Chapter 8 - A Family Built on Lies
The police arrived before Leo could leave the hospital.
Two detectives interviewed him in a private consultation room while another officer questioned Mia. She explained the shooting, the warehouse, and Greg's appearance at the scene.
She did not hide anything.
But she also knew how the evidence would look.
Leo's gun had been recovered from the warehouse. Greg's body had been discovered in a parked car several miles away, killed by a single gunshot. The weapon matched the caliber of Leo's firearm.
Leo's fingerprints were on it because it was his.
The detectives were unconvinced.
“We'll need you to remain available,” one told him.
Leo smiled without humor.
“Detective, I've been available for thirty-eight years. People usually regret it.”
Mia closed her eyes.
“Leo.”
He stopped.
The detective looked between them and left the room.
Within an hour, Vincent had arranged for independent forensic testing and obtained the security footage from the warehouse road. The footage showed Greg arriving with armed men, but the camera angle failed to capture the actual shooting.
Someone had also erased several minutes from the warehouse's internal recording system.
It was becoming clear that the attack had been planned by someone who understood Leo's security network.
That evening, Isabella arrived at the hospital.
She wore a black dress and carried a leather folder.
Leo rose from his chair.
“You have five minutes.”
“I need three.”
She looked at Mia.
“I owe you an apology.”
Mia crossed her arms.
“For what? The cryptic warnings? The family secrets? Or the part where your father's men tried to kill us?”
Isabella flinched.
“My father didn't send those men.”
“Then who did?”
“I don't know. But I believe Greg was working for someone inside the family.”
Leo's voice was cold.
“You'll forgive me if I find that convenient.”
Isabella opened the folder.
Inside were bank records, copies of correspondence, and photographs of Greg meeting a man outside a downtown office building.
The man wore a long coat and carried a silver-topped cane.
Leo recognized the cane immediately.
His grandfather had owned one exactly like it.
“Where did you get these?” he asked.
“My father kept them in a safe. He was investigating the trust before he died.”
“Why didn't you come to me?”
“Because I believed you would protect the family name instead of exposing what it had done.”
Leo's expression hardened.
“You don't know me as well as you think.”
“No,” Isabella said. “I don't.”
She turned to Mia.
“Your mother was trying to protect you from someone who believed the trust belonged to him. Greg was only a pawn. The person directing him has been dead for months—or so we thought.”
Mia felt a chill.
“What does that mean?”
Isabella placed a final photograph on the table.
It showed a man standing beside Vittorio Castiglione outside the warehouse, years before Mia was born.
The man was Daniel Sullivan.
Beside him stood a younger version of Leo's father.
And in the background, partially obscured by a vehicle, was someone else.
A woman with blond hair.
Isabella pointed to her.
“My mother.”
Leo stared at the photograph.
“Your mother was there?”
“She told me she had never met Daniel. But this picture proves otherwise.”
Mia examined the image more closely.
On the back, someone had written a date and a short message.
The night the first agreement was made.
“What agreement?” Mia asked.
Isabella shook her head.
“I don't know. But I found a letter in my father's safe. He wrote that the original trust was not simply an inheritance. It was designed to prevent one person from controlling the family's legitimate businesses and the criminal organization at the same time.”
Leo's eyes narrowed.
“Who was supposed to hold that power?”
“The child of Elena and Daniel.”
Mia stared at her.
“Me?”
Isabella nodded.
“Your mother believed the only way to stop the family from destroying itself was to give the legal authority to someone outside the syndicate. Someone who could refuse to cooperate.”
Leo looked at Mia, understanding dawning across his face.
The trust was not merely money.
It was a safeguard.
A legal mechanism capable of separating the Castiglione family's legitimate businesses from the criminal empire built around them.
And Mia was its intended beneficiary.
For the first time, Leo seemed afraid of what protecting her might mean.
“If she claims the trust,” he said slowly, “the entire family structure could collapse.”
Mia met his gaze.
“Then maybe it should.”
Before he could answer, Isabella's phone vibrated.
She read the message and went white.
“What is it?” Mia asked.
Isabella turned the screen toward them.
A photograph showed Arthur Bellini sitting in a chair, his hands bound behind him.
Beneath it was a message.
Bring the original trust documents to the old family residence by midnight. Come alone, or Arthur dies.
Mia stood.
“We're going.”
Leo shook his head.
“Absolutely not.”
She looked at him with tears in her eyes.
“Arthur is the only person who can help me understand what happened to my parents. I'm not abandoning him.”
Leo held her gaze.
May you like
Then he reached for his coat.
“Neither am I.”
