Chapter 6 - MATTEO
-6
Vittorio flew to Phoenix before sunrise.
He left Luca with Rosa, two trusted security men, and Detective Ellis’s direct number taped beside the kitchen phone.
Luca did not want him to go.
“What if Grandma comes?”
“She won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because people are watching her now.”
“Promise?”
Vittorio hesitated only long enough to make sure the promise was one he could keep.
“I promise.”
Bernadette had been released from formal questioning pending further evidence.
But police surveillance followed her.
Her passport had been flagged.
Her attorneys were fighting every request.
For once, the woman who had controlled the movement of everyone around her was being watched.
Still, Vittorio trusted walls more than legal orders.
He kissed Luca goodbye.
“Find Uncle Matteo.”
“I’ll try.”
“No.”
Luca looked serious.
“Find him.”
Vittorio nodded.
“I will.”
At 10:16 a.m. local time, Vittorio stood outside a modest apartment building beneath the brutal Arizona sun.
No gates.
No guards.
No marble.
No DeLuca name.
Just faded stucco and a line of bicycles chained beneath a metal stairway.
Marco stood beside him.
“You want me to come up?”
“No.”
“Vittorio—”
“He’s my brother.”
Marco nodded.
“I’ll be here.”
Vittorio climbed the stairs.
Unit four.
He knocked.
No answer.
Again.
Movement inside.
Then the door opened.
The man standing there was older.
Thinner.
His hair was mostly gray.
A scar crossed his left temple.
But Vittorio knew him.
Matteo.
For a long moment neither brother spoke.
Matteo’s face emptied of color.
“No.”
Vittorio swallowed.
“Hello, Matt.”
Matteo backed away.
“How did you find me?”
“Dad.”
Matteo stared.
“Dad is dead.”
“He left records.”
“So did I.”
“I know.”
Matteo looked beyond Vittorio toward the parking lot.
“Is she here?”
“No.”
“Did she follow you?”
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“She poisoned Luca.”
Everything changed.
Matteo stopped moving.
“Your son?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Eight.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Matteo gripped the doorframe.
“What happened?”
“She put something in his tea.”
His eyes closed.
“God.”
“She did it before.”
“You know that?”
“I’m starting to.”
Matteo looked at his brother.
Then opened the door wider.
“Come inside.”
The apartment was clean and painfully ordinary.
Books.
A worn couch.
Photographs of desert landscapes.
One framed picture showed Matteo standing with a group of adults at a community center.
There was no evidence he had ever belonged to one of the wealthiest families in New York.
“You changed your name.”
“Yes.”
“Matthew Cole.”
“Close enough that I wouldn’t forget who I was.”
“You disappeared.”
Matteo turned.
“I was forced out.”
“For twenty-eight years?”
“You told me never to come back.”
Vittorio flinched.
“You remember.”
“Every word.”
“I was seventeen.”
“I know.”
“I thought you stole from us.”
“I know.”
“Mother told me—”
“I know what Mother told everyone.”
Vittorio’s frustration burst.
“Then why didn’t you come back when I was older?”
“Because by then Dad was protecting her.”
“He was terrified of her.”
“So was I.”
“You could have contacted me.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Five years after I left.”
Vittorio frowned.
“I never received anything.”
“I sent a letter to your office.”
“What did it say?”
“That I was alive.”
“Who signed for it?”
Matteo laughed without humor.
“Celeste Vale.”
The name hung between them.
“She told me you destroyed it unopened.”
“I never saw it.”
“I know that now.”
“When did you learn?”
“Years later.”
“How?”
“Sofia.”
Vittorio stopped breathing.
“You knew Sofia?”
“Not in person.”
“But you contacted her.”
“No.”
“She contacted me.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
One year before Sofia died.
“How did she find you?”
“She found one of my copies.”
“Where?”
“Your father gave it to her.”
Vittorio sat down.
“Dad knew where you were?”
“No. He had an address for Elaine.”
“Then Sofia reached Elaine.”
“Yes.”
“What did Sofia want?”
“The truth.”
“About Bernadette?”
“About everything.”
Matteo crossed the room and opened a locked drawer.
He removed a folder.
On the front, written in Sofia’s handwriting:
M.
Vittorio touched it as if touching her.
“She sent letters?”
“Emails mostly. Printed for safety.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because I told her not to.”
Vittorio looked up with fury.
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
“You let my wife investigate my family alone.”
“She wasn’t alone.”
“She died.”
Matteo’s expression broke.
“I know.”
Vittorio stood.
“Did you know she was in danger?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too quickly.
Vittorio crossed the room and grabbed his brother’s shirt.
Marco appeared instantly at the doorway.
Matteo raised one hand.
“It’s fine.”
Vittorio shoved him against the wall.
“You knew.”
“I warned her.”
“You knew my mother was dangerous and you let Sofia stay there.”
“She would not stop.”
“You should have called me.”
“She begged me not to.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought you’d confront Bernadette before we had proof.”
“She was right.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
Vittorio released him.
Matteo straightened his shirt.
For several seconds, only their breathing filled the room.
“What did Sofia find?” Vittorio asked.
Matteo opened the folder.
“She found the ledger.”
“The original?”
“A partial copy.”
“Where?”
“Your father had hidden it.”
“What did it show?”
“People Bernadette and Dominic targeted over decades.”
“Targeted how?”
“Sometimes financial pressure. Sometimes blackmail. Sometimes manufactured illnesses.”
Vittorio’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“Control.”
“Of the company?”
“Of everyone.”
Matteo handed him a page.
Names.
Dates.
Initials.
One line was circled.
ENZO D.
Another.
SOFIA D.
Another.
VITTORIO D.
And at the bottom—
LUCA D.
Vittorio’s eyes locked on his son’s name.
“What date is beside Luca?”
Matteo looked.
“Two months after Sofia died.”
Vittorio felt sick.
“What does the notation mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve had this for years.”
“I never decoded every symbol.”
“Try.”
Matteo took the page.
His face changed.
“What?”
“The mark beside Luca.”
“What does it mean?”
“I’ve seen it before.”
“Where?”
“Beside Dad’s name.”
Vittorio stared.
“And?”
“Dad wrote in his diary that Bernadette used small episodes to make him look incompetent.”
“Medical incapacity.”
“Yes.”
“Luca was five.”
“She was preparing something.”
“For what?”
Matteo turned pages.
Then froze.
“Here.”
A photocopied legal memorandum.
Prepared by Vale & Vale.
Subject:
Contingency succession in event of Vittorio DeLuca incapacity.
Vittorio read faster.
The memo described a scenario where, if Vittorio became medically or legally unable to manage Luca’s affairs, guardianship authority could be petitioned to Bernadette.
“Why would I become incapacitated?”
Matteo said nothing.
Vittorio looked at him.
“What?”
Matteo pointed to another line in the ledger.
VITTORIO D.
Beside it was a date.
Three weeks in the future.
Not years ago.
Now.
Vittorio’s skin went cold.
“This copy is old.”
“No.”
Matteo shook his head.
“Sofia’s copy ends four years ago.”
“Then where did that date come from?”
Matteo looked at the page carefully.
“This isn’t Sofia’s.”
“What?”
“I didn’t put this page in the folder.”
Both men fell silent.
Someone had entered Matteo’s apartment.
Someone had added a current page.
A warning?
Or a threat?
Marco moved to the window.
“Do you have cameras?”
“No.”
“Anyone else have a key?”
“No.”
“When were you last away?”
“Yesterday. Work.”
Vittorio studied the notation beside his own name.
Three weeks.
“What happens in three weeks?”
Marco answered.
“The annual DeLuca board meeting.”
Vittorio understood immediately.
At that meeting, he planned to reorganize voting control.
He had told only senior counsel.
His mother.
Celeste Vale.
And three directors.
Matteo looked at him.
“What were you planning?”
“To move more authority into Luca’s long-term trust.”
“Meaning?”
“Bernadette would lose influence.”
Matteo exhaled slowly.
“She knows.”
Vittorio’s phone rang.
Rosa.
He answered instantly.
“Luca?”
“He’s safe.”
“What happened?”
“There’s a woman downstairs asking to see him.”
“Who?”
“She says she’s from the hospital.”
“Name?”
“Dr. Nina Patel.”
Vittorio frowned.
Dr. Patel was still working at the hospital.
He had spoken to her that morning.
“Do not open the door.”
“I didn’t.”
“Call the police.”
“I already did.”
A muffled sound came through.
Then Rosa whispered.
“She’s leaving.”
“Get security footage.”
One of the guards took the phone.
“Sir, we have her face.”
“Follow from a distance. Do not engage.”
“Yes, sir.”
Vittorio hung up.
Matteo stared at him.
“They know where Luca is?”
“Apparently.”
“But you said only four people knew the apartment.”
Vittorio’s mind ran through the list.
Marco.
His attorney.
Rosa.
Sofia.
Sofia was dead.
Marco stood in front of him.
Rosa was with Luca.
That left one person.
Vittorio’s attorney.
Celeste Vale.
May you like
And suddenly the DeLuca secret no longer looked like one old woman protecting her past.
It looked like a machine that had never stopped operating.
