His expression tightened.
"I didn't let anyone do anything."
"Then explain what happened."
He approached her.
"Someone tried to use the event to reach me."
"By putting something in my drink?"
"Your drink."
She stared at him.
The correction hurt more than he intended.
Alessandro knelt in front of her.
"Isabella, listen to me."
She looked away.
"I need you to trust me."
"Trust you about what?"
"Everything."
She laughed softly.
"That's a terrible thing to ask someone."
He lowered his eyes.
She had never spoken to him like that.
Not even during their worst arguments.
"Who is Vincent?" she asked.
Alessandro remained still.
"My father's brother."
"Was he involved in your father's death?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think he is alive?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think he is coming after us?"
Alessandro looked at her.
"Yes."
The honesty frightened her.
He took her hands.
"I've arranged additional security. Tomorrow morning, we're leaving the city."
"Where?"
"Somewhere safe."
"And the baby?"
"Your doctor will come with us."
She looked at him.
"You're making decisions again."
"I'm protecting you."
"No. You're deciding everything without asking me."
He stood.
"This isn't a discussion about preferences."
"Then perhaps you should have married someone who wanted to live like this."
The words struck him.
He turned toward the window.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Isabella said something that made him look back.
"I want to know what happened to your father."
Alessandro stared at her.
"Why?"
"Because if someone has spent eleven years hiding a death, and now they're trying to reach our child, I deserve to know why."
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"Tomorrow, I'll tell you everything."
She did not smile.
"Not tomorrow. Tonight."
***
At one thirty in the morning, Elena Rossi arrived at the penthouse.
She was fifty-eight years old, with short silver hair and a thin scar beneath her left eye.
She walked with a slight limp.
Two security men accompanied her.
Alessandro met her in the private library.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Elena removed her gloves.
"You look like your father."
Alessandro's face remained expressionless.
"You look older."
"Eleven years will do that."
"Where have you been?"
"Trying to stay alive."
He gestured toward a chair.
She remained standing.
"Your uncle is alive," Alessandro said.
Elena nodded.
"I know."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know whether you were working with him."
Alessandro looked at her.
"You're speaking to the man who buried his father."
"Are you?"
The question was quiet.
It was also unforgivable.
Alessandro stepped closer.
"Explain."
Elena finally sat.
She opened her handbag and removed a small envelope.
Inside were several documents.
Bank statements.
Medical records.
A handwritten letter.
Alessandro recognized his father's signature immediately.
He unfolded the letter.
The date was eleven years old.
The message was short.
Vincent is not the man I believed him to be. If anything happens to me, do not trust the official explanation. Find Elena. She knows where I kept the original records.
Alessandro read it twice.
His father had known.
He had known that Vincent was dangerous.
And he had died before he could explain why.
"Where are the records?" Alessandro asked.
Elena looked toward the door.
"Your father placed them somewhere nobody in the family would think to search."
"Where?"
"At the old hotel."
Alessandro's expression changed.
The hotel where he had proposed to Isabella.
The hotel where their relationship had begun.
"Why there?"
"Because your father knew you would eventually restore it."
Alessandro stared at the letter.
Elena leaned forward.
"There is something else."
"What?"
"Your uncle didn't only steal money. He created an entirely separate organization using your father's name. For eleven years, he has been building influence outside the family."
"Why?"
"Because he wants the Moretti empire."
Alessandro gave a cold smile.
"He can have the companies. He cannot have the family."
Elena shook her head.
"You're still thinking like a man who believes family is something that can be protected with guards."
"What do you mean?"
She looked directly at him.
"Vincent has someone inside your household."
Alessandro's expression became still.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Then how do you know?"
"Because someone told him about the pregnancy before the announcement."
Alessandro remembered the message.
THE WOMAN MUST NOT REACH THE CHILD.
He looked toward the hallway.
Isabella was sleeping upstairs.
Or at least, he hoped she was.
"Did my father know about this?"
Elena hesitated.
"Your father knew that Vincent wanted an heir of his own."
"Vincent has no children."
"He had one."
Alessandro looked at her.
"What?"
Elena removed another photograph.
It showed a young woman holding a baby.
The woman was Elena.
The child was a boy.
Alessandro studied the photograph.
Then he looked at her.
"Who is the boy?"
Elena's eyes filled with tears.
"Your father."
The room seemed to change.
Alessandro lowered the photograph.
"That's impossible."
"Your father was adopted."
He stared at her.
"Explain."
"Your grandfather had two sons, Vincent and a daughter named Sofia. Sofia became pregnant before marriage. The family considered the child a disgrace. Your grandfather arranged for the baby to be adopted by a distant relative."
Alessandro looked at the photograph again.
"My father was Sofia's child?"
Elena nodded.
"Vincent knew. He spent his entire life believing he should have inherited everything. When he discovered that your father was actually the biological heir, he became obsessed with proving that the family had been stolen from him."
Alessandro sat down.
For the first time in years, he felt the weight of the Moretti name as something other than power.