Chapter 6 - GRETA’S CONFESSION
They found Greta alive in an abandoned ambulance under the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.
Drugged.
Bound.
Angry.
Very angry.
I learned this because the first thing she did after waking in the hospital was demand to speak to Alessandro and call Dom an incompetent gorilla.
Dom took that as evidence of neurological stability.
I did not laugh.
Much.
Mia was asleep in a secure hospital family room while Nero received stitches from a veterinary team Alessandro somehow convinced the hospital to admit through a private service entrance.
I had stopped asking how he arranged things.
Some answers were probably healthier unknown.
Greta lay in a hospital bed with a police officer outside.
No mansion staff.
No Conti private security.
Her lawyer sat in the corner.
When I entered, she glared.
“You.”
“Yes.”
“You should be home with your child.”
“My child was targeted because of this.”
Her face changed.
Guilt.
Good.
I sat.
Alessandro stood by the window.
Dom near the door.
Elena had refused to come.
That bothered me.
“What happened?” Alessandro asked.
Greta looked at him.
“Your cousin.”
“Luca?”
“Yes.”
“You saw him?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“His man.”
“Name.”
“Peter Vance.”
Dom typed.
Greta continued.
“Vance worked estate maintenance under a subcontractor. He knew tunnels, service locks, backup panels.”
Everything clicked.
Blackout.
Garden tunnel.
Camera access.
“Why take you?” I asked.
Greta looked at me.
“Because I failed to get you out.”
My anger returned.
“You drugged me.”
“Yes.”
“You framed me.”
“Yes.”
“You threatened Mia.”
Greta closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“And your excuse is protection.”
“No.”
That surprised me.
She opened her eyes.
“My excuse is cowardice.”
The room went still.
“I knew Luca wanted you watched. When I recognized Bunny, I panicked. I thought if I removed you before he realized you had evidence, you might disappear somewhere safe.”
“You could have warned me.”
“I was afraid he monitored communications.”
“So you terrified my daughter instead.”
“Yes.”
She did not soften it.
I respected honesty more than remorse.
Maybe both.
“Why the clock?”
“Fast dismissal. Clear cause.”
“Why drug me?”
“So you would sleep while I moved the clock and searched Bunny.”
“You searched it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find the card?”
“No.”
“Mia had already broken the ear?”
“Not enough.”
She laughed bitterly.
“The child did what none of us could. Destroyed the hiding place by loving it too hard.”
I looked toward the family room.
That sounded like Mia.
Alessandro asked, “What does Luca know about Mercer?”
“Almost everything.”
“Did he know about Isabella’s case?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know the letter named the ring?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is Raffaele?”
Greta hesitated.
Alessandro’s voice changed.
“Do not make me ask again.”
Greta’s lawyer leaned forward.
“My client—”
Greta lifted a hand.
“Raffaele is sick.”
Elena had known.
I could feel it.
“Where?” Dom asked.
“Private residence in Westchester.”
“Owned by?”
“Foundation shell.”
“Luca?”
“Yes.”
Alessandro looked at Dom.
“Police first.”
Dom nodded.
Greta stared.
“You really are doing this differently.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“I learned what secrecy costs.”
She said nothing.
Then I asked, “Why did my mother trust you?”
Greta’s face softened.
“She didn’t.”
Fair.
“Then why give you the card?”
“She trusted Isabella.”
“What does that mean?”
“Isabella asked me to hold it.”
I frowned.
“You said Victor gave it to you.”
“He did.”
“Then?”
“I told Isabella’s attorney I had it. Anne contacted me through him.”
Layer after layer.
People protecting information because they trusted no institution fully.
No person fully.
It had kept the evidence alive.
It had also nearly destroyed all of us.
“What did Mom say?”
Greta looked at me.
“She said if anything happened to her, you were to be kept away from the Contis.”
“Yet I ended up there.”
“Yes.”
“Because Luca arranged it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He believed Anne left the full files with you.”
“Did she?”
Greta looked at the music-box numbers copied on the table.
“Apparently.”
The Mercer drives had not yet been opened.
Police and federal financial-crime investigators were setting up a controlled forensic review.
I hated waiting.
But I had learned something from the last twenty-four hours.
Fast answers could be expensive.
We waited.
Four hours later, an agent named Rachel Singh met us in a conference room.
She was mid-forties, calm, unimpressed by everyone.
I liked her immediately.
“The drives contain financial records, emails, property transactions, and audio.”
Alessandro said, “Luca?”
“Yes.”
“Raffaele?”
“Yes.”
“Others?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Enough that I am not discussing names outside formal interviews.”
Alessandro almost argued.
He stopped.
Progress.
Singh looked at me.
“One folder concerns your mother.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Anne Bell kept a diary.”
Digital.
Scanned pages.
I sat.
Singh continued.
“She believed the crash was ordered by Raffaele but operationally managed by Victor Sanz.”
“And Luca?”
“She suspected Luca helped move money afterward.”
“Did she know who drove the SUV?”
“No.”
“Isabella?”
“The files show Isabella identified the housing scheme and confronted Luca three weeks before her death.”
Alessandro’s face hardened.
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Singh looked at him.
“According to Anne, Isabella believed Luca would confess if confronted privately.”
He closed his eyes.
“She trusted him.”
“Apparently.”
Alessandro looked older.
Family betrayal ages people quickly.
Singh continued.
“There is audio.”
We listened.
Isabella’s voice.
Clear.
Angry.
“Luca, this ends now.”
A man replied.
“You have no idea what you’re touching.”
“I know families are being thrown out of homes so Raffaele can buy buildings cheap.”
“That’s not Alessandro.”
“I know.”
“Then why destroy him?”
“I’m trying to protect him.”
Luca laughed.
“You think truth protects men like Alessandro?”
“I think lies destroy them.”
Silence.
Then Luca:
“If you go to him with this, he will have to choose.”
“Yes.”
“Between you and family.”
Isabella answered without hesitation.
“He already chose me when he married me.”
Alessandro turned away.
The recording ended.
I felt something ache for a woman I had never known.
She believed in him.
Maybe more than he believed in himself.
Singh played another file.
My mother.
Anne.
“You cannot scare me forever, Victor.”
Male voice.
“You have a daughter.”
My hands clenched.
“She has nothing to do with this.”
“Then act like a mother.”
The recording stopped.
I could not breathe.
Mia.
History repeating.
Threaten the child to silence the mother.
My mother had lived through my worst fear.
Singh said, “There is more.”
“I need a minute.”
She nodded.
I walked into the hall.
Alessandro followed.
I turned.
“No.”
He stopped.
“I’m not asking you to fix it.”
Good.
“Then why follow?”
“Because you looked like you might fall.”
I hated that he noticed.
“I’m fine.”
He gave me the same look Mia gave when she knew I was lying.
I leaned against the wall.
“My mother never told me.”
“She was trying to protect you.”
“I know.”
“That does not make it right.”
I looked at him.
He understood.
“Did Isabella tell you she was afraid?”
He went quiet.
“Yes.”
The answer surprised me.
“What did you do?”
“I told her I would handle it.”
“And?”
“I handled the wrong problem.”
He stared at the floor.
“I thought she meant Costello threats. I increased security. Changed routes. Put men around her.”
“But the threat was inside.”
“Yes.”
We stood in silence.
Then he said, “She hated guards.”
“So do I.”
“I noticed.”
“I’m not your wife.”
His eyes lifted.
“I know.”
Something changed between us.
Tiny.
Dangerous.
Not romance.
Recognition.
Two people standing inside someone else’s unfinished tragedy.
I stepped away.
Back to the room.
Singh had another development.
Police reached the Westchester property.
Raffaele was there.
Eighty-two.
Cancer.
Bedridden.
Alive.
Luca was not.
Raffaele agreed to speak.
But only to Alessandro.
Singh said no.
Alessandro said fine.
Everyone stared.
“What?”
“I am not meeting him privately.”
Singh nodded.
“Good.”
He looked irritated by praise.
We drove to Westchester with law enforcement.
I did not need to go.
I chose to.
Mia stayed with Rosa at a secure apartment.
This time I left her because I chose the conditions.
Not because anyone decided for me.
The house sat behind stone walls.
Raffaele lay in a dark bedroom overlooking winter trees.
He looked small.
That shocked me.
Fear makes people large in imagination.
Illness restores scale.
Alessandro stood at the foot of the bed.
“Uncle.”
Raffaele smiled.
“Finally.”
Agents recorded.
Attorneys present.
No secrets.
Alessandro asked one question.
“Did you order Isabella killed?”
Raffaele looked at him.
“No.”
“Did you order Victor to stop her?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I told him to recover documents.”
“By force?”
“If necessary.”
“So you created the condition.”
Raffaele shrugged weakly.
“I ran a family.”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened.
“No. You ran a racket.”
Raffaele smiled.
“Now you sound like your wife.”
Good.
Alessandro did not react.
“Who ordered the vehicle strike?”
Raffaele’s eyes moved toward me.
“Luca.”
My stomach dropped.
“Proof?” Agent Singh asked.
Raffaele coughed.
“Victor told me after.”
“Why not punish Luca?”
“Because Isabella was already dead.”
The casualness made me sick.
Alessandro’s voice was barely audible.
“And Anne?”
“Victor threatened her.”
“Did Luca know?”
“Yes.”
“Did Luca arrange Nora’s placement in my house?”
Raffaele’s smile returned.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To flush out Anne’s evidence.”
So we had it.
Luca had been hunting me.
Greta’s frame-up had interrupted his plan.
Badly.
But perhaps saved us.
Raffaele closed his eyes.
Then opened them.
“Luca will not run forever.”
Alessandro stepped closer.
“Where is he?”
Raffaele looked at him.
“He wants the family.”
“What?”
“He believes your cooperation with police makes you unfit.”
Alessandro almost laughed.
“Unfit for what?”
“To lead.”
“That position no longer exists.”
Raffaele’s face twisted.
“You cannot erase blood with paperwork.”
“No.”
Alessandro looked at me.
Then back.
“But I can stop worshipping it.”
Raffaele’s eyes hardened.
“Then Luca will come for what remains.”
“What remains?”
The old man looked toward the hall.
“Your house.”
My stomach dropped.
Mia.
I pulled out my phone.
No signal.
Agent Singh already moved.
“Call the security team.”
A radio crackled.
Then Dom’s voice came through.
“Sir, we have a problem.”
Alessandro grabbed the radio.
“What?”
“Mia and Rosa are safe.”
I exhaled.
“Then what?”
“The mansion’s east wing is on fire.”
Everything went still.
Greta’s old wing.
Isabella’s former office.
The place where thirty years of paper archives remained.
May you like
Luca was not only running.
He was burning history.
