter 7 - THE BRIDE IN THE CELLARBianca’s hidden message gave them one clue.
A photograph attached seconds later.
Stone wall.
Blue tile.
Part of a wine bottle label.
Valerio enlarged it.
“Gozo winery.”
Enzo searched regional estates.
Only three matched the blue tile.
They reached the second property after midnight.
A private vineyard built over limestone cellars.
Marco’s rental car sat behind the main house.
Veronica reached for the door.
Valerio stopped her.
“Wait.”
“My sister is inside.”
“And running in blind helps her how?”
Veronica looked ready to attack him.
Alessia touched her arm.
“Listen.”
Veronica stared.
Then nodded.
They entered through a side service corridor.
Valerio’s men moved ahead.
No gunfire.
No shouting.
Only footsteps.
Then a scream from below.
Veronica ran anyway.
“Bianca!”
They reached the cellar.
Marco stood beside a chair.
Bianca sat tied to it.
Lucia was nowhere visible.
Marco raised a gun.
Valerio immediately stepped in front of Alessia.
“Put it down.”
Marco laughed.
“You always did enjoy giving orders.”
Bianca’s face was bruised.
Veronica saw it.
Her entire body changed.
“What did you do to her?”
Marco glanced at Bianca.
“She refused to cooperate.”
“You hit my sister.”
“She’s my wife.”
Veronica moved.
Alessia grabbed her.
“Don’t.”
Marco smiled.
“This family. Always dramatic.”
Valerio said:
“Where is Lucia?”
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“Not your concern.”
“Then you’re no longer useful.”
Marco’s smile faded.
Valerio’s men appeared behind him.
Marco looked around.
Finally understood.
He was surrounded.
He raised the gun toward Bianca.
Bad decision.
Bianca slammed both feet into his knee.
He fell.
Veronica launched herself at him.
Valerio’s men disarmed him.
Bianca screamed:
“Get him away from me!”
Veronica dropped beside her.
“I’m here.”
Bianca stared at her.
Then began crying.
Veronica cut the ropes with shaking hands.
Alessia watched.
For all Veronica’s cruelty, the love between the sisters was real.
Bianca collapsed into her arms.
Then saw Alessia.
“You came.”
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“The wedding.”
“You didn’t pull the chair.”
“No, but I knew Veronica hated you and I never stopped it.”
Veronica flinched.
Alessia said:
“That conversation can wait.”
Bianca nodded.
“Mom has the ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“The original.”
Everyone went still.
Marco laughed from the floor.
“You’re too late.”
Valerio turned.
“Where is she?”
Marco spat blood.
“No idea.”
Veronica crouched in front of him.
“You married my sister for money.”
“Yes.”
“At my mother’s request?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She needed Bianca’s trust access.”
Bianca looked confused.
“What access?”
Alessia understood.
“The V.R. Foundation.”
Bianca was the youngest Romano beneficiary.
Some legacy trusts required signatures from two descendants.
Lucia could access her own portion.
But to liquidate the foundation entirely, she needed Bianca.
That was why the wedding mattered.
Marriage shifted certain trust permissions through an old family clause.
Marco had married Bianca, then obtained spousal authority through documents hidden in wedding paperwork.
Bianca stared.
“I signed what?”
Marco smiled.
“The prenup package.”
She looked sick.
Alessia’s anger sharpened.
“Fraudulent consent invalidates it.”
Marco looked at her.
“If you live long enough to challenge it.”
Valerio stepped closer.
Marco stopped smiling.
Then Bianca whispered:
“Mom is leaving tonight.”
Everyone turned.
“She said once the transfer cleared, she was meeting someone at the marina.”
“Who?”
Bianca looked at Valerio.
“Lorenzo.”
They reached the marina forty minutes later.
Too late.
A yacht had already left.
But Enzo tracked its transponder.
Heading south.
Destination filed:
Tripoli.
Likely false.
Valerio stared at the navigation screen.
“She’s running.”
Alessia shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“Lucia doesn’t run.”
Veronica looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because women like Lucia survive by making everyone else move first.”
Alessia looked at the Malta accounts.
Then the wedding records.
Then the trust documents.
“She’s not fleeing.”
“Then what is she doing?”
“Buying time.”
“For what?”
Alessia’s eyes lifted.
“To move the real money somewhere none of us can touch.”
Valerio understood.
“The United States.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Alessia typed.
Romano Foundation beneficiary properties.
One location appeared repeatedly.
New York.
A private museum trust.
Closed for renovation.
Owned through an entity controlled by Lucia.
Alessia stared.
“She’s going back.”
Veronica whispered:
“To New York?”
“Yes.”
May you like
And suddenly the entire Malta trip looked like another distraction.
Lucia had pulled them across an ocean while the real endgame waited at home.
