Chapter 4 - The Sister Who Came Back from the GraveI had spent six years believing my sister was dead.
Now she was standing beside a car registered to the man who had terrorized my housekeeper's child.
I stared at the photograph until the image became a blur of black coats, pale faces, and things I had never wanted to remember.
Isabella had been twenty-six when she disappeared. We had fought weeks earlier over our father's estate, and she had accused me of choosing money over family.
I told her she was being unreasonable.
She told me I would regret those words.
Three days later, her car was found burned beside a road in northern Italy. No bodies were recovered, but fragments of jewelry and a scorched purse were identified as hers. After a lengthy investigation, the authorities concluded that she had died in the fire.
My father never accepted it.
He spent the last months of his life insisting someone had taken Isabella away. I thought grief had damaged his judgment. I was busy expanding the company and protecting the inheritance he had left behind.
I never searched beyond the official investigation.
Now I wondered whether my sister had been alive all along.
"How long has this footage been sitting in your system?" I asked Marcus.
"The vehicle entered the property last night. It used an authorized security code."
"Whose?"
Marcus hesitated.
"Mr. Harland's."
Of course.
"Find the car. Quietly. I want to know where it went, but I don't want anyone contacting the occupants."
"Understood."
I returned to my study and called Adrian Cole.
He answered on the fourth ring.
"Luca. I was about to call you."
"Then save yourself the trouble. Who is Isabella?"
Silence.
Not confusion. Not surprise.
Silence.
"Where did you hear that name?" he finally asked.
"Answer the question."
"I think we should speak in person."
"You're going to speak now."
"I can't explain over the telephone."
"Then start with the property transfer you brought into my house last night."
Another pause.
"Those documents were preliminary."
"They bear my forged signature."
"I didn't forge anything."
"Then why were you meeting Harland in the laundry corridor?"
His breathing changed.
I leaned back in my chair.
"Adrian, you have represented my family for eleven years. I trusted you with my father's will. I trusted you with my sister's case. I even trusted you to advise me when I had to make decisions about his estate."
"Luca, please listen."
"No. You listen. You have one chance to tell me the truth before Marcus finds you."
Adrian lowered his voice.
"Your sister is alive."
The room seemed to tilt.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know where she is right now."
"You're lying."
"Not about that."
"Then tell me why she's working with Harland."
"She isn't working with him. She's trying to get her son back."
I stood.
"Her son?"
"Isabella had a child before she disappeared. A boy named Theo. Your father knew about him, but very few people did. After the accident, everyone believed both mother and child had died."
"Why wasn't I told?"
"Because your father asked me to keep it private until Theo was old enough to inherit."
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
"Inherit what?"
"The land your father placed in a separate trust. The northern property, the old orchard, and the charitable foundation."
My mind returned to the forged documents.
Bellweather Holdings.
The transfer before Friday.
"Why would my sister need to steal her own son's inheritance?"
"She doesn't. Harland does."
Adrian's voice cracked.
"Your father discovered that Harland had been diverting foundation money. He also suspected someone was trying to seize the northern property through a forged transfer. He prepared a new trust agreement, but before he could register it, he died."
"And you kept this information from me?"
"Your father made me promise that Theo's location would remain secret until I could prove who had arranged the accident."
I closed my eyes.
"The accident was deliberate?"
"I don't know. Isabella believes it was."
"Who does she suspect?"
"I can't tell you everything over the phone."
"You've already told me enough to ruin your career."
"Luca, please. If Harland knows you've found out about Theo, he will move him."
My stomach tightened.
"Where is the boy now?"
"I don't know."
"Then find out."
"I've been trying."
I ended the call.
For a moment, I remained motionless, listening to the faint hum of the computer.
My sister was alive.
She had a son.
And my estate manager, who had frightened a three-year-old girl into scrubbing a shirt, was somehow involved in a scheme that had begun before my father died.
Then my phone rang.
An unknown number.
I answered without speaking.
A woman's voice came through, quiet and strained.
"Luca?"
I knew that voice.
It was older, rougher, but unmistakable.
"Isabella."
She made a small sound, almost a laugh, almost a sob.
"You finally found me."
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you."
"Then tell me why Harland has your son."
She went silent.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"Isabella, I saw the photograph."
"You saw Theo?"
"Yes."
"Then you need to understand something. Harland doesn't want the land."
"What does he want?"
"The documents your father left behind."
"Which documents?"
"The original trust. The one that proves Theo owns the estate's northern property."
I glanced at the papers on my desk.
"Why does that matter?"
"Because the land is worth nearly eighty million dollars, and Bellweather Holdings has already promised it to someone else."
I felt my pulse quicken.
"Who?"
Before she could answer, I heard a door slam on her end.
A man's voice followed.
"Who are you speaking to?"
Isabella inhaled sharply.
"Luca, listen to me. Whatever happens, do not sign anything tomorrow."
"Isabella!"
A struggle erupted over the telephone.
Then a man's voice came through, calm and chillingly familiar.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Moretti."
Harland.
"You should have stayed in your study."
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Marcus rushed in seconds later.
"Sir, we found Harland's car."
"Where?"
"At the eastern gate."
"And Isabella?"
"She was seen entering the old greenhouse ten minutes ago."
My heart began pounding.
"Is anyone with her?"
Marcus looked at the security report.
"Yes, sir."
May you like
He lifted his eyes.
"Three men. And one of them is carrying a gun."
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