Chapter 11 - Richard Vale had represented the DeLuca family for forty years.He had prepared wills.
Managed trusts.
Handled acquisitions.
Protected secrets.
He had also been buried twelve years earlier after a heart attack.
Another closed coffin.
Another convenient death.
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
“You're saying he's alive?”
She nodded.
“Or someone is using his identity.”
Rachel was silent.
Then she checked her database.
“No active death certificate.”
“What?”
“The record was sealed.”
“By whom?”
She searched.
Then looked up.
“Your father.”
Lorenzo stared.
His family had been creating false deaths for generations.
The distinction between dead and alive had become nothing more than paperwork.
They returned to the estate through the underground tunnel.
Mason secured every entrance.
The encrypted files were transferred to a forensic lab.
Lorenzo finally sat with Isabella alone.
For the first time, there was no police.
No guards.
No enemies.
Just them.
“You should have told me,” he said.
“I tried.”
“Not enough.”
“I was watched.”
“I would have protected you.”
She looked at him.
“You couldn't protect someone you thought was already dead.”
Lorenzo lowered his gaze.
“I buried you.”
“I know.”
“I spoke to your grave every night.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I heard your voice.”
“What?”
“The first week.”
Lorenzo looked up.
“When?”
“At the farmhouse.”
She closed her eyes.
“I heard the church bells every Sunday.”
She touched his hand.
“I knew you were mourning.”
He could barely speak.
“I thought you were gone.”
“I thought you would come for me.”
“Why didn't you call?”
“Because Vincent told me what he'd do to Sophia and Emma.”
Lorenzo squeezed her hand.
“They were never supposed to be safe by themselves,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“Emma saw something.”
“What?”
“Something from the night of the crash.”
Lorenzo froze.
“She wasn't there.”
“No.”
“Then what could she have seen?”
Isabella hesitated.
“Before the crash, she saw Claire talking to a man.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Emma was three?”
“No.”
“Then she was not even born?”
“She saw him later.”
“When?”
“The day after the crash.”
Rachel entered the room.
“We found something.”
Lorenzo stood.
“What?”
“The blood from the church.”
“Isabella's?”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“It belongs to two people.”
“Who?”
Rachel handed him the report.
One sample was Isabella's.
The second matched Claire Donnelly.
Lorenzo frowned.
“Claire died in the crash.”
“That's what we thought.”
Rachel pointed to the dates.
“This blood was left in the church four days ago.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Claire is alive.”
Silence.
Then Isabella's face changed.
“No.”
“What?”
“She was alive.”
“When?”
“After the crash.”
“Then where is she now?”
“I don't know.”
Suddenly, Mason rushed in.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We intercepted a message.”
“To whom?”
“Vincent.”
Lorenzo's heart tightened.
“What does it say?”
Mason handed him a phone.
One sentence.
THE WOMAN FROM THE CHURCH IS MOVING TONIGHT.
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
“Which woman?”
Isabella whispered:
“Claire.”
They mobilized immediately.
The location was a train depot near the river.
Exactly the kind of place Isabella had described.
Lorenzo remembered Emma's words.
Behind the old train station.
They searched the depot.
Nothing.
Then Bruno began barking.
He ran toward an old freight container.
Mason opened it.
Inside was a woman.
Alive.
Weak.
Bandaged.
Claire Donnelly.
She looked at Lorenzo.
“Isabella was right.”
“What?”
Claire struggled to sit up.
“Vincent wasn't the one who ordered the crash.”
“Who did?”
Claire looked beyond him.
Her face went pale.
“Your father.”
Lorenzo stared.
“My father was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
Claire began to cry.
“He's dead now.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“How?”
Claire whispered:
“Vincent killed him.”
Rachel stepped forward.
“Why?”
“Because Enzo changed his mind.”
“About what?”
Claire looked at Lorenzo.
“He wanted to tell you the truth.”
Lorenzo's heartbeat accelerated.
“What truth?”
Claire's voice fell to a whisper.
“Your father didn't start the operation.”
“Then who did?”
Claire looked at Isabella.
Isabella shook her head.
She already knew.
Lorenzo asked again.
“Who?”
Claire's lips trembled.
“The person who taught your father everything.”
A shadow moved behind the container.
A man stepped into the light.
Richard Vale.
Alive.
May you like
He smiled.
“It's good to finally meet the son.”
