Chapter 4 - THE MAN LEON BURIED
“I didn’t bury Daniel Carter.”
Leon said it to Evelyn first.
Not Marco.
Not Isabella.
Evelyn.
She stood between him and Sophie’s bed, one arm around her daughter.
“Then what does it mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“That answer isn’t good enough anymore.”
She was right.
Leon examined the photograph.
Daniel looked older than in Marco’s picture.
Thinner.
Gray at the temples.
But unmistakably alive.
The estate gates were visible behind him.
The timestamp printed along the bottom was three days old.
Sophie peered from beneath her mother’s arm.
“Is that Daddy?”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Is he coming home?”
The room went quiet.
Evelyn crouched.
“I don’t know, baby.”
Sophie studied the photograph.
Then she pointed.
“That’s not our gate.”
Leon looked closer.
She was right.
The ironwork was similar, but the Moretti crest was reversed.
A mirrored image.
Marco leaned over his shoulder.
“That’s the old estate.”
Leon looked at him.
His father had owned a second property in Westchester before selling it fourteen years earlier.
Or supposedly selling it.
“Who owns it now?”
Marco hesitated.
“A holding company.”
Leon’s voice hardened.
“Whose?”
“I never traced it.”
“You’re my consigliere.”
“It predates you taking control.”
Leon pulled out his phone and ordered a title search through one of his legitimate property attorneys.
Then he turned to Evelyn.
“What does the message mean to you?”
“Nothing.”
“Evelyn.”
She stared at the photograph.
“Daniel used to say people like your father buried things without using dirt.”
“Money?”
“Names. Records. People’s lives.”
Leon remembered something.
A fire.
Fifteen years earlier, one of his father’s warehouses had burned.
Three men died.
A fourth body had been found so badly burned that identification came through personal effects.
Leon had been twenty-four.
His father made him handle the burial.
The dead man’s name had been Anthony Bell.
Leon froze.
Bell.
Bella.
He looked toward Isabella.
“What was your mother’s maiden name?”
Her face changed.
“Bellini.”
Marco swore.
Leon’s memory sharpened.
Anthony Bell had worn a Saint Christopher medal.
Or at least, the body buried as Anthony Bell had.
Leon looked down at the medal Sophie found.
“Daniel switched identities.”
Marco understood immediately.
“The warehouse body.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“No.”
“Daniel knew he was being hunted,” Leon said. “If he put his identification on another body—”
“He would let us believe he was dead?”
Her voice broke.
“For seven years?”
Leon had no answer.
Evelyn turned away, furious tears appearing now.
“He left me with a baby and four hundred dollars.”
Sophie watched her.
Leon lowered his voice.
“Not here.”
Evelyn wiped her face.
“Yes. Not here.”
That restraint hurt more than shouting.
An hour later, Sophie was asleep in Leon’s mother’s suite with two trusted guards outside.
Downstairs, Leon received the property search.
The old Moretti estate belonged to Bellweather Holdings.
Registered twelve years earlier.
The original authorized signatory was Daniel Carter.
Evelyn sat down.
“He was alive.”
Nobody corrected her.
Isabella stood by the fireplace.
“This is why I started investigating.”
Leon looked at her.
“You knew Daniel?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“My mother kept letters from Matteo.”
That name again.
“She gave them to me before she died. Most were ordinary. One mentioned Daniel.”
Isabella removed a folded page from her purse.
Leon recognized his brother’s handwriting before touching it.
Matteo had written:
If Sal ever learns what Daniel found, the boy will disappear the way I did.
Leon read it twice.
“The boy?”
Marco looked away.
Leon noticed.
“You know.”
Marco said nothing.
“Who was Matteo talking about?”
“Leon—”
“Who?”
Marco finally looked at him.
“You.”
The room seemed to narrow.
According to Marco, Matteo had not vanished because he wanted the Moretti money.
He had discovered that their father was using legitimate businesses to wash funds for men far more dangerous than the Moretti family.
Matteo wanted out.
Salvatore considered that betrayal.
Daniel helped Matteo disappear.
Years later, Daniel discovered the same financial network was still active.
“And my father?” Leon asked.
“Spent the rest of his life trying to find Matteo.”
Leon looked at Isabella.
“So you weren’t stealing my empire.”
“No.”
“What did you mean by ‘ours’?”
She swallowed.
“I was performing for whoever retrieved the recordings.”
“Why call Marco darling?”
A strange expression crossed her face.
“Because whoever was listening already believed Marco and I were having an affair.”
Leon stared at her.
“You deliberately made it believable.”
“Yes.”
“That was your plan?”
“A bad one.”
“At least we agree on something.”
For the first time, Isabella looked ashamed rather than defensive.
“I thought if the person believed I was betraying you, they’d approach me.”
“And instead you actually betrayed my trust.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
That mattered more than Leon wanted it to.
A security officer entered.
“Mr. Moretti.”
He carried an evidence bag.
Inside was a torn piece of cream fabric.
Isabella’s coat.
“Where?”
“Outside Sophie’s window.”
Everyone looked at Isabella.
She stared at it.
“That isn’t possible.”
Leon remembered the photograph left on Sophie’s pillow.
Someone had entered a guarded estate.
Someone wanted Isabella blamed.
Then Sophie appeared in the doorway, rubbing one eye.
Evelyn hurried toward her.
“Sweetheart, why are you awake?”
“I heard people.”
Sophie looked at the fabric.
Then at Isabella.
“That’s not Miss Bella’s.”
Isabella blinked.
Sophie pointed.
“Her coat has a red button inside.”
Leon picked up the fabric.
No red button.
Sophie continued sleepily.
“The other lady had that coat.”
Leon went still.
“What other lady?”
“The lady who looks like Miss Bella.”
Nobody moved.
Sophie yawned.
“She came here when Miss Bella was gone.”
Leon crouched.
“When?”
“Lots.”
“And what did she call herself?”
Sophie shook her head.
“She didn’t tell me.”
Then she pointed toward the old photograph of Matteo and Daniel.
“She told him.”
May you like
Her finger was not pointing at Daniel.
It was pointing at Matteo Moretti.
