Chapter 3 - THE THIRTY-THREE MINUTES THAT STOLE HIS FATHER'S LIFE
“YOU LET THEM PHOTOGRAPH MY FATHER WHILE HE WAS UNCONSCIOUS?”
Stefano pushed back his chair so hard it struck the hospital wall.
Teresa flinched.
Julia stepped between them.
“Mr. Moretti. Please.”
Stefano stared at his mother.
For eight years, he had believed Lorenzo Moretti died shortly after suffering a sudden heart attack.
Anthony had told him the ambulance arrived as quickly as possible.
He had repeated that story at the funeral.
He had even thanked his uncle publicly for trying to save his father.
Now he was holding a photograph that made everything look different.
“Mom,” he said, struggling to control his voice, “why didn't you call the ambulance yourself?”
“I tried.”
“What stopped you?”
Teresa looked toward the door.
“Anthony took my phone.”
Silence filled the room.
Julia felt a chill.
Stefano slowly sat down.
“Tell me everything.”
Teresa closed her eyes.
“Your father came home early that evening. He was furious about money Anthony had moved from the trust.”
She remembered Lorenzo standing in the study, pulling papers from a desk drawer.
Anthony had followed him inside.
Veronica was already there.
“She was young,” Teresa whispered. “Maybe twenty-six. Anthony said she was his assistant.”
Stefano looked at the photograph again.
His father had always kept the family care trust's accounts under strict supervision.
He personally reviewed major expenses.
He remembered Lorenzo sitting at the kitchen table on Sunday evenings, balancing figures with an old fountain pen.
“What did Dad discover?”
“Payments to companies that weren't providing the services they claimed.”
“Did he confront Anthony?”
“Yes.”
Teresa swallowed.
“He told Anthony he was removing him as trustee.”
Stefano's hands tightened.
“And then?”
“Anthony said doing that would freeze payments to hundreds of families. He said your father needed to sign temporary authority for him to correct the problem.”
“Dad refused?”
“At first.”
Teresa looked ashamed.
“Then he started having chest pains.”
Stefano's expression changed.
“He was having a heart attack.”
“I didn't know that yet.”
“But Anthony did?”
“He knew something was terribly wrong.”
She looked toward the window.
“I begged him to get help. He said Lorenzo was being stubborn and making himself sick.”
Julia stood beside the bed.
“What did Veronica do?”
Teresa hesitated.
“She looked frightened. I remember her asking Anthony whether they should stop.”
“And?”
“He told her to keep quiet.”
Stefano studied the young woman's face in the photograph.
For the first time, he wondered whether Veronica had originally been pulled into Anthony's scheme rather than creating it herself.
That didn't excuse poisoning Teresa.
But it meant the truth might be more complicated than he wanted.
“Then your father fell,” Teresa continued.
“Did Anthony call for help?”
“Not immediately.”
“How long?”
“I remember looking at Lorenzo's watch.”
Stefano glanced up.
Teresa's face crumpled.
“It had fallen from his wrist when he struck the desk. The glass was cracked. The hands had stopped.”
“What time?”
“Nine fourteen.”
Stefano remembered the silver watch.
His father had worn it every day.
After the funeral, Teresa had kept it in her bedroom.
He hadn't seen it in years.
“The ambulance records,” Stefano said suddenly.
Teresa looked confused.
“What?”
“They would have recorded the call.”
Twenty minutes later, Marcus returned with information from the hospital's records coordinator.
Because Stefano was Lorenzo's son and had been involved in settling his father's estate, he had access to some of the old records.
But the emergency dispatch details would require a formal request.
Marcus had located the original emergency department paperwork among the records Teresa had saved.
Stefano read the first page.
Lorenzo Moretti.
Male.
Sixty-four.
Cardiac arrest.
Then he found the line he wanted.
Emergency services contacted: 9:47 p.m.
He stared at it.
Nine fourteen.
Nine forty-seven.
Thirty-three minutes.
Stefano looked at his mother.
“Thirty-three minutes.”
Teresa began crying.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“I knew it was too long. I didn't know exactly how long.”
Stefano covered his face.
Thirty-three minutes.
His father could have received medical attention during that time.
There was no guarantee Lorenzo would have survived.
But Anthony had taken away the chance.
Stefano stood and walked to the window.
Outside, traffic moved along the hospital entrance.
People were going home.
Families were arriving with flowers.
The world continued as though nothing had changed.
But for Stefano, eight years of grief had just been rearranged.
He had blamed himself for being away on business the night his father died.
He had accepted Anthony's comforting explanation.
He had trusted the wrong man.
Julia followed him into the corridor.
“Mr. Moretti?”
He didn't turn.
“You should go home, Julia.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Because I don't think you should be alone right now.”
He looked at her.
For a moment, the powerful man who commanded an entire criminal organization looked like a boy who had lost his father all over again.
“I thanked him,” Stefano whispered.
“Who?”
“Anthony. At my father's funeral.”
Julia said nothing.
“I stood in front of two hundred people and thanked the man who delayed getting my father help.”
“You didn't know.”
“I should have.”
“How?”
Stefano had no answer.
Julia looked toward Teresa's room.
“Your mother believed him, too.”
“That doesn't make it easier.”
“No. But it means he knew exactly how to use the people who trusted him.”
Stefano studied her.
Earlier that afternoon, Julia had stood trembling beneath Veronica's accusations.
Now she was comforting him.
“Why aren't you angry?” he asked.
Julia gave a sad smile.
“I am.”
“Then why are you being kind to me?”
“Because you're not the person who poisoned your mother.”
The words struck him harder than he expected.
He reached for his phone.
“Marcus, I want Anthony's access to the estate suspended. All accounts he controls need to be reviewed by independent forensic accountants.”
Then he paused.
“And find Veronica.”
By evening, Teresa's condition had improved enough for her to speak longer.
Stefano returned with Julia.
On the bedside table lay the silver watch.
Teresa had asked a nurse to retrieve it from a small velvet pouch in her handbag.
The glass remained cracked.
Its hands still showed 9:14.
Stefano picked it up carefully.
His father had once taught him how to wind it.
Never force the crown, son. A good watch needs patience.
Stefano felt his throat tighten.
Teresa noticed.
“Your father wanted you to have it.”
“Why did you keep it?”
“Because I couldn't bear to give you something that reminded me of what I let happen.”
Stefano sat beside her.
“You didn't cause his heart attack.”
“But I signed something that night.”
He looked up.
“What?”
Teresa reached for the burgundy folder.
“There was another page.”
She removed a photocopy.
“This one gave Anthony emergency authority over the trust if your father became unable to manage it.”
Stefano studied the document.
His father's signature appeared at the bottom.
Beneath it was Teresa's.
“You signed it?”
She nodded.
“Anthony told me the care payments would stop if I didn't.”
Stefano looked at the date.
October 18.
The night Lorenzo died.
“But you could have challenged it afterward.”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
Teresa's eyes filled.
“Anthony showed me a second agreement. He said your father had approved transactions that might expose you to a financial investigation.”
Stefano frowned.
“Me?”
“He threatened to turn over those papers unless I kept quiet.”
Stefano leaned closer.
“What papers?”
Teresa shook her head.
“I never saw the originals.”
Julia noticed something on the copied authorization.
The same name appeared repeatedly in the attached payment schedule.
Bennett.
She leaned forward.
“Mrs. Moretti, may I see that page?”
Teresa handed it over.
Julia read the address.
An old apartment in South Philadelphia.
Her childhood home.
Her face went pale.
“Julia?” Stefano asked.
She pointed to a line near the bottom.
It listed a family approved for long-term care assistance.
BENNETT, BENJAMIN.
Julia could barely speak.
“That's my brother.”
Stefano stared at the page.
“Your brother was connected to my father's trust?”
Julia nodded slowly.
“But I didn't know it.”
Teresa closed her eyes.
“Julia, there's something I should have told you when I hired you.”
Julia looked up.
Teresa took a shaky breath.
“I didn't first learn your name when you applied for the housekeeping job. Your father-in-law's family had nothing to do with it. Lorenzo himself had asked me to look after the Bennett children.”
Julia went still.
May you like
Because her own father had died when she was nineteen.
And she had never known he had any connection to the Morettis.
