Chapter 7 - The Mother Who Was Supposed to Be DeadAleandro did not speak for several seconds.
The woman's breathing was faintly audible.
“Laura Bennett died six years ago,” he finally said.
“That's what your father wanted people to believe.”
“My father died twelve years ago.”
“Yes,” she replied. “But his arrangements survived him.”
Aleandro stood.
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere your sister can't reach me.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because Emily is in danger, and you are still looking in the wrong direction.”
He gripped the phone.
“Then tell me where to look.”
“Ask Isabella what happened to the original Northbridge trust.”
“What trust?”
“The one your father established using money stolen from the medical foundation.”
Aleandro frowned.
“Northbridge Medical?”
“Not originally. It began as a charitable trust meant to pay for children injured by contaminated industrial waste.”
Aleandro felt his stomach tighten.
His father's shipping company had operated near several industrial sites along the river.
“What does Emily have to do with it?”
Laura's voice trembled.
“Everything.”
The line went dead.
Aleandro immediately called Marco.
“Trace that call.”
“We're trying, boss.”
“Find Isabella.”
“We have a possible location.”
“Where?”
“A private estate near Lake Geneva.”
Aleandro looked toward the hospital corridor.
Emily was finally sleeping.
He wanted to tell her everything.
But the caller had given him no proof of identity, and he refused to drag her into another dangerous confrontation based on suspicion alone.
Instead, he called Margaret.
“Did Laura ever mention a medical trust?”
Margaret was silent.
Then she said, “Yes.”
Aleandro sat down.
“Tell me.”
Margaret explained that Laura had worked as an independent forensic accountant investigating the disappearance of funds from a charitable trust established after a chemical spill in the early 1990s.
Hundreds of families had been promised medical assistance.
Many had received nothing.
Laura discovered that money had been diverted through shell companies connected to Vittorio Bellini.
She intended to expose the scheme.
Then she received threats.
“She came to me terrified,” Margaret said. “She said someone inside the Bellini family was helping conceal the transfers.”
“Isabella.”
“That's what we believed.”
Aleandro closed his eyes.
“Why didn't she go to the police?”
“She did. The detective assigned to her case was Daniel Mercer.”
“The man who supposedly died.”
“Yes.”
Margaret's voice became unsteady.
“Two weeks after Laura disappeared, Mercer was killed in a car bombing.”
Aleandro looked at the photograph on his desk.
Victor Sloane.
The man who resembled Mercer.
“Someone is using Mercer's identity to frighten witnesses.”
“Why?”
“To make them think the dead are returning.”
Margaret was quiet.
Then she asked, “Aleandro, do you understand what this means?”
He did.
Someone had spent years controlling the story surrounding Laura Bennett.
And Emily had unknowingly married into the center of it.
The following morning, Emily was discharged with strict instructions to rest, attend follow-up appointments, and seek urgent medical care if symptoms returned.
She refused to return to the mansion.
Aleandro didn't argue.
Instead, he arranged for Hannah's broken window to be repaired through an ordinary licensed contractor, after asking Hannah's permission.
Emily noticed.
It was a small thing.
But for a man accustomed to commanding everything, asking permission was a change.
That afternoon, Margaret visited Emily with a sealed packet.
“I found something in my old records.”
Inside was a trust document.
Emily read the first page.
Her eyes widened.
The trust had been created in her mother's name.
Its designated successor beneficiary was Emily Bennett, later Emily Bellini.
She turned another page.
The estimated assets were staggering.
Nearly eighty million dollars.
Emily stared.
“This can't be mine.”
Margaret nodded.
“Not necessarily. It's a disputed claim. But if the original trust is valid, you may have a substantial beneficial interest.”
Emily looked up.
“And Isabella knew?”
“Apparently.”
Emily felt nauseated.
Aleandro had accused her of stealing three million dollars.
Yet his sister had apparently spent years concealing a fortune that might legally belong to Emily and the families the trust was meant to support.
Her phone rang.
Isabella.
Emily almost declined.
Then she answered.
“What do you want?”
Isabella's voice was calm.
“Congratulations, Emily. I hear you've discovered the trust.”
Emily's hand tightened.
“You knew.”
“Of course.”
“Why did you frame me?”
Isabella laughed softly.
“Because my brother was beginning to ask questions.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“And you needed him distracted.”
“Exactly.”
“Why?”
Isabella's voice lost its amusement.
“Because your mother made a mistake twenty years ago.”
“What mistake?”
“She believed the wrong person.”
Emily's pulse quickened.
“Who?”
Isabella paused.
May you like
Then whispered, “Ask Aleandro who really ordered your mother's disappearance.”
The call ended.
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