Chapter 14 - THE WOMAN IN THE SECOND PHOTOGRAPHLucia stayed one night.
Then two.
On the third morning she asked to see everything Giovanni had kept.
There were birthday photographs.
School records.
A newspaper clipping from Lucia’s college graduation.
Her medical-school announcement.
Her wedding photograph.
Lorenzo stared at the collection.
“You knew all of this?”
Giovanni nodded.
Lucia looked sick.
“You watched me.”
Giovanni typed:
FROM FAR.
“You knew when I married Thomas.”
Yes.
“When Adrian was born?”
Yes.
Lucia's eyes sharpened.
“You know my son?”
Yes.
“Has he ever met you?”
No.
“Good.”
The word hurt him.
Nora noticed.
Lucia picked up another photograph.
This one showed Elena Carbone in front of a small white house.
The date on the back was 1992.
Five years after Elena supposedly died.
Lucia frowned.
“Where did you get this?”
Giovanni typed:
SAMUEL.
Lorenzo looked up.
“Samuel Creed?”
Yes.
Samuel Creed had been the Moretti family’s attorney for almost thirty-five years.
He had converted dozens of Giovanni’s companies into legitimate corporations.
He had negotiated Lorenzo’s cooperation agreement.
He had structured the Moretti Foundation.
He had attended Nora and Lorenzo’s wedding.
Lily called him Uncle Sam.
Lucia asked:
“Why was your lawyer watching my mother?”
Giovanni typed:
NOT WATCHING. PAYING.
Silence.
“Paying her what?”
Giovanni answered:
PROTECTION MONEY.
Lorenzo frowned.
“Through what account?”
Giovanni indicated the safe again.
Another folder.
This one contained transfers to something called the Saint Gabriel Trust.
Twenty thousand dollars.
Thirty-five thousand.
Forty thousand.
Every year.
Then the payments stopped.
Lucia looked at Giovanni.
“My mother died in 1998.”
Yes.
“For real.”
Yes.
“Cancer.”
Giovanni nodded.
Lucia stared at the trust documents.
“Why did the money continue afterward?”
Everyone froze.
Lorenzo took the pages.
Lucia was right.
Payments continued.
Then increased dramatically.
By 2018, more than forty-two million dollars had moved through Saint Gabriel.
Lorenzo stared.
“This wasn't for Lucia.”
Giovanni’s face changed.
No.
“Then what was it?”
Giovanni began typing.
RESTITUTION.
Nora frowned.
“For whom?”
FAMILIES.
“Whose families?”
Giovanni looked at Lorenzo.
Then at Nora.
Then typed:
PEOPLE WE HURT.
Nobody spoke.
The Moretti Foundation had not been Giovanni’s first attempt to make amends.
Decades earlier, he had created a secret compensation fund.
For widows.
Children.
Business owners.
Families displaced or destroyed by Moretti operations.
Lorenzo whispered:
“You were paying victims.”
Yes.
“How much?”
Giovanni typed:
ENOUGH. NEVER ENOUGH.
Lucia stared at him differently.
Not forgiving.
But listening.
Lorenzo turned another page.
His expression changed.
“Papa.”
Giovanni looked up.
“The account didn't stop when you had your stroke.”
No.
“It increased.”
Yes.
“Who controlled it?”
Giovanni slowly pointed at one name.
Samuel Creed.
Nora felt cold.
Lorenzo looked toward the door.
“Call Samuel.”
Giovanni’s hand struck the table.
Hard.
No.
He typed two words.
DON'T WARN.
Then:
AUDIT FIRST.
Lorenzo stared.
“You don't trust him?”
May you like
Giovanni's answer came immediately.
NOT ANYMORE.
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