Chapter 8 - The Uncle Who Controlled Everything
Marco Moretti had been dead for eleven years.
At least, that was what the family believed.
Now he stood in front of us with a gun and a smile that made my skin crawl.
Alessandro slowly raised his hands.
“Put the weapon down.”
Marco laughed.
“You always did mistake obedience for intelligence.”
“You arranged the hospital attack.”
“I arranged many things.”
“Did you threaten Nerissa's sister?”
Marco's eyes moved toward me.
“Sasha is a loose end.”
My stomach dropped.
“Don't you touch her.”
“Then perhaps you should have stayed where your mother left you.”
Alessandro shifted slightly.
Marco noticed.
“Don't.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Isabella stepped forward.
“Marco, stop.”
He looked at her.
“You should have stayed hidden.”
“I've spent eighteen years watching you destroy everyone I loved.”
“You destroyed this family.”
“No,” she said. “You did.”
Marco's expression twisted.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him.
Alessandro moved.
The gun fired.
The bullet struck the fireplace.
I screamed.
Alessandro tackled Marco.
They crashed against the coffee table.
I grabbed Isabella and pulled her behind the sofa.
A second shot rang out.
Then Luca burst through the front door with two guards.
Marco was restrained within seconds.
But he was laughing.
“You think this ends here?”
Alessandro stood over him.
“Tell me where Sasha is.”
Marco smiled.
“Your little bakery girl should check her phone.”
My hands shook as I pulled it out.
Three missed calls.
A message from Sasha.
Nerissa, someone is outside the mansion. They say Alessandro sent them. Should I let them in?
I called immediately.
No answer.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Alessandro took my phone.
“Luca, call the estate.”
He spoke rapidly in Italian.
Then his expression hardened.
“Get the cars.”
We reached the mansion in twenty minutes.
The front gate was open.
One guard lay unconscious near the entrance.
The housekeeper was crying in the hallway.
“Sasha?” I screamed.
No answer.
I ran upstairs.
Her bedroom was empty.
Her schoolbag lay on the floor.
The window was open.
I saw something on the pillow.
A small silver pendant.
It was shaped like a butterfly.
Beneath it was a note.
BRING THE LEDGER TO THE OLD CHURCH. COME ALONE.
I turned toward Alessandro.
“They took her.”
He looked at the note.
“It's a trap.”
“I don't care.”
“We'll get her back.”
I grabbed his jacket.
“You promised she would be safe!”
His eyes met mine.
“I know.”
For the first time, he looked genuinely helpless.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
“Mr. Moretti. Your uncle sends his regards.”
Alessandro's expression changed.
“Marco is in custody.”
A pause.
Then the voice laughed.
“You arrested the wrong man.”
The call ended.
Luca looked at Alessandro.
“Impossible.”
I remembered the man in the lakeside house.
His limp.
His gray hair.
His voice.
“What if he wasn't Marco?”
Alessandro turned toward me.
“What?”
“What if someone was pretending to be him?”
He stared at the photograph from the hospital.
Then he noticed something.
The man standing beside my mother had a scar on his left hand.
The man we arrested had no scar.
Alessandro slowly looked at Luca.
“Who did we bring back to the mansion?”
Luca's face went pale.
“Mr. Moretti...”
A gunshot sounded from upstairs.
Then another.
The guards rushed toward the staircase.
Alessandro grabbed my hand.
“Stay behind me.”
We reached the upper hallway.
The holding room door stood open.
The man we had arrested was gone.
In his place was one of our guards, unconscious on the floor.
And written across the wall in black paint were four words:
May you like
THE REAL MARCO IS HOME.
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