Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT ISABELLA REMEMBERED
I reached the therapy wing in less than thirty seconds.
The hallway lights had been switched to emergency mode.
Two guards stood outside Isabella’s safe room.
One had blood running down his arm.
“Where is she?”
“Inside.”
“Emma?”
“Inside.”
“Sophia?”
Behind me, Sophia shouted, “Here.”
I entered.
Isabella was crying.
Emma sat beside her on the floor, holding her hand.
Nathan had pushed the therapy table against the window.
“What happened?” I demanded.
“A shot hit the outer frame,” Nathan said. “Nobody’s hurt.”
I dropped beside my daughter.
She threw both arms around my neck.
“Papa.”
“I’m here.”
“Was that Uncle Marco?”
The question stopped me.
“No.”
Not the bullet.
Everything else?
I didn’t know how to answer yet.
Emma touched Isabella’s shoulder.
“Your papa is shaking.”
I was.
I held Isabella tighter.
Behind me, Marco appeared in the doorway with two guards aiming weapons at him.
Nathan stared.
“What is he doing here?”
I stood.
“Take the children into the bathroom.”
“No,” Isabella said.
“Bella.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“Everybody keeps making me leave when secrets happen.”
The words sliced through me.
I looked at her.
Six years old.
Three years spent having adults make decisions around her.
Doctors.
Nurses.
Me.
Marco.
Enough.
I crouched.
“You deserve the truth.”
Marco whispered, “Matteo.”
I turned.
“Shut up.”
Isabella stared at him.
“Did you hurt Mommy?”
Marco’s face collapsed.
No one had told her.
Children do not need complete evidence to understand a room.
He stepped forward.
A guard blocked him.
“Princess—”
“Don’t call her that.”
Marco looked at me.
Then Isabella.
His eyes filled.
“I did something terrible.”
Isabella’s fingers tightened around mine.
“What?”
Marco swallowed.
“I was angry at your papa.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted what he had.”
“That’s stupid.”
A broken laugh escaped Nathan.
Marco almost smiled.
“Yes.”
“It was.”
Isabella continued.
“Did you hurt Mommy?”
“I didn’t mean for her to be in the car.”
My blood roared.
“You knew before it happened.”
Marco looked at me.
Silence.
I grabbed him by the jacket.
“Did you know?”
“Seventeen minutes.”
“What?”
“I found out seventeen minutes before.”
Sophia covered Emma’s ears.
Marco’s voice shook.
“Rico called. Said Elena had taken your sedan.”
“You could have stopped it.”
“Yes.”
“You had seventeen minutes.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He looked at me.
And for the first time, my brother had no defense.
“Because stopping it meant exposing myself.”
Something inside me died.
Elena had died because Marco valued secrecy more than her life.
Isabella whispered, “Mommy was awake.”
Everyone turned.
“What?” I asked.
Her face had gone pale.
“She was awake after.”
My heartbeat stopped.
“After the crash?”
She nodded.
Memories were moving through her.
Fragments trapped behind trauma.
“Mommy was on the floor.”
I crouched.
“Bella, you don’t have to—”
“Yes.”
She started crying.
“I remember.”
Nathan knelt nearby.
“Slowly.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
“The window broke.”
“Yes.”
“Mommy’s face had blood.”
My chest broke.
“Somebody opened my door.”
She looked at Marco’s hand.
The lion ring.
Her entire body stiffened.
“That.”
Marco covered the ring.
Too late.
“The lion.”
I whispered, “You saw Marco?”
“He touched my face.”
Marco began crying.
Isabella stared at him.
“Mommy said your name.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘Marco, please help her.’”
Silence.
I looked at my brother.
His face had become gray.
“What did you do?”
“I pulled Isabella out.”
The confession came quietly.
“You were at the crash.”
“Yes.”
I nearly fell.
For three years, Marco told me he arrived at the hospital after hearing from police.
He had actually been at the scene.
“Why?”
“I was waiting nearby for confirmation.”
“Confirmation that I was dead.”
“Yes.”
Sophia looked sick.
Isabella continued.
“Mommy gave me a book.”
Marco’s eyes snapped toward her.
I saw it.
“What book?”
“Black.”
Elena’s ledger.
Rosa’s copy had photographs.
The original had never been found.
Isabella touched the front of her sweater.
“She put it in my coat.”
I turned to Marco.
“You took it.”
He said nothing.
I crossed the room.
“Did you take the ledger from my three-year-old daughter while my wife was dying?”
“Yes.”
The word barely existed.
I hit him.
Once.
His head snapped sideways.
The guards moved.
I stopped myself.
Marco wiped blood from his lip.
“Again.”
“What?”
“Hit me again.”
“No.”
“You should.”
“No.”
His eyes filled.
“I deserve it.”
“Probably.”
I looked at Isabella.
“But she deserves better than watching us become animals.”
Elena had spent her last day trying to prevent a Moretti war.
I would not start one in front of her daughter.
Nathan led Isabella through breathing exercises.
Emma crawled onto the bed beside her.
Marco sat against the wall.
Handcuffed now.
I questioned him there because I refused to leave Isabella again.
“Why Caruso?”
Marco stared at the floor.
“After the crash, you were hunting everyone.”
“Yes.”
“You stopped sleeping. You almost executed three Serrano men who weren’t involved.”
My jaw tightened.
“Answer.”
“Isabella became the only thing that could redirect you.”
My body went cold.
He continued.
“Caruso said her injury might be incomplete.”
Isabella looked at him.
“You knew?”
Marco closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Three years of hope stolen.
Three years.
“What did you tell him?”
“To change it.”
Sophia gasped.
Isabella’s face went blank.
“Why?”
Marco looked at her.
“Because your papa needed to stop asking questions.”
I stepped forward.
Nathan blocked me.
“Matteo.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are very visibly not fine.”
Marco continued.
“I told Caruso to make the prognosis hopeless. Not to hurt her. He was supposed to treat her.”
“You stopped referrals.”
“Yes.”
“Boston?”
“Yes.”
“Zurich?”
“No. But I influenced what records they saw.”
My fists closed.
“Every specialist began with a lie.”
“Yes.”
“Could she have recovered sooner?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathan’s voice became cold.
“She may have lost a major rehabilitation window.”
Marco lowered his head.
Isabella started crying.
I went to her.
“Papa, did he make me like this?”
“No.”
I held her face.
“The crash hurt your spine.”
“But he made it worse?”
I looked at Nathan.
He answered carefully.
“We don’t know how much earlier treatment would have changed things.”
Isabella looked at Marco.
“You lied about my legs.”
“Yes.”
“Because you didn’t want Papa asking questions.”
“Yes.”
She wiped her face.
“That’s mean.”
Marco broke.
Not the controlled tears of a man trying to appear remorseful.
His shoulders folded.
He covered his face.
“I know.”
Emma stared at him.
Then whispered to Isabella, “I don’t like him.”
Marco heard.
He laughed through tears.
“Good.”
I stood.
“Where is Elena’s original ledger?”
Marco looked up.
“Rico has it.”
My stomach tightened.
“You gave it to him?”
“No. He stole it from me six months after the crash.”
“Why didn’t he expose you?”
“He was involved.”
“How deeply?”
“More than me in some things.”
A phone rang.
Sophia’s.
She looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Her face changed immediately.
I took the phone.
“Who is this?”
Rico D’Angelo laughed.
“Matteo.”
I had known Rico twenty years.
Tonight his voice sounded unfamiliar.
“You shot at my house.”
“A warning.”
“You missed.”
“I wasn’t trying to hit anyone.”
“Then you’re losing your touch.”
He laughed again.
“Marco talking?”
I looked at my brother.
“Yes.”
“Bad choice.”
“For him or you?”
“For everybody.”
A message arrived on Sophia’s phone.
A photograph.
Rosa’s old apartment.
The cedar trunk was gone.
Rico had taken it after we left.
Then another photograph.
Dr. Victor Caruso.
Alive.
Tied to a chair.
I stared.
“You have Caruso.”
“Found him before you did.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
“What do you want?”
“Elena’s charm.”
I looked at the crescent in my hand.
“Why?”
“Because your wife hid more in it than a photograph.”
My pulse changed.
“What?”
Rico laughed.
“Ask Marco.”
I looked at him.
His face had gone white.
Rico continued.
“Midnight tomorrow. Pier Nine. Bring Marco, the charm, and no army.”
“What do I get?”
“Caruso.”
“Not enough.”
A pause.
Then Rico said, “Maybe this is.”
A child cried in the background.
I froze.
Not Isabella.
Emma.
I turned.
The bed beside Isabella was empty.
Sophia screamed.
“Emma?”
The window to the attached bathroom stood open.
A security breach.
My heart stopped.
Rico spoke softly.
“Bring what I asked for.”
Sophia collapsed against the wall.
“Mommy!”
Emma’s voice screamed through the phone.
Then the line died.
I looked at Marco.
He whispered, “Rico has tunnels under the east service wing.”
“What?”
“Old Prohibition routes. Father sealed most.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
I grabbed him.
“You knew and said nothing?”
“I forgot.”
I slammed him against the wall.
“Remember now.”
Marco stared at me.
Then at Sophia sobbing on the floor.
Something changed in his face.
“I can get her back.”
I almost killed him for saying it.
Instead, I released him.
“Then you will.”
Because for the first time since Elena died, my brother’s life was worth something to me again.
Not because I loved him.
May you like
Because Emma Rossi was three years old.
And I would burn every secret Marco had left before I allowed another child to pay for the sins of Moretti men.
