Chapter 3 - The Secret Behind the Bellucci Accounts
By morning, Dante had searched every property Carlo owned.
Nothing.
No hidden records.
No stolen jewelry.
No obvious connection to the planted necklace.
Carlo was good.
Too good.
Dante sat in his office staring at the screen while Marco reviewed financial records.
“There's a pattern,” Marco said.
“Show me.”
“Every Bellucci invoice goes through three companies.”
The chart appeared.
Northbridge Holdings.
Luca Fine Art Services.
And a nonprofit called The Moretti Heritage Fund.
Dante stared at the last name.
“That fund is legitimate.”
“It is.”
“Then why is money moving through it?”
“That’s what I don’t understand.”
Dante stood.
“Who controls it?”
“My aunt.”
Silence.
Dante leaned against the desk.
“What about Sophia?”
“Nothing directly.”
“That doesn't mean anything.”
Marco looked at him.
“You're thinking what I’m thinking.”
“Yes.”
“They could be using her.”
“Or she's using them.”
Dante picked up the phone.
“Get Catherine.”
She arrived fifteen minutes later.
Dante closed the office door.
“Mom, tell me about Bellucci.”
Catherine froze.
“What do you mean?”
“The restoration invoices.”
“I don't know.”
“Someone is moving money through your family foundation.”
She swallowed.
“Dante…”
“Please.”
Catherine sat down.
Her hands trembled.
“You need to understand something.”
“What?”
“Your father knew.”
Dante stared.
“Knew what?”
“That the family was being robbed.”
“By whom?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
Catherine looked away.
Dante's voice softened.
“Mom.”
She started crying.
“Your father was investigating Carlo's father.”
Dante blinked.
“Uncle Vittorio?”
“Yes.”
“But he died when Carlo was ten.”
Catherine nodded.
“Your father believed he was involved in something criminal.”
Dante felt the pieces shifting.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“Because he didn't trust anyone.”
“Not even me?”
“You were twenty-three.”
Dante sat down.
“What happened?”
“Your father confronted Vittorio.”
“And?”
“Three weeks later, your father died.”
Dante's blood ran cold.
“Car accident.”
“Yes.”
“You told me it was an accident.”
“That is what I was told.”
“You don't believe it?”
Catherine shook her head.
“I have spent fifteen years believing nothing about this family is simple.”
Dante thought of Isabella.
Fifteen years.
He suddenly understood why he had become obsessed with controlling risk.
His father had died without warning.
He had watched his mother crumble.
He had inherited an organization before he understood what leadership meant.
And now history was repeating itself.
Catherine whispered,
“Dante, leave this alone.”
“I can't.”
“You have Isabella.”
His head snapped up.
Catherine looked at him.
“You love her.”
“Yes.”
“Then protect her by staying away.”
“That's what I've been doing.”
“No.”
Catherine wiped her tears.
“You've been protecting yourself.”
The sentence struck harder than any accusation the previous night.
Meanwhile, Isabella sat across from Nora in a small café in Manhattan.
Nora had spread papers across the table.
“You were right.”
“About what?”
“The necklace wasn't random.”
Isabella looked at the documents.
“There's a serial number.”
Nora pointed.
“The sapphire necklace is insured.”
“So?”
“The insurance record was updated three days ago.”
“For what?”
“Thirty-five million dollars.”
Isabella nearly dropped her coffee.
“That's impossible.”
“The previous appraisal was nine million.”
“Who increased it?”
Nora slid a paper across.
“Carlo.”
Isabella stared.
“Why would he insure it for thirty-five million?”
“To make a theft claim.”
“But the necklace wasn't stolen.”
“It was after it disappeared.”
Nora continued.
“The insurance company had already been contacted at 9:26.”
Isabella's eyes widened.
“That was four minutes after it was found in my handbag.”
“Exactly.”
“Someone was waiting.”
“Yes.”
“Then this was never about accusing me.”
“It was about creating a theft.”
Isabella looked at the papers.
“Who's listed as beneficiary?”
Nora hesitated.
“The Moretti Heritage Fund.”
Isabella stared.
“Carlo's fund.”
“Yes.”
“So he planned to claim thirty-five million dollars.”
“Maybe.”
“And if I was blamed…”
“The family could say the necklace had been stolen by someone outside the family.”
Isabella shook her head.
“But it was found inside my bag.”
“Which makes you the perfect scapegoat.”
Her stomach turned.
Nora looked at her.
“There's more.”
She opened another file.
“Three months ago, Carlo transferred twelve million dollars out of the foundation.”
“To where?”
“An offshore trust.”
“Whose?”
Nora pointed to the name.
Vittorio Moretti.
Isabella stared.
“Dante's dead uncle?”
“Apparently.”
That afternoon, Isabella received a call.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice answered.
“Isabella Rossi?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Evelyn Hart.”
“Who are you?”
“I used to work for the Moretti family.”
“Used to?”
“I left ten years ago.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because I saw what happened last night.”
Isabella sat up.
“What did you see?”
“Carlo put the necklace in your bag.”
Isabella's heart raced.
“Can you prove it?”
“I have a copy of the old security footage.”
“Where are you?”
“On the train platform at Grand Central.”
“Why there?”
“Because I won't meet anyone from the Moretti family.”
Isabella grabbed her coat.
“Stay there.”
“Isabella.”
“Yes?”
“Don't trust Sophia.”
The line went dead.
At the station, Isabella found Evelyn near Track 23.
Evelyn was in her fifties, elegant but nervous.
She handed Isabella a flash drive.
“This is everything.”
“What is it?”
“Security records. Financial records. Audio.”
“Audio?”
Evelyn lowered her voice.
“I recorded a conversation between Carlo and Sophia six weeks ago.”
Isabella looked at the drive.
“What did they say?”
“They said your wedding couldn't happen.”
“Why?”
“Because once you married Dante, you would gain access to certain accounts.”
Isabella's stomach tightened.
“What accounts?”
Evelyn looked around.
“The Moretti estate trust.”
“Why would they care?”
“Because Dante planned to move control of it after the wedding.”
Isabella stared.
“To whom?”
“To you.”
She felt dizzy.
Dante had never told her.
Evelyn nodded.
“He planned to put you on the trust board.”
Isabella's eyes filled.
“So Carlo wanted me gone.”
“Yes.”
“Then why the necklace?”
“Because he needed a reason.”
Before Isabella could answer, a figure appeared at the end of the platform.
Evelyn's face went white.
“They found me.”
“Who?”
Evelyn grabbed Isabella.
“Run.”
A train roared into the station.
They moved through the crowd.
Isabella held the drive tightly.
Behind them, footsteps followed.
They turned into a crowded concourse.
A man in a gray coat passed them.
Evelyn whispered,
“Don't look.”
Too late.
The man turned.
Isabella recognized him.
One of Dante's security men.
She stopped.
“He's one of Dante's.”
Evelyn looked shocked.
“Then we're already in trouble.”
The man approached.
“Ms. Rossi.”
“What?”
“I was sent by Mr. Moretti.”
Isabella's heart jumped.
“What does he want?”
The guard handed her a note.
She opened it.
Don't go home.
That's all.
No signature.
She read it twice.
“Why?”
The guard shook his head.
“He said you'd understand.”
She did.
Dante knew.
He knew she was investigating.
And more importantly, someone from his own family was watching her.
That evening, Dante arrived at Carlo's penthouse.
Carlo was waiting with a drink.
“I wondered when you'd come.”
Dante closed the door.
“Where's the money?”
Carlo smiled.
“What money?”
“The twelve million.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Then let me simplify.”
Dante walked closer.
“You framed Isabella.”
Carlo's smile disappeared.
“She was carrying the necklace.”
“You planted it.”
“Can you prove it?”
Dante stared at him.
“Yes.”
Carlo laughed.
“Then why haven't you arrested me?”
“Because I want to know why.”
Carlo's expression changed.
“You always were sentimental.”
“This isn't sentiment.”
“What is it?”
“It's family.”
Carlo shook his head.
“You still believe in family?”
Dante went silent.
Carlo continued.
“You shouldn't.”
“Explain.”
“Ask your mother about the night your father died.”
Dante's eyes narrowed.
“I already did.”
“And?”
“She said it was an accident.”
Carlo smiled.
“She lied.”
Dante grabbed his collar.
“Careful.”
Carlo didn't flinch.
“Your father wasn't killed by my father.”
“Then who?”
Carlo leaned closer.
“Your father was killed by someone you still protect.”
Dante released him.
“Who?”
Carlo smiled again.
“Sophia.”
The room went silent.
Dante stared.
“You're lying.”
“Maybe.”
“Why would she kill him?”
Carlo's answer was quiet.
“Because he discovered what she had done.”
“What?”
Carlo stepped away.
“The foundation.”
Dante's blood ran cold.
“The thirty-five million?”
“No.”
Carlo looked directly at him.
“The necklace.”
Dante's expression hardened.
Carlo laughed.
“You still don't understand.”
The sapphire necklace was not merely jewelry.
It contained something hidden.
Something that had been inside the Moretti family for generations.
A secret capable of destroying the family.
May you like
And Carlo had just told Dante the one thing he had feared most.
Someone had wanted Isabella accused because she had accidentally gotten too close to discovering it.
