Chapter 7 - THE FIRE BENEATH THE MANSION
-7
The fire was too precise.
That was Noah—no, I had no Noah in this life.
That was the thought I nearly had before realizing how badly shock was fragmenting me.
I had men for fires.
Men for bodies.
Men for cleanup.
For once, I trusted none of them.
I grabbed an extinguisher myself.
Celeste pulled the cellar door closed behind us to slow airflow.
Smoke rolled across the ceiling.
The fire centered around the shelving we had moved hours earlier.
Not the wine.
Not the electrical system.
The hidden archive.
Someone knew exactly where to burn.
I activated the suppression system manually.
Water exploded overhead.
Flames weakened.
Two guards arrived.
One was Carlo Denton.
The man photographed near Raymond before the shelter volunteer disappeared.
I looked at him.
He looked at the burning wall.
Then at me.
Too long.
“Get out,” I said.
“Boss?”
“Everyone upstairs.”
“We should help.”
“Out.”
My voice left no room.
He obeyed.
Celeste watched.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“Lorenzo’s?”
“Apparently.”
We waited until the fire department arrived.
I allowed them into the cellar because hiding the room would now be more dangerous than explaining it.
The secret door had warped.
Inside, several boxes burned.
Others soaked.
I had photographed only part of the archive.
Maybe forty percent.
Enough to prove something.
Not enough to map everything.
Someone had taken my phone.
Someone had started the fire minutes after Celeste showed me Lorenzo’s papers.
The circle of trust became smaller.
“Where is Beatrice?” Celeste asked quietly.
“Safe.”
“Luca?”
“Safe.”
“You don’t know that.”
She was right.
I borrowed a firefighter’s phone and called the farmhouse.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
My blood turned cold.
I left the mansion while fire crews still worked.
Celeste insisted on coming.
“No.”
“If Lorenzo started this, my house isn’t safe either.”
“Then go to a hotel.”
“He owns hotel managers.”
Fair.
We took her car.
No Bellini tracker.
At least none we knew of.
The drive to Galena became three hours of imagined violence.
Every unanswered call showed me a different version of Luca dead.
Beatrice on the floor.
The farmhouse burning.
When we finally reached the county road, tire tracks cut through fresh snow.
More than one vehicle.
Celeste saw them.
“Were those there?”
“No.”
We stopped half a mile away.
I wished for a gun.
Then hated the instinct.
Weapons made people feel prepared for situations intelligence should prevent.
Still, I took a legal pistol from Celeste’s glove compartment.
She saw my expression.
“I’m an attorney in Chicago.”
“That explains carrying a gun?”
“It explains expecting angry clients.”
We approached through the trees.
The farmhouse lights were off.
Front door open.
I entered first.
Kitchen overturned.
Blood on the floor.
My heart stopped.
“Luca!”
No answer.
Then a sound from upstairs.
I moved.
A man came through the hallway.
I raised the weapon.
Beatrice shouted:
“Don’t!”
I froze.
The man was Luca.
Blood ran from his forehead.
He held a fireplace poker.
“You took your time.”
I almost laughed from relief.
“What happened?”
“Two men.”
“Where?”
“One left.”
“The other?”
Luca looked toward the bathroom.
A man lay unconscious inside.
Carlo Denton.
I stared.
“How?”
Beatrice held up a cast-iron pan.
“I cook.”
Despite everything, Celeste laughed once.
Then Beatrice saw her.
Her entire body became still.
Celeste stopped.
The sisters faced each other without knowing what to do with the possibility between them.
Beatrice whispered:
“Who is that?”
Celeste answered herself.
“My name is Celeste Vale.”
Beatrice went pale.
Luca said nothing.
I closed the door.
“We have bigger immediate problems.”
Carlo regained consciousness twenty minutes later.
We tied his wrists.
Not to torture him.
To stop him reaching the knife hidden in his boot.
He looked at Celeste.
Shock.
“You?”
That reaction mattered.
“Lorenzo send you?” I asked.
Carlo smiled.
“You already know.”
“Did he order the mansion fire?”
No answer.
“Did he order Raymond taken?”
Carlo’s smile disappeared.
Beatrice stepped closer.
“Where is Raymond?”
He looked at her.
That was another answer.
“He’s dead?”
Silence.
Her eyes filled.
Luca moved between them.
“Don’t.”
“I want him to say it.”
Carlo finally spoke.
“Raymond asked questions.”
Beatrice slapped him.
Hard.
I did not stop her.
“Did Lorenzo kill him?”
Carlo looked at me.
“You really want me to betray Mr. Vale?”
I almost smiled.
“Who do you think I am?”
His face changed.
That was the first time I realized Lorenzo had become more powerful inside my own organization than I knew.
Carlo feared betraying him while tied to a chair in front of me.
The hierarchy had already shifted.
“What were your orders tonight?”
“Bring Luca.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Beatrice?”
He looked away.
“Dead?”
“No.”
“What?”
“Bring her too.”
“Why?”
“Vale wants to know what she found.”
Celeste stepped forward.
“And me?”
Carlo’s face tightened.
“What about you?”
“Did he know I was with Matteo?”
“No.”
Relief crossed her face.
Then disappeared because none of us trusted it.
“Where were you taking them?”
Carlo said nothing.
I placed Halpern’s name on the table.
“Doctor already talked.”
That was not completely safe to reveal.
But fear requires selected truth.
Carlo’s eyes changed.
“Halpern?”
“Yes.”
“Then he’s dead.”
My body tightened.
“What?”
“If he talked, he’s dead.”
I called.
No answer.
We later learned Dr. Elias Halpern never reached his home after our lunch.
His car was found at a parking garage.
Blood in the trunk.
No body.
Another ghost.
Or another corpse.
Carlo watched my face.
“Lorenzo knows you’re digging.”
“Obviously.”
“He says you’re unstable.”
That word made Luca laugh.
“Of course.”
The Winter House method.
Discredit first.
Remove second.
“What has Lorenzo told the captains?”
I asked.
“That Luca is alive.”
My pulse changed.
“What else?”
“That you hid him.”
“Why?”
“To use him against the family.”
Clever.
He turned the truth into betrayal.
“What does he claim Luca wants?”
“To cooperate with federal prosecutors.”
Luca looked at me.
“That part might become true.”
Carlo smiled.
“See?”
I ignored him.
“What is Lorenzo planning?”
“Meeting tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“No answer.”
“Captains?”
“Yes.”
“To remove me?”
Carlo stayed silent.
I knew.
My empire was entering succession while I still breathed.
“Why would they choose Lorenzo?”
“Because he says you’ve gone soft.”
The old insult.
Now political weapon.
“He says you’re willing to burn the family to save a maid and a dead brother.”
Beatrice looked away.
Luca smiled bitterly.
“Sounds almost noble when he says it.”
Carlo continued:
“He has documents.”
“What documents?”
“Proof you authorized Winter House.”
My signature.
The papers Father put in front of me.
The old final disposition language.
Lorenzo had prepared for this day.
If the system surfaced, he could make me its owner.
I was the current boss.
My name sat on inherited companies.
My signature appeared on old authorizations.
Lorenzo could claim he followed orders.
“How long has he been preparing?”
Carlo laughed.
“Since before Salvatore died.”
There.
“Did Lorenzo kill my father?”
Carlo stopped smiling.
That silence was different.
Fear.
“You know.”
“No.”
“You do.”
He looked at Celeste.
She stepped closer.
“Tell him.”
Carlo whispered:
“Mr. Vale said Salvatore was going to ruin everything.”
My throat tightened.
“How?”
“He wanted to shut Winter House.”
Luca stared.
“What?”
Carlo nodded.
“After you escaped.”
Luca’s face changed.
“Father knew I escaped?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He panicked.”
Salvatore Bellini.
The man who created the cage.
Perhaps seeing his own son vanish from it changed something.
Not redemption.
Too late for that.
But fear.
“He wanted to confess?” I asked.
Carlo shook his head.
“Not police.”
Of course.
“He wanted to destroy the records and release whoever remained.”
Luca sat.
For twelve years, he had imagined Father still hunting him.
Maybe Father had changed after the escape.
Again, a more complicated truth.
“What did Lorenzo do?”
Carlo looked down.
“I wasn’t there.”
“But?”
“Mr. Vale told us the old man had become a threat.”
My hands tightened.
“Medication.”
Carlo’s eyes lifted.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because I want to hear someone say it.”
He swallowed.
“Lorenzo switched Salvatore’s pills.”
Silence.
Even the heater seemed to stop.
My father did not die because his heart failed.
He died because the man he trusted most altered his medication.
And Halpern helped bury the evidence.
Celeste looked physically ill.
“He raised me.”
Carlo turned toward her.
“He loves you.”
She laughed bitterly.
“So did Salvatore love Luca.”
The same truth returned.
Love without morality is only possession.
I looked at Carlo.
“Why does Lorenzo want Luca alive?”
“Ledger.”
“He doesn’t have it.”
“Vale thinks he does.”
“What happens after?”
Carlo did not answer.
Luca did.
“He kills me.”
Carlo looked away.
That was enough.
Then Beatrice asked:
“And me?”
Carlo’s face changed.
Celeste saw it.
“What?”
Beatrice repeated:
“What happens to me?”
Carlo whispered:
“Lorenzo says you’re not supposed to die.”
“Why?”
He looked at Celeste.
“Because he needs the sisters.”
The room became silent.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Carlo shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
He looked genuinely confused.
“I only heard him say it.”
Celeste’s face drained.
“The sisters for what?”
Carlo closed his eyes.
“For proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“Ownership.”
My stomach tightened.
Beatrice and Celeste were not simply victims of a stolen-child scheme.
Their blood relationship apparently controlled something.
Money?
Property?
An account?
Luca reached into his jacket.
He removed a small key.
“I think I know.”
We turned.
“The master ledger wasn’t only names.”
“What else?”
“Asset codes.”
He looked at Beatrice.
“Daniel hid something before they took him.”
“What?”
“A trust.”
She stared.
“My father had no money.”
“Not his money.”
Luca looked at me.
“Salvatore’s.”
My blood froze.
“What trust?”
“The money Winter House generated.”
My father had hidden the proceeds.
Not inside Bellini accounts.
Inside a structure requiring a non-Bellini beneficiary.
“Why Gallagher?”
“Because Daniel built the shell structure before he realized what it was funding.”
Beatrice stopped breathing.
“And Mara?”
Luca nodded slowly.
“Your father may have named his daughters as emergency beneficiaries.”
Celeste looked at her.
That explained why Lorenzo kept the stolen baby alive.
Why he raised her.
Why Beatrice was not supposed to die.
He needed both sisters.
Perhaps signatures.
Perhaps DNA.
Perhaps control of a fortune my father had hidden away from his own family.
The money beneath Winter House.
The wealth created by stolen companies and erased people.
May you like
Lorenzo had not raised Celeste only out of affection.
He had been protecting a key.
Related Stories
