Chapter 4 - THE DAUGHTER VITTORIO HID
Alessandro laughed once.
It was not amusement.
It was the sound a man made when reality insulted him.
“No.”
Vincenzo stared at the table.
“Alessandro—”
“My father has one child.”
“Publicly.”
Alessandro crossed the room so quickly the accountant’s chair scraped backward.
Silas moved between them.
“Not here.”
Alessandro’s eyes snapped toward him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“Everyone seems to know my family except me.”
Serafina almost told him that made two of them.
Instead, she looked at Vincenzo.
“What proof do you have?”
“Vittorio.”
“He is barely conscious.”
“Then hope he is awake tonight.”
Alessandro turned to her.
“You are not going near him.”
Serafina stared.
He sounded exactly like every man her father’s video had warned her about.
“I’m sorry. Were you under the impression I take orders from men who call waitresses trash?”
Something flashed across his face.
Shame, perhaps.
Good.
“You walked into a private Moretti meeting with financial intelligence no outsider should possess.”
“So you humiliated me.”
“I misjudged you.”
“You enjoyed it.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised her.
“I was angry that someone had entered my room under false pretenses.”
“I was serving wine.”
“You were listening.”
“I was also being paid minimum wage.”
Clara cleared her throat.
Everyone looked at her.
“This family reunion is terrible.”
Silas looked toward the ceiling.
Vincenzo almost laughed and then apparently remembered the situation.
Alessandro looked at Clara.
“You are?”
“Clara Torres.”
Her chin lifted.
“Gabriel’s other daughter.”
Something softened in Alessandro’s expression.
Not enough.
He turned back to Serafina.
“My father is at Villa Moretti. If he confirms this, you will have your answer.”
“Not if you control the conversation.”
“You think I would threaten a dying man?”
“I met you four hours ago.”
“Fair.”
That answer irritated her because it was reasonable.
They drove to Villa Moretti through rain that had begun turning to sleet.
The house overlooked the harbor from a cliff outside San Bellagio.
Not a mansion.
A fortress pretending to be one.
Inside, the air smelled of beeswax, medicine, and old stone.
Vittorio Moretti lay in a bedroom facing the sea.
Serafina had seen photographs of him for years.
None prepared her for how small illness had made him.
His face had thinned.
One hand rested uselessly against the blanket.
A nurse whispered that he had been lucid for twenty minutes that afternoon.
Nothing since.
Alessandro stood beside the bed.
For the first time, he looked less like a mafia boss and more like a son.
“Papa.”
Vittorio’s eyelids moved.
Slowly, his gray eyes opened.
They found Alessandro first.
Then Serafina.
Everything changed.
Vittorio’s fingers jerked against the sheet.
“Elena.”
Serafina stopped breathing.
“No.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Serafina.”
Alessandro went completely still.
Vittorio knew her.
Not vaguely.
Not because Vincenzo had explained.
He knew her face.
Serafina stepped closer.
“Did you know my mother?”
His mouth trembled.
“Yes.”
“Were you my father?”
A sound came from Alessandro.
Pain disguised as breath.
Vittorio looked at him.
Then back to Serafina.
“I gave you nothing.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I gave you nothing because Gabriel gave you everything.”
Her throat tightened.
“Was he my father?”
Vittorio’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Serafina’s anger rose.
“Biologically.”
The old man closed his eyes.
“No.”
Clara grabbed Serafina’s arm.
Alessandro sat down.
Nobody spoke.
Vittorio looked toward the ceiling.
“Elena and I were foolish.”
His voice was weak but clear.
“Once.”
Serafina almost laughed at the absurdity of reducing her existence to one word.
“Gabriel knew?”
“Before he married her.”
“And he still married her?”
“Yes.”
Vittorio smiled faintly.
“Gabriel was better than both of us.”
That hurt because Serafina believed it.
“Why didn’t you claim me?”
“Because Elena asked me not to.”
“And the forty million?”
“Mine.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“Why hide it?”
“Because money was the only thing I knew how to give from a distance.”
Alessandro stood.
“You gave her forty million euros.”
Vittorio turned toward his son.
“Yes.”
“And never told me I had a sister.”
“I was protecting—”
“Don’t.”
The word came from both Alessandro and Serafina.
They looked at each other.
For one strange second, the resemblance was obvious.
Not their faces.
Their anger.
Vittorio saw it too.
A sad smile touched his mouth.
“You even interrupt the same way.”
Serafina wanted to hate him.
It was difficult to hate a dying man who looked relieved simply because his children were standing in the same room.
Not impossible.
Just difficult.
“Did you know someone was moving the trust?”
“Yes.”
“Vincenzo says you told him to.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
Vittorio’s eyes sharpened.
“Emilio.”
Alessandro looked toward Silas.
His uncle again.
“What about him?”
“My brother found the trust papers after my first stroke.”
Vittorio struggled for breath.
“He said blood outside the name was dangerous.”
Serafina’s stomach tightened.
“Meaning me.”
“Yes.”
“He wanted the money?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
“What did he want?”
“You erased.”
The room chilled.
Clara’s fingers tightened around Serafina’s.
Vittorio continued.
“Vincenzo divided the money so Emilio could not find it.”
“Why not tell Alessandro?”
The old man looked ashamed.
“Because I did not know which men around him still belonged to Emilio.”
Silas stiffened.
Alessandro’s expression became unreadable.
“You didn’t trust me.”
“I trusted you.”
Vittorio’s eyes moved to the men around the bed.
“I did not trust your throne.”
That landed.
Serafina looked at Silas.
“Gabriel thought someone used Silas’s access codes.”
Vittorio closed his eyes briefly.
“Emilio.”
Silas went rigid.
“You knew?”
“Suspected.”
“My men died because those routes were exposed.”
“I know.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I had a stroke.”
Silas’s anger collapsed into something uglier.
Vittorio lifted his good hand.
“Gabriel discovered Emilio was moving weapons through our legitimate shipping.”
“So Emilio killed him.”
Vittorio looked toward Serafina.
“I believe so.”
“Believe?”
“I ordered Gabriel to come here.”
Her pulse jumped.
“The day he died?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“Three.”
The meeting he never reached.
“What was he bringing?”
“Proof.”
“Where is it?”
“I never received it.”
Another secret remained open.
Vittorio looked toward Alessandro.
“There is something else.”
“No more.”
Alessandro sounded exhausted.
“There is always something else.”
Vittorio almost smiled.
“Your mother used to say that.”
He looked at Serafina.
“Gabriel did not only administer the trust.”
“What else did he do?”
“He held voting rights.”
Alessandro frowned.
“Voting rights in what?”
“The legitimate Moretti holding company.”
Silence.
Serafina stared at the dying man.
“Why?”
Vittorio’s answer came slowly.
“Because I never wanted Emilio to inherit if you failed.”
Alessandro’s eyes hardened.
“What does Serafina have to do with that?”
Vittorio looked between his children.
May you like
Then said the sentence that changed both their futures.
“Half my controlling shares belong to her.”
