Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF A BROTHER’S LIFE
“No,” Vincent said.
He stared at the receipt in Emma's hand.
“Isabella didn't pay to kill Thomas.”
Nobody answered.
Emma looked at the signature.
It was familiar.
Isabella had signed employee schedules, household expense approvals, and holiday bonus checks for years.
Emma knew her handwriting.
The name on the receipt matched.
“She signed this,” Emma whispered.
Daniel looked stricken.
Elias closed his eyes.
Vincent stepped toward him.
“You knew?”
Elias hesitated.
“I suspected.”
“Did Daniel know?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not until tonight.”
Emma stared at the receipt.
Four years.
Four years of grief and struggle.
Four years of telling Noah his father loved him, even though he couldn't come home.
And now the woman who had humiliated her little boy might have paid for Thomas's death.
Emma felt something inside her go still.
She folded the receipt.
“I want the police to see this.”
Vincent nodded.
“Of course.”
She looked at him.
“And I want your sister questioned.”
Vincent's face tightened.
“Yes.”
Daniel stood.
“Emma, wait.”
She turned.
“What?”
“The receipt doesn't prove Isabella ordered Thomas killed.”
Emma stared.
“Her name is on it.”
“Yes. But Leonard used company accounts. He moved money through several people.”
“Are you defending her?”
“No.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Daniel looked at Vincent.
“I'm saying Leonard Price has spent twenty-six years making other people look responsible for his decisions.”
Elias nodded slowly.
“Antonio taught him how.”
Vincent looked at the receipt again.
It was signed by Isabella.
But the payment description could have been added afterward.
He remembered the warehouse authorization carrying his own signature.
The same pattern.
A document designed to make somebody else responsible.
“Where is Leonard?” Vincent asked.
Marco checked his phone.
“He's at the Ward Foundation's headquarters. Police have been informed.”
Vincent turned to Elias.
“You employed him.”
Elias nodded.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I believed keeping him close would help me discover what happened to Maria and Thomas.”
“And instead, he learned everything you were doing.”
Elias lowered his head.
“Yes.”
For the first time, Vincent saw something familiar in the older man's face.
A man convinced that he could control danger by keeping it close.
Just as Vincent had done for years.
Just as Antonio had done before him.
Emma stepped away.
“I need to go back to Noah.”
Vincent nodded.
“I'll take you.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“I need a little time without another Moretti explaining what somebody else did for my protection.”
Vincent absorbed the words.
Then said quietly, “Understood.”
A police officer accompanied Emma to the waiting car.
Daniel watched her leave.
“She has every reason to hate us.”
Vincent looked at his brother.
“Yes.”
Daniel sat down.
“I thought staying dead would keep the family safe.”
Vincent's voice hardened.
“You didn't keep anyone safe. You left us to live inside your lie.”
Daniel lowered his head.
“I know.”
Vincent sat opposite him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Vincent asked, “Why did you meet Noah?”
Daniel looked up.
“Because he was the only connection I had left to Thomas.”
“You could have come to me.”
“I was afraid you'd turn me over to Price.”
Vincent stared.
“You really thought that?”
Daniel swallowed.
“I thought you'd believe Antonio's people over me.”
The answer hurt because Vincent couldn't immediately deny it.
Three years earlier, he had still been defending Antonio's reputation.
He had trusted Leonard Price.
He had trusted the warehouse documents.
And he hadn't questioned the official story of Daniel's death.
“I'm sorry,” Vincent said.
Daniel looked startled.
Vincent continued.
“I should have known you well enough to doubt what they told me.”
Daniel wiped his eyes.
“I should have trusted you enough to come home.”
It wasn't forgiveness.
Not yet.
But it was the first honest conversation the brothers had shared in years.
Vincent stood.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“To face Isabella.”
They returned to the estate shortly after midnight.
Emma was sitting beside Noah's bed.
The boy slept with his school backpack beside him.
She had tried to move it to the closet.
He'd woken up and asked her not to.
“I want to know where my things are,” he'd whispered.
Emma had nearly cried.
Now she sat watching his breathing.
A gentle knock came from the open doorway.
Vincent stood there.
“May I come in?”
Emma nodded.
He looked at Noah.
“Is he okay?”
“He'll be okay when he believes nobody can accuse him of something he didn't do.”
Vincent nodded.
“I spoke with the police. The bracelet footage has been preserved. Isabella's accusation was false, and they'll have the evidence.”
Emma looked down at her son.
“Thank you.”
Vincent hesitated.
“Isabella is downstairs. I need to confront her about the receipt.”
Emma stood.
“I'm coming.”
“Emma—”
“She's accused my son of stealing. And now her name is connected to my husband's death.”
Vincent stepped aside.
Together, they went downstairs.
Isabella stood near the fireplace.
Daniel entered behind Vincent.
When Isabella saw him, she covered her mouth.
“Danny.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Hello, Bella.”
She crossed the room.
For a moment, she seemed about to embrace him.
Then she stopped.
“You shouldn't have come here.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Price knows.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“We know about the payment.”
Isabella went pale.
“What payment?”
Emma held up a photograph of the receipt.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. For Thomas Collins.”
Isabella stared.
Then she shook her head.
“No.”
Vincent's voice hardened.
“Your signature is on it.”
“I signed a payment authorization for a protection service.”
Emma stared.
“What protection?”
“Thomas came to me four years ago. He said someone was following his family.”
Emma's breath caught.
Isabella continued.
“He asked for help moving Emma and Noah somewhere safe.”
“Why didn't he tell me?” Emma whispered.
“He planned to. He wanted the arrangements ready first.”
Vincent looked at the receipt.
“Who arranged the protection?”
“Leonard Price.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Isabella began crying.
“I thought he was still loyal to us.”
Vincent spoke slowly.
“You gave Price two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”
“Yes. I transferred it from my trust account.”
“And Thomas died afterward.”
Isabella nodded.
“Three days later.”
Emma pressed a hand against the mantel.
The room seemed to tilt.
Isabella stepped toward her.
“Emma, I didn't know.”
“Stop.”
Isabella froze.
“Don't tell me you were trying to protect him.”
Tears ran down Isabella's face.
“I was.”
Emma shook her head.
“Then why didn't you come to me after he died?”
“Because Price told me the money had been stolen. He threatened to show Vincent evidence that I'd been funding Daniel's investigation.”
“So you stayed quiet.”
“Yes.”
“And then you accused my son of being a thief.”
Isabella sobbed.
“I thought if you left the estate, Price would stop watching Noah.”
Emma looked at her with exhausted disbelief.
“You keep making decisions about my child without asking me.”
Isabella lowered her head.
“I know.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“Isabella, give me your phone and your access cards.”
She looked up.
“Vincent?”
“You're no longer managing this household or any family account.”
Her expression crumpled.
“You're removing me?”
“Until we understand everything, yes.”
She nodded slowly.
Then reached into her pocket.
As she placed her access card on the table, a small envelope slipped from her sweater.
Daniel recognized the handwriting immediately.
“Where did you get that?”
Isabella froze.
The envelope was addressed to Maria Moretti.
The return address belonged to Thomas Collins.
Emma stared.
“My husband wrote that?”
Isabella nodded.
“He gave it to me the week before he died.”
“Why didn't you deliver it?”
“Because it wasn't meant for Maria.”
Vincent frowned.
“Maria had been dead for years.”
Isabella looked at him.
“That was Thomas's way of saying the letter concerned her.”
Emma took the envelope.
Inside was a single page.
Thomas had written:
If anything happens to me, do not let Vincent believe Elias is responsible. The person protecting Leonard Price is someone Vincent loves. Someone who has been beside him every day.
Emma looked up.
Vincent stood motionless.
Daniel slowly turned toward Marco.
Marco stared at the floor.
Then Thomas's final sentence became visible.
Ask Marco why he changed the emergency exit records on the night of the fire.
Vincent looked at his security chief.
Marco's face drained of color.
May you like
And before anyone could speak, Marco whispered:
“I changed them because Daniel asked me to.”
