Chapter 9 - Lorenzo refused to believe it.He demanded proof.
Anthony gave him a location.
An old convent forty miles north of Kingston.
A sealed chapel.
A hidden archive.
Inside were boxes filled with photographs and letters.
Lorenzo searched for hours.
Then he found a photograph.
His mother.
Standing beside Vincent.
But the date was fifteen years old.
Vincent looked exactly the same.
Lorenzo's stomach tightened.
“Impossible.”
Rachel took the photograph.
“People age.”
“Not that much.”
There were more.
Vincent beside his father.
Vincent beside Claire.
Vincent beside Isabella.
Always appearing.
Always watching.
Always in the background.
Lorenzo suddenly realized what frightened him.
Vincent had not risen through the DeLuca organization.
He had been inside it before Lorenzo even understood its structure.
Rachel found a letter.
It was written by Isabella.
Lorenzo read.
I know who is pulling the strings.
Vincent is only the hand.
The real architect has access to my husband.
Someone who knows Lorenzo's family history.
Someone who knows how every security system works.
Someone who can move money without being noticed.
Someone who has been waiting for years.
The letter ended with one line.
I think his mother may still be alive.
Lorenzo dropped the page.
Rachel stared at him.
“You knew her?”
“My mother died when I was five.”
“Who told you?”
“My father.”
“Did you ever see the body?”
Lorenzo went silent.
No.
He had never seen it.
He had attended a closed funeral.
His father had said the accident had destroyed her face.
Suddenly, the pattern was terrifying.
Closed coffin.
Falsified records.
A body identified by paperwork.
Lorenzo had seen it before.
He just had not recognized it.
The same trick had been used on Isabella.
Rachel's phone rang.
She answered.
Then looked up.
“We found something at Saint Matthew's.”
“What?”
“A hidden room beneath the altar.”
Inside was a surveillance archive.
Photographs of Lorenzo.
Year after year.
His childhood.
His school.
His wedding.
His business meetings.
Isabella's pregnancy.
Sophia.
Emma.
Everyone had been watched.
Rachel lifted one photograph.
Emma was six months old.
The date was three years earlier.
“How could they know her then?”
Lorenzo stared.
“They knew Sophia before she came to work here.”
A second file contained a list titled:
FAMILY ASSETS.
Lorenzo.
Isabella.
Sophia.
Emma.
And one final name.
Unlisted.
Mother.
Lorenzo's heart raced.
Then they heard footsteps.
Mason shouted from the hallway.
“Someone's here!”
Gunfire erupted.
Lorenzo dropped behind the stone wall.
Rachel returned fire.
Three guards rushed forward.
A figure moved across the chapel.
Black coat.
Short hair.
Lorenzo's heart stopped.
“Isabella!”
The woman froze.
She looked at him.
Green eyes.
Scar near her temple.
It was her.
But instead of running toward him, she raised a gun.
Not at the attackers.
At Lorenzo.
The room went silent.
“Isabella?”
Her hand trembled.
“I told you not to come.”
Lorenzo slowly stood.
“Put the gun down.”
“You shouldn't have found me.”
“I buried you.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I had no choice.”
“Then tell me now.”
She stared at him.
“Your mother is alive.”
Lorenzo felt the floor disappear beneath him.
“Where?”
“Closer than you think.”
Suddenly Isabella's gaze shifted past him.
Her face went pale.
“Lorenzo...”
“What?”
“She found us.”
A woman's voice echoed through the chapel.
“Hello, son.”
Lorenzo turned.
A woman stepped from the shadows.
Older.
Silver hair.
Elegant black coat.
Still wearing the pearl earrings he remembered from childhood.
Lorenzo stared.
His mother.
Alive.
May you like
She smiled.
“You finally came home.”
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