Chapter 4 - THE LIE ISABELLA KEPT FOR SIX YEARS
Vincent watched the recording three times.
Each time hurt more.
Isabella entered the study.
She opened the hidden compartment.
A man appeared.
She embraced him.
And then those words.
Vincent can never know what we did.
Vincent handed the phone back to Michael.
“Everyone out.”
Catherine started to speak.
“Vincent—”
“Out.”
Something in his voice ended the argument.
Daniel and Victoria followed Catherine.
Michael hesitated.
Vincent nodded.
Michael left.
Only Vincent and Isabella remained.
She stood near the window.
Vincent did not look at her.
“Who was he?”
“Vincent—”
“Name.”
“Samuel Reed.”
Vincent knew the name.
An accountant.
His father’s accountant.
A man who disappeared shortly after Antonio died.
Vincent turned.
“Samuel Reed?”
“Yes.”
“You told me you never met him.”
“I lied.”
“Clearly.”
Her face tightened.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Everybody keeps saying that tonight.”
“It’s true.”
Vincent laughed without humor.
“My family humiliates you because they’re protecting something. My brother steals because he has debts. My mother hides my father’s murder because she thinks I’m becoming him. And now my wife lies to me for six years because she was protecting me.”
He looked at her.
“Apparently everybody loves me so much they forgot to tell me the truth.”
Isabella’s eyes filled.
“You left.”
The words stopped him.
“You left, Vincent.”
“I came back.”
“Six years later.”
“I called.”
“You called.”
Her voice broke.
“You sent flowers. Money. Jewelry. Guards. You sent people to tell me you loved me.”
She stepped closer.
“But you weren’t here.”
Vincent had no answer.
“I woke up alone every morning wondering whether that would be the day someone called and told me you were dead.”
“Isabella—”
“No. You wanted truth.”
She wiped her eyes.
“Here it is.”
Three months before Antonio died, he had asked Isabella to meet Samuel Reed.
Antonio suspected money was disappearing from the family organization.
Not thousands.
Hundreds of millions.
Accounts had been opened under shell corporations.
Properties transferred.
Judges paid.
Officials bribed.
But Antonio’s concern was not theft.
It was who controlled the network.
“Your father believed someone was building a second organization inside his own,” Isabella said.
“Who?”
“He didn’t know.”
“So he involved you?”
“He said nobody watched me.”
Vincent frowned.
“They watched you.”
“Not then.”
She smiled sadly.
“Back then, I was just the girl you married.”
The words hurt.
“Father trusted you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t a Moretti.”
Vincent understood.
Blood was exactly what made his family vulnerable.
Antonio had trusted an outsider because everyone underestimated her.
“What did he ask you to do?”
“Keep one thing safe.”
“The ledger?”
“No.”
“What?”
Isabella looked at him.
“A key.”
Vincent remembered the brass key inside Antonio’s watch.
“That key?”
“No.”
His expression changed.
“There’s another?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You kept it safe but don’t know where it is?”
“Because I gave it to someone.”
Vincent’s patience tightened.
“Who?”
“Samuel.”
“And Samuel disappeared.”
“He was supposed to.”
Vincent stared.
“You helped him disappear.”
“Yes.”
The embrace in the recording suddenly made sense.
Not lovers.
Two terrified people saying goodbye.
“What did he take?”
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Your father’s investigation.”
Vincent walked toward the window.
Chicago glittered beyond the grounds.
For six years, he had built an empire believing he understood the foundations beneath it.
Apparently he understood nothing.
“Why couldn’t you tell me?”
“Because Antonio made me promise.”
“My father was dead.”
“The promise wasn’t to him.”
Vincent turned.
“To whom?”
“To you.”
He frowned.
Isabella walked toward the desk.
“Antonio believed you would react exactly the way you’re reacting now.”
“Meaning?”
“You would go after whoever killed him.”
“Yes.”
“And you would destroy yourself doing it.”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
Silence.
“Samuel was supposed to return when it was safe.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Then he’s dead.”
“I thought so.”
“Thought?”
Isabella reached into the pocket of her simple dress.
She removed a folded piece of paper.
“I received this three days ago.”
Vincent opened it.
A handwritten message.
The king is coming home. Tell him the clock has started. — S
Vincent read it twice.
“Samuel is alive.”
“I think so.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone.”
“Look what happened tonight.”
Fair.
Vincent handed the note back.
“Where was it delivered?”
“My bedroom.”
“Our bedroom.”
She looked at him.
“It hasn’t felt like ours for a long time.”
Another wound.
Vincent accepted it.
He deserved that one.
“Isabella.”
“Yes?”
“Why were you washing dishes?”
She seemed surprised by the question.
“We’re discussing murder and stolen money.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because I need to understand what happened to my wife.”
Her expression softened slightly.
Then disappeared.
“It began with little things.”
Catherine removed Isabella from household financial accounts.
Victoria dismissed staff loyal to her.
Daniel began hosting parties without asking.
When Isabella protested, Catherine told everyone Vincent had privately authorized the changes.
“I didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“Why did you believe her?”
“Because you stopped discussing home.”
Vincent remembered the calls.
How are you?
Fine.
Is the house okay?
Yes.
Do you need anything?
No.
He had mistaken short answers for peace.
“I should have asked more.”
“Yes.”
The simplicity of her answer cut deeper than accusation.
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“Because this was your home.”
“It was yours.”
“Not according to them.”
“It is now.”
Isabella shook her head.
“I don’t want ownership, Vincent.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
One word.
Six years of distance collapsed into it.
Vincent stepped closer.
She continued.
“But I don’t know if the man who came home tonight is the same man I waited for.”
Vincent lowered his eyes.
“Neither do I.”
For the first time that night, Isabella reached for him.
Her fingers touched his.
Then Michael burst through the door.
“Boss.”
Vincent turned.
Michael rarely looked shaken.
Now he did.
“We found the source of the security breach.”
“Who?”
“It wasn’t Victoria’s laptop.”
Michael placed a device on the desk.
An old communications terminal.
Vincent recognized it immediately.
His father’s private encrypted system.
“It activated tonight,” Michael said.
“From where?”
“Inside the estate.”
“Who accessed it?”
“We’re tracing that.”
The screen suddenly lit.
A message appeared.
HELLO, VINCENT.
Another line followed.
YOU FINALLY FOUND THE SAFE.
Vincent typed.
WHO ARE YOU?
The reply came instantly.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHO WAS REALLY IN ROOM 317.
Vincent looked at Isabella.
Then another message appeared.
YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT TOMORROW. BRING THE WATCH TO UNION STATION. COME ALONE.
A photograph loaded.
Vincent stopped breathing.
A man sat tied to a chair.
Older now.
Gray-haired.
But Isabella recognized him instantly.
“Samuel.”
He was alive.
Then the camera widened.
Someone else was tied beside him.
A teenage girl.
Isabella covered her mouth.
Vincent looked at her.
“You know her?”
Tears filled Isabella’s eyes.
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
Isabella stared at the screen.
“Samuel’s daughter.”
Vincent frowned.
May you like
Then Isabella said the words that made the room go silent.
“And she’s your father’s granddaughter.”
