Chapter 5
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## THE BETRAYAL THAT CAME FROM HOME
Luca aimed at his father's chest.
"One more lie, and I'll put you in the ground myself."
Anthony Moretti smiled without warmth.
"You've inherited my temper but none of my patience."
"You let me bury an empty coffin."
"I gave you a chance to survive."
"You stole my wife."
"I kept your family alive."
Luca stepped closer.
"Where is Isabella?"
"Not here."
"Where?"
Anthony tapped his cane against the stone floor.
"Somewhere your enemies cannot reach her. At least, that was the plan."
Luca glanced at Vanessa.
She looked as though she might collapse.
Anthony continued.
"Three years ago, Isabella discovered that someone inside our organization was selling information to a rival family. She found the accounts, the names, the payments. She also discovered that your father had been keeping records of every illegal operation he'd ever financed."
"And you were afraid she'd expose you."
"I was afraid she'd expose everyone. Including you."
"I didn't know about those operations."
"Perhaps. But the authorities would have made that distinction only after destroying your business, your freedom, and your daughter's life."
"So you staged my wife's death?"
"I arranged an escape."
"You let me grieve for three years."
Anthony's eyes narrowed.
"Grief made you cautious. It made you stronger. It made you less likely to trust the wrong people."
Luca laughed bitterly.
"You call that love?"
"No. I call it survival."
Vanessa suddenly stepped between them.
"Stop it. Both of you."
Anthony turned on her.
"You've done enough damage."
"You promised me he would never find out."
"I promised you nothing."
Luca seized his father's coat.
"Who ordered the hit?"
Anthony's face became serious.
"The person who financed the operation is still close to you. Someone who knows your security systems, your schedules, and every weakness in your household."
"Give me a name."
"I don't have proof."
"Then why should I believe you?"
"Because the same person who arranged Isabella's disappearance tried to kill me eight months ago. My car went over a ravine. They found enough blood to convince everyone I was dead. I survived because the driver was loyal to me."
Luca stared at him.
"Who was driving?"
"Your security director."
The dead director.
Luca understood why the records had been altered. Why the security footage had vanished. Why the attack had occurred during his wedding.
Someone had inherited the director's access.
Someone inside the estate.
Anthony handed him a folded document.
"Here are the account numbers Isabella found. The original records are hidden somewhere in this house. Find them before your enemy does."
Luca took the paper but kept his weapon raised.
"And Isabella?"
"She was moved last night."
"By whom?"
Anthony hesitated.
"That is what I need you to discover."
Luca's patience snapped.
He grabbed his father and shoved him against the wall.
"You expect me to work with you after everything you've done?"
"No," Anthony said. "I expect you to do what I never could. Protect your daughter without turning her into a weapon."
For the first time, the old man's voice sounded tired.
Then a gunshot rang out.
Anthony jerked.
Blood spread across his shirt.
Luca caught him before he hit the floor.
Vanessa screamed and ducked behind a stone pillar.
Luca fired toward the staircase.
A figure disappeared into the darkness.
"Marco!" Luca shouted into his phone. "Lock down the cemetery!"
He pressed his hand against his father's wound.
Anthony's breathing became shallow.
"Listen to me," the old man whispered. "The person you need to fear isn't the one who wants the business."
"Save your strength."
"They want Sophie."
Luca bent closer.
"Why?"
Anthony gripped his wrist with surprising force.
"Because your daughter inherited something Isabella hid before she disappeared."
"What did she hide?"
Anthony's eyes shifted toward Vanessa.
She stood frozen, staring at the blood on the floor.
Then Anthony whispered his final words.
"Ask the child what her mother put inside the butterfly."
His hand went limp.
Luca stared at his father.
For the second time in his life, Anthony Moretti was dead in front of him.
May you like
But this time, the blood was real.
And somewhere in the darkness above the crypt, the person who had fired the shot was already running toward the estate.
