Chapter 5 - THE SISTER WHO SOLD THE HOUSE
Z
Celeste Moretti had always been beautiful in the way expensive things were beautiful.
Controlled.
Polished.
Untouched.
Elena had seen her perhaps twelve times in seven months.
She arrived late to family dinners, dressed in silk and cashmere, kissed Dante on the cheek, ignored most of the staff, and left before midnight.
She was thirty-four.
Two years younger than Dante.
Chairwoman of the Moretti Foundation.
Photographed at hospital openings and charity galas.
There were magazine profiles about her.
No magazine mentioned that she knew how to disable the security cameras beneath her brother's house.
By 5:10 a.m., Luca had found the missing estate car.
Abandoned beside an old church six miles away.
No Celeste.
But there was something else.
A phone.
Burner.
Three numbers saved.
One belonged to Adrian.
One belonged to a Bellini attorney.
The third belonged to a man Dante had trusted for nineteen years.
His chief financial officer.
Vincent Orsini.
They gathered in Dante's study as dawn turned the windows gray.
Elena had changed into borrowed sweatpants and a sweater.
Her face still hurt.
Her life hurt more.
Helena sat opposite her.
They had barely spoken.
Adrian remained under medical supervision.
Dante stood behind his desk.
Luca placed the burner phone beside him.
“Orsini hasn't answered.”
“His wife?”
“Claims he left for Boston last night.”
“Jet records?”
“Nothing.”
Dante looked at the phone.
“Then he didn't leave.”
Helena crossed her arms.
“Marco would have pulled him somewhere secure.”
Dante's gaze snapped toward her.
“You keep speaking like you know Bellini's current operations.”
“I do.”
“How?”
Helena took a breath.
“Because I never escaped him.”
Elena looked up.
“What?”
Helena's mouth tightened.
“Marco kept me alive because he believed Gabriel had given me the ledger. When he realized I didn't have it, he kept me because I knew too much.”
“For eighteen years?”
“He moved me. Montreal. Toronto. Detroit. Buffalo. Sometimes apartments. Sometimes houses. Sometimes rooms without windows.”
Elena's anger cracked again.
“You could have contacted me.”
“No.”
“You found your way into this estate tonight.”
“Because Marco finally let me.”
The room went quiet.
Dante leaned forward.
“Explain.”
Helena looked at him.
“He wants me here.”
Elena frowned.
“Why?”
“To make you panic.”
Dante's eyes sharpened.
Helena continued.
“Marco doesn't do anything without layers. Adrian was sent for Elena. Celeste was used against Dante. I was allowed to escape because Marco knew I'd come here.”
Elena's skin prickled.
“You were followed.”
“Probably.”
Luca swore quietly.
“Perimeter sweep.”
“Already running.”
Dante turned toward the window.
“He doesn't want to attack the house.”
Helena shook her head.
“No.”
“He wants us looking at the house.”
“Yes.”
Elena looked between them.
“While he does what?”
Dante answered.
“The trust.”
He moved to his computer.
Luca came beside him.
Dante opened financial software Elena didn't recognize.
Lines of corporate structures appeared.
Holding companies.
Trustees.
Votes.
Beneficial owners.
Dante searched.
Then stopped.
“What?”
Luca leaned closer.
“That's impossible.”
“What?” Elena demanded.
Dante rotated the screen.
A legal filing had been submitted electronically at 4:48 a.m.
Petition for emergency transfer of beneficiary authority.
Petitioner: Adrian Gabriel Caruso.
Respondent: Elena Marie Caruso.
Elena stared.
“Adrian didn't file that.”
“No,” Dante said.
“Because Adrian is twenty feet away with a bullet hole in him.”
Helena stood.
“Marco forged it.”
Dante scrolled.
“No.”
He enlarged the digital authentication record.
“The filing used Adrian's verified biometric signature.”
Elena's stomach dropped.
“When would he have given that?”
Adrian answered from the doorway.
Everyone turned.
He stood supported by a nurse, pale and furious.
“Three months ago.”
“Elena,” the nurse protested.
“I need five minutes.”
Adrian sat heavily.
“Marco told me it was for a new corporate account.”
Dante's stare turned glacial.
“And you signed without reading?”
“I stopped reading things Marco put in front of me years ago.”
“That may become an expensive personality trait.”
Elena glared at Dante.
“Not now.”
His eyes met hers.
He nodded once.
She looked at Adrian.
“What does the petition say?”
Dante answered.
“That you are mentally incompetent.”
Elena actually laughed.
“Of course.”
“It claims you suffer from dissociative episodes, paranoia, and an inability to manage financial affairs.”
Her smile vanished.
“Based on what?”
Dante scrolled.
“Medical records.”
“I haven't seen a psychiatrist in my life.”
“Someone created one.”
Helena came around the desk.
Elena stared at dates.
Seven years of appointments.
Diagnoses.
Hospitalizations.
Medication.
All fake.
Except.
She leaned closer.
“What is that?”
A clinic in Cleveland.
A date from five years earlier.
She remembered that night.
She had gone to an urgent care center after fainting at work.
Blood pressure.
Exhaustion.
Nothing psychiatric.
“They changed my records.”
Dante nodded.
“Enough real data to make the fake history look credible.”
Adrian's face twisted.
“Marco's been building this for years.”
“Why?” Elena asked.
Helena answered.
“Because eventually he knew he would need control of your share.”
Dante opened another document.
His expression changed.
“What now?”
He didn't answer.
“Dante.”
“There's a hearing at noon.”
“What?”
“Emergency injunction.”
Elena stared at the clock.
Six hours.
“If the judge believes this?”
“Your beneficiary voting rights can be temporarily assigned to Adrian.”
Adrian shook his head.
“I won't cooperate.”
Dante looked at him.
“It won't matter. Once the court appoints a temporary fiduciary, Marco can move through the trustee structure.”
Elena's heartbeat accelerated.
“So what do we do?”
Dante looked at her.
“We prove you're competent.”
She blinked.
“That's it?”
“No.”
His gaze became darker.
“We prove somebody manufactured your medical history.”
Luca's phone buzzed.
He read the screen.
“Found Celeste.”
Dante went rigid.
“Where?”
“St. Catherine's.”
“The church?”
“No.”
Luca looked at Elena.
“The psychiatric hospital.”
Elena's blood chilled.
“Why is she there?”
Luca's expression turned grim.
“She checked someone in under Elena's name.”
Dante stood.
“Who?”
Luca hesitated.
“A woman approximately thirty-two years old.”
Elena stared.
“Who is she?”
“They won't release that information.”
Dante grabbed his coat.
Elena followed.
“So we go ask.”
“Elena—”
“No.”
She picked up her shoes.
“For eight years, everyone else has known more about my life than I do.”
She pulled them on.
“That ends today.”
Dante looked at her bruised face.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
The drive to St. Catherine's took twenty-three minutes.
When they arrived, three police cars were already outside.
So was an ambulance.
Dante's expression darkened.
Luca spoke with a uniformed officer.
Then returned.
“What?”
“The patient registered as Elena Caruso tried to escape.”
Elena looked toward the ambulance.
“Who is she?”
Luca's face changed.
“She says her name is Sofia.”
Helena made a strangled sound.
Elena turned.
Her mother had gone white.
“Mom?”
Helena stared at the ambulance.
“No.”
“What?”
“No.”
“Who is Sofia?”
Helena began crying.
The first tears Elena had seen her shed.
May you like
When she answered, her voice barely carried.
“Your sister.”
