Chapter 7 - THE PINK RIBBON
For eleven seconds, I believed Mia had been taken.
Eleven seconds was long enough to understand how Elena had felt for three months.
I was moving toward the door when Rocco's radio crackled.
"Mr. Duca, we found her."
I stopped so suddenly that Vivien nearly collided with me.
"Where?"
"With Mrs. Isabella. In the garden room."
I closed my eyes.
Then opened them again.
"Keep them there."
Rocco turned toward the corridor.
I followed.
Vivien remained behind.
I didn't care.
The garden room sat at the rear of the estate, facing the old rose garden.
My mother was on the sofa.
Mia sat beside her, eating apple slices from a small plate.
She looked up when I entered.
"Uncle Lorenzo!"
I crossed the room and lifted her into my arms.
She laughed.
"Too tight."
I loosened my embrace.
"Sorry, sweetheart."
She touched my face.
"Why sad?"
I looked at her.
"No reason."
She frowned.
"Mommy says tell truth."
Despite everything, I smiled.
"You're right."
I kissed her forehead.
"I was worried about you."
She pointed toward the windows.
"Grandma showed me flowers."
My mother rose carefully.
"Lorenzo, what happened?"
I showed her the pink ribbon.
Her expression darkened.
"That was on Mia's hair this morning."
"Who removed it?"
Isabella looked at the child.
"Mia?"
Mia shrugged.
"Doctor man."
The room went silent.
I crouched.
"What doctor man, sweetheart?"
"The one with shiny shoes."
My mother gripped the back of the sofa.
"Adrian."
Mia nodded.
"He said pretty ribbon."
I kept my voice calm.
"Did he hurt you?"
She shook her head.
"Just took bow."
That was enough.
Adrian had approached Mia inside my own home, removed something from her hair, and used it to make us believe she had been kidnapped.
He had not needed to take the child.
He had only needed to prove he could reach her.
I handed Mia back to Isabella.
"Rocco, nobody enters this house without your approval. No exceptions."
"Understood."
"And Adrian Bellini is no longer permitted on the property."
Rocco nodded.
Then I looked at my mother.
"Do you feel strong enough to come with me tonight?"
Her eyes widened.
"Where?"
"The foundation."
She stared.
"Lorenzo—"
"I need you there. Not because I expect you to confront Carlo. Because you've been carrying this alone for too many years."
She looked at Mia.
Then back at me.
"I'll come."
But Elena had a different reaction when I told her what happened.
She stood in the upstairs sitting room with Mia pressed against her chest.
"You said she'd be safe."
Her voice was quiet.
That made it worse.
"I know."
"You promised."
I looked at the little girl.
She had buried her face against her mother's shoulder.
"Elena, she's safe now."
"Because we were lucky!"
I didn't answer.
Elena's eyes filled.
"For three months, I've been told that if I didn't obey, something would happen to my daughter. And you wanted to wait. Investigate quietly. Pretend everything was normal."
I felt every word.
"You're right."
She blinked.
"What?"
"You're right. I should have made different arrangements the moment Mia brought me upstairs."
Elena's expression crumpled.
"I'm not trying to be disrespectful."
"I know."
"I'm trying to keep my child alive."
I nodded.
"Then we're going to change how this works."
She looked at me warily.
"You and Mia can leave this estate tonight. Rocco will arrange a secure place of your choosing, with independent protection. Or you can stay. Whatever you decide, your employment and your daughter's safety won't depend on pleasing me."
Elena stared at me.
"You're giving me a choice?"
"One you should have had all along."
She looked down at Mia.
The little girl was playing with a button on her mother's blouse.
After a long moment, Elena whispered, "I want to stay with Isabella until this is over."
"Then that's what we'll do."
"And I want to know everything about my mother's trust."
"You will."
She nodded.
But her eyes remained guarded.
Trust was not repaired because a powerful man finally offered to behave decently.
It had to be earned.
At six-thirty, I arrived at the Duca Foundation headquarters.
Rocco came with me.
So did Isabella.
Vivien was already there.
She stood near the conference table, looking as if she hadn't slept in days.
Adrian sat beside her.
His expression hardened when he saw my mother.
"Isabella, you shouldn't be out this evening."
My mother lifted her chin.
"I decide where I go."
He smiled thinly.
"Your health—"
"Is no longer your concern."
I almost reached for her hand.
But I didn't.
She deserved that moment to belong to her.
Stephen Vale stood near the far window.
He had his father's eyes.
The resemblance was unmistakable now that I knew what to look for.
"Mr. Duca," he said. "I appreciate your attendance."
"Don't."
His smile vanished.
I sat at the head of the table.
"Where's Carlo?"
Nobody answered.
Then a door opened near the conference room.
An elderly man entered with the aid of a cane.
His hair was white.
His shoulders were narrow.
But his eyes were sharp.
Carlo Bellini.
I recognized him immediately from the photographs.
Vivien made a small sound.
It was the first time she'd seen him in person since the supposed funeral.
"Papa?"
He looked at her without warmth.
"Vivien."
She took one step forward.
He raised his hand.
"Sit down."
She obeyed automatically.
I watched.
The man had been absent for fifteen years.
But he still knew exactly how to make his daughter feel like a frightened child.
Carlo sat opposite me.
"Lorenzo Duca."
"Carlo Bellini."
He smiled.
"Your father and I were old friends."
"My father didn't speak fondly of you."
"Dead men are rarely generous."
I placed the ledger on the table.
His expression changed slightly.
"Where did you find that?"
"Somewhere you weren't supposed to reach."
Stephen shifted.
I turned toward him.
"Your real name is Stefano Bellini."
He said nothing.
"And your trust documents contain fabricated claims."
Carlo laughed softly.
"Careful, Lorenzo. Accusations are expensive."
I leaned forward.
"So are threats against children."
Vivien began crying silently.
Adrian looked toward the door.
Carlo's face remained composed.
"Children?" he asked. "What children?"
"Mia."
He looked toward Vivien.
"Is that the little girl?"
She nodded faintly.
Carlo sighed.
"Adrian, I told you not to involve the child."
I watched Adrian's expression.
For the first time, uncertainty crossed his face.
"You approved the leverage."
"I approved pressure on the beneficiary. Not a three-year-old."
I studied Carlo.
Was he telling the truth?
Or simply making sure someone else carried the blame?
Then he opened a leather portfolio.
"Enough."
He placed a sheet of paper in front of me.
"Your father's companies owe mine a considerable sum."
"Based on forged guarantees."
"That's for a court to decide."
"And the trust?"
"A settlement arrangement."
I shook my head.
"Elena's inheritance is not yours."
Carlo leaned closer.
"Your father gave her control over assets he took from me."
"Assets connected to exploited workers."
His expression hardened.
"Your father destroyed my life."
"Your choices destroyed it."
Silence.
Then Carlo reached into his portfolio again.
He removed an old photograph.
It showed my younger brother Matteo standing beside a dark blue car.
My heart stopped.
Matteo had died in a traffic accident eleven years earlier.
Carlo slid the photograph toward me.
"I think we should discuss your brother."
I stared at him.
"What about Matteo?"
Carlo placed another photograph on the table.
It showed Matteo speaking with Sofia.
The date was two weeks before his death.
I looked up.
"Where did you get this?"
Carlo's smile disappeared.
"Your brother was trying to find the ledgers."
My pulse hammered.
"And?"
Carlo looked at Isabella.
"Ask your mother why Matteo drove to the old railway road that night."
My mother turned white.
I looked at her.
"Mother?"
She began shaking her head.
Carlo tapped the photograph.
May you like
Then he delivered the cruelest sentence I'd heard in years.
"Your brother wasn't on that road by accident, Lorenzo. Someone sent him there."
