Chapter 4 - THE ENVELOPE MY MOTHER HID FOR TWENTY YEARS
My mother had died three years earlier.
Cancer.
Seven months from diagnosis to funeral.
There are some griefs that become quieter without becoming smaller.
Hers was like that.
Even after Lila was born, my first instinct had been to call her.
Now I sat in a fortified medical room with Nico and Vincent while a twenty-year-old secret connected my dead mother to the Moretti family.
“Start at the beginning,” Nico said.
I ignored the command in his voice.
Apparently he noticed, because his expression changed.
“Please.”
Better.
I shifted Lila against my chest.
“When I told Mom I was pregnant, she cried.”
Vincent almost smiled.
“She always liked babies.”
“You knew her?”
He looked at me.
“Briefly.”
That wasn't an answer.
I waited.
Vincent sighed.
“Your mother, Evelyn Bennett, worked for Vittorio Moretti.”
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
“She was an accountant.”
“She worked for Mercer Financial.”
“Which handled legitimate Moretti assets in the nineties.”
I stared at him.
My mother had hated organized crime.
At least, I thought she had.
“She never told me.”
“She left before you were ten.”
“Why?”
Vincent looked toward Nico.
Nico shook his head.
“I don't know this part.”
That surprised both of us.
Vincent sat.
“Vittorio discovered someone was stealing from the family.”
“Who?”
“His oldest son.”
Nico's father.
Alessandro Moretti.
Nico went completely still.
Vincent continued.
“Not small amounts. Tens of millions. Alessandro was moving legitimate assets through shell companies, planning to cut Vittorio out.”
Nico's mouth hardened.
“My father hated Vittorio.”
“The feeling was mutual.”
“Why involve Ava's mother?”
“Because Evelyn found it.”
I remembered my mother balancing her checkbook every Sunday.
Never missing a penny.
Always saying numbers didn't lie; people did.
Vincent continued.
“Vittorio trusted her because she wasn't family.”
“That sounds unlike him.”
“He didn't trust her. He trusted the fact that she disliked all of us equally.”
Despite myself, I almost laughed.
That sounded like my mother.
“What did she do?”
“She helped Vittorio restructure the legitimate holdings into the succession trust.”
“For Nico?”
“For whoever came after Alessandro.”
Nico leaned back.
“So my father couldn't steal it.”
“Correct.”
“And the key?”
Vincent looked at me.
“Vittorio gave Evelyn one half of the authentication document.”
“One half?”
“The other half remained with the family attorney.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted no Moretti to have complete control.”
I looked at Lila.
“My mother had half the key for twenty years?”
“Yes.”
“And gave it to me without telling me any of this?”
“She probably thought ignorance was safer.”
I looked at Nico.
He winced.
“Apparently everyone in our lives suffered from the same disease.”
For the first time since Bellario's, I almost smiled at him.
Almost.
“What happens if Matteo has it?”
“Nothing immediately,” Vincent said. “He needs the attorney's half.”
“Who has that?”
“Gerald Shaw.”
I knew that name too.
Family attorney.
Seventy-two.
Bow ties.
Terrible jokes.
“Nico,” I said.
He was already dialing.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Vincent stood.
“I'll send someone to his house.”
“No.”
Nico's voice had changed.
“Why?” Vincent asked.
“Because Matteo expects that.”
He looked at me.
“What exactly did your mother's envelope look like?”
“Cream-colored. Wax seal. My name on the front.”
“Did Matteo ever see it?”
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
I closed my eyes.
Nursery dresser.
The envelope had been beneath newborn socks.
Three weeks earlier, Matteo had helped Nico install a wall safe in the nursery because Nico insisted important documents should be within reach during an emergency.
I had laughed at him.
A safe in a nursery.
Of course.
Then I remembered something.
“Matteo asked me about it.”
Nico's face hardened.
“What did he say?”
“He saw the envelope when he moved the dresser. He asked if it was hospital paperwork.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That it was a letter from my mother.”
Vincent cursed under his breath.
Nico was already moving.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Matteo.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
He stopped.
“You're not leaving.”
His eyebrows lifted.
I almost enjoyed that.
“Nico, I gave birth six hours ago. Someone tried to enter my hospital room with a gun. Your security chief apparently stole something from our daughter's nursery. And the last time you decided to handle danger without telling me, I found out about it from a photograph.”
He stared at me.
“I am not asking you to take me with you.”
“Good.”
“I am telling you that if you disappear without explaining what you're doing, we're done.”
Something in his face changed.
Not anger.
Recognition.
He slowly returned to the chair.
Vincent looked like he wanted popcorn.
Nico ignored him.
“Matteo has known my routines for twelve years.”
“Okay.”
“He knows our safe houses, drivers, secondary businesses, family lawyers, and security procedures.”
“Okay.”
“If he is working with Bianca, he probably knows the trust activation was only the first step.”
“What is the second?”
“Gerald Shaw verifies the child and executes the voting transfer.”
“So Lila has to physically be there?”
“No. Her birth certificate and my acknowledgment are enough.”
I looked down.
“Have you acknowledged her?”
Nico's eyes met mine.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Ten minutes after I learned she was born.”
My chest tightened.
“How?”
“Vincent's attorney filed the preliminary declaration electronically.”
I looked at Vincent.
He shrugged.
“Nico was extremely persuasive.”
“Meaning?”
“He threatened to fire everyone in the legal department if they couldn't figure it out before he reached the hospital.”
Nico looked annoyed.
“That isn't relevant.”
It was absurd.
But somehow the image of Nico discovering his daughter existed and immediately legally declaring she was his nearly broke me.
I looked away.
“So what does Matteo gain?”
Nico answered.
“If he prevents execution for seventy-two hours, he can challenge the trust using a document Bianca claims exists.”
“What document?”
“An amendment allegedly signed by my father before he died.”
Vincent shook his head.
“Forged.”
“Probably.”
“And the amendment says?”
Nico's mouth tightened.
“That if I fail to produce a legally recognized heir before forty, controlling interest shifts to the nearest male Moretti descendant.”
I stared.
“You're thirty-nine.”
“Forty in eleven days.”
“And the nearest male descendant?”
Silence.
Vincent answered.
“Matteo Greco.”
I blinked.
“Matteo isn't a Moretti.”
Vincent's expression turned grim.
“His mother was.”
Nico closed his eyes briefly.
“Vittorio's daughter. My aunt Francesca.”
I felt sick.
“So Matteo isn't just stealing from you.”
“No.”
“He believes the empire should be his.”
“Yes.”
“And Lila ruined that simply by being born.”
Nico's eyes moved to our daughter.
“Yes.”
Suddenly everything became very simple.
Matteo had not seen my baby as a baby.
He had seen her as a clock running out.
A legal obstacle weighing six pounds and eleven ounces.
My fear transformed into something else.
Rage.
“Then we don't hide.”
Nico looked at me.
“What?”
“We execute the trust.”
“Ava—”
“Today.”
“You need to recover.”
“My daughter needs to exist publicly and legally before Matteo finds a judge willing to pretend she doesn't.”
Vincent nodded slowly.
“She has a point.”
Nico turned on him.
“She nearly hemorrhaged.”
“And I am right here,” I snapped.
He looked back at me.
“This is exactly what I mean. Stop discussing my body as if I'm not inside it.”
Nico went quiet.
I continued.
“We don't have to go anywhere. Bring Shaw here if he's safe. Bring another attorney if he isn't.”
Nico stared at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
“Fine.”
One word.
No argument.
It mattered more than I wanted it to.
Twenty minutes later, Vincent received a call.
Gerald Shaw had not been found at his home.
His wife was there.
Unharmed.
She said Gerald had received a message shortly after midnight claiming Nico had been injured.
A car picked him up.
Security footage showed the driver.
Matteo.
Nico stared at the image on Vincent's tablet.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Every person in the room went still.
I answered on speaker.
“Ava.”
Matteo's voice.
Warm.
Familiar.
The same man who had told me to breathe through contractions on the drive to the hospital.
“I hear congratulations are in order.”
Nico's entire body changed.
I held up one hand.
He stayed silent.
“What do you want, Matteo?”
“Very little.”
“Men like you never want very little.”
He laughed.
“You sound like your mother.”
My blood went cold.
“You knew her.”
“Oh, Ava.”
His voice softened.
“Your mother is the reason my family lost everything.”
Nico mouthed, Keep him talking.
I looked at Lila.
“What do you want?”
“The envelope.”
“You already took it.”
A pause.
Then Matteo laughed.
“Smart girl.”
Nico frowned.
I understood.
He didn't have it.
He had searched our apartment and failed.
Because the envelope wasn't in the dresser anymore.
I suddenly remembered.
The morning my contractions started, I had become sentimental.
I took my mother's letter from the nursery.
I put it somewhere I thought I would need courage.
My hospital bag.
I looked slowly toward the yellow hoodie hanging over the chair.
Inside its zippered pocket was a cream envelope with a wax seal.
May you like
Matteo didn't know.
And for the first time since Lila was born, we had something he wanted more than we needed him to know.
