Chapter 5 - The Man Who Stole Two Fathers
Alessandro arrived at the lakeside house forty minutes after I returned.
He came without a convoy.
But this time he brought something far more useful than armed men.
The truth.
At least part of it.
"Vittorio has been using my authorization credentials," he said as soon as he entered.
Giulia looked up from her laptop.
"For how long?"
"Years."
I stared at him.
"Years?"
He didn't look away.
"After my father died, I gave him signing authority over several holding companies. I revoked parts of it when I began reviewing Tirreno, but the old bank mandates weren't all replaced."
"And you didn't know?"
"I should have."
I laughed bitterly.
"That's becoming the story of your life."
He accepted the insult.
Then he placed a thick folder on the table.
"These are the mandates. I've notified the banks, our compliance counsel, and Conti. They're preserving the records."
Giulia began examining the documents.
I had only one question.
"Where is my mother?"
Alessandro's expression hardened.
"We're working with the authorities to find her."
"Your uncle kidnapped her."
"Yes."
"Then perhaps you should be the one who knows where he is."
He flinched.
Good.
I wanted him to feel something of what I was feeling.
I wanted him to understand what it meant to trust a family that could destroy your life while insisting everything was done for your protection.
I reached for my phone again.
Still no call.
Still no message.
My mother had disappeared less than two hours earlier.
And the silence was becoming unbearable.
"Serena," Alessandro said gently.
"Don't."
He stopped.
"Don't tell me she'll be fine. Don't tell me you have people searching. Don't tell me your uncle wouldn't hurt her."
He said nothing.
"Because my father is dead. Yours is dead. And both men trusted Vittorio."
Alessandro lowered his head.
For the first time, I saw something beyond guilt.
Shame.
Not the shame of a man caught cheating.
The deeper shame of a man beginning to understand how much damage he had allowed because he never questioned the people he loved.
Prosecutor Conti called an hour later.
She had already begun coordinating with investigators responsible for the kidnapping.
She instructed us not to make independent arrangements with Vittorio.
If he contacted us again, we were to preserve the communication and follow the investigators' instructions.
Alessandro agreed.
But I could see how difficult it was for him.
He had never trusted authorities to protect his family.
For years, his answer to threats had been power.
Men.
Money.
Violence.
Now he was being asked to sit still while someone else made decisions.
I almost felt sorry for him.
Then I remembered the hotel room.
I had once begged him to choose me.
He had chosen Bianca.
Now my mother was missing because his uncle believed he could control us through fear.
I refused to spend another moment confusing sympathy with forgiveness.
By midnight, the first news reports appeared.
VITALE MARITIME TRANSACTION FACES FRAUD QUESTIONS.
DISPUTED BELLINI ESTATE DOCUMENTS EMERGE.
Then came another headline.
DON VITALE UNDER SCRUTINY OVER MISSING CORPORATE FUNDS.
I watched Alessandro's face as he read it.
"They're moving quickly," he said.
"Who?"
"Vittorio's lawyers. They're feeding the press."
Giulia nodded.
"They want to undermine his credibility before investigators establish who authorized the transfers."
I looked from one to the other.
"What about mine?"
Giulia hesitated.
Then she showed me an online article.
It suggested I had left Alessandro because I was demanding a large settlement.
A second report claimed that I had recently discovered a financial interest in his company and was using the canceled wedding to pressure the family.
Someone had supplied photographs of me leaving the prosecutor's office.
Someone had described my father's estate documents as suspicious.
And someone had called me a woman seeking revenge against a powerful former fiancé.
I stared at the screen.
My canceled wedding had been humiliating enough.
Now the same people who had watched Alessandro betray me were being invited to believe I was a greedy liar.
I shut the laptop.
"Let them talk."
Giulia studied me.
"Serena—"
"I know who my father was. I know what Alessandro did. And I know I didn't sign that agreement."
My voice strengthened.
"If Vittorio wants to tell the world I'm lying, he can explain his documents in court."
Alessandro looked at me.
There was something in his expression I recognized.
Admiration.
I hated how much I still wanted it.
At two in the morning, he found me in the kitchen.
I was making tea I didn't intend to drink.
He stood in the doorway.
"May I come in?"
The question almost broke my heart.
For thirteen years, Alessandro had never needed permission to enter a room where I stood.
He had simply belonged there.
Now he waited.
I nodded.
He came inside but remained near the counter.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said.
I set down the kettle.
"About Vittorio?"
"About me."
I felt tired.
"Alessandro, I cannot survive another confession tonight."
"I know."
He looked toward the window.
"But this matters."
I waited.
"After my father died, Vittorio convinced me a rival organization had ordered the killing. He gave me names, photographs, accounts of meetings."
I remembered those years.
Alessandro was twenty-nine when Salvatore died.
He had been angry.
Grieving.
Desperate to prove he deserved the position he had inherited.
Vittorio stood beside him, offering advice.
I had been grateful someone could guide him.
"Some of the men I went after were involved in crimes," Alessandro continued. "But I never independently verified every accusation Vittorio made."
My hands went cold.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I was so determined to avenge my father that I let my uncle decide who deserved punishment."
The kitchen seemed suddenly smaller.
"Did you kill innocent people?"
He looked at me.
"I can't honestly tell you that everyone harmed by my decisions was guilty."
I stepped backward.
He made no attempt to follow.
"Serena, I need you to understand something. Vittorio may have manipulated me. That doesn't remove my responsibility."
I stared at the man I had loved for thirteen years.
I had known he was dangerous.
I had known he led a criminal organization.
But knowing something in the abstract was different from hearing him acknowledge the human consequences.
"Why are you telling me this now?" I whispered.
"Because I'm going to give Conti everything."
I looked at him.
"Everything?"
"Records. Payments. Names. Orders I approved. All of it."
"You could go to prison."
"I know."
"For years."
"I know."
"Your empire could collapse."
He smiled sadly.
"Serena, my empire was already collapsing. I just didn't notice because I was still standing in the middle of it."
I felt tears gathering.
It would have been easier if he were still arrogant.
Easier if he demanded forgiveness.
Easier if he blamed Bianca or Vittorio for everything.
But he was standing in front of me, offering a truth that might destroy him.
And I didn't know what to do with that.
"What about Bianca?" I asked.
His expression tightened.
"She means nothing to my future."
"She meant something to your past."
"Yes."
"Eleven months."
"Yes."
"And after I found you together, you stayed with her."
His eyes filled with pain.
"Yes."
"Nine hours, Alessandro."
"I know."
I shook my head.
"No. You don't know what those hours felt like."
He looked down.
"I waited at that hotel for you to come after me. I sat in my car thinking you would arrive before I reached the highway."
A tear slipped down my cheek.
"I checked my phone at every service station. I stopped twice because I thought maybe you were calling."
He stood motionless.
"And when I finally understood you weren't coming, I realized I had spent thirteen years making excuses for a man who couldn't even choose me when he was caught destroying me."
He closed his eyes.
"I have no defense."
"Good."
I wiped my face.
"Because I don't want one."
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then he turned toward the door.
Before leaving, he paused.
"Serena, I did love you."
I felt the words strike somewhere deep.
"I know."
He looked back.
"That's what makes it unforgivable, isn't it?"
I swallowed.
"That's what makes it hurt."
The following morning, Bianca returned.
This time, she came with an attorney.
She had agreed to provide a formal statement about the meetings she overheard between Vittorio and Carlo Moretti.
She also brought a copy of an old calendar from her father's office.
One entry caught Conti's attention.
A meeting scheduled on the evening before Salvatore's murder.
V.V. — C.M. — S.V.
Vittorio Vitale.
Carlo Moretti.
Salvatore Vitale.
Location: a private warehouse office near Civitavecchia.
According to Alessandro, Salvatore had spent his final evening at home.
But the calendar suggested otherwise.
Conti requested additional records.
Bianca sat across from me, looking exhausted.
"I need to say something," she said.
I said nothing.
"I didn't know about your father at the beginning."
"At the beginning of what?"
"The affair."
I looked away.
She continued.
"Vittorio told me Alessandro was unhappy. He said your relationship had become an obligation."
"And you believed him?"
"I wanted to."
Those three words almost made me laugh.
How many people had destroyed my life because they wanted to believe something convenient?
Bianca's eyes filled.
"When I realized Alessandro wasn't going to leave you, I became angry. I thought if I could make him admit he loved me, he'd change his mind."
"So you made sure I heard him in Venice?"
She hesitated.
My stomach tightened.
"Bianca?"
Her face crumpled.
"Yes."
The room fell silent.
I stared at her.
"You knew I was coming?"
"I overheard him tell his assistant you were planning a surprise."
I remembered calling Alessandro's office to ask which hotel he was using.
I had told his assistant not to spoil the surprise.
Bianca wiped her cheeks.
"I knew you'd arrive that night. I asked Alessandro whether he loved me because I wanted you to hear him say it."
The memory returned with brutal clarity.
The closed hotel door.
Bianca's questions.
Alessandro answering.
The kiss.
The watch box falling from my hand.
I had believed I interrupted a private conversation.
Now I understood I had walked into a confrontation Bianca had helped arrange.
"You wanted to destroy my wedding," I whispered.
She nodded.
"I thought if you left him, he would choose me."
I stood.
"Get out."
"Serena—"
"Get out of my house."
She rose.
"I am sorry."
I looked at her.
"You are sorry because it didn't work."
Her face tightened.
"You're right."
That answer startled me.
But I had no energy left for her regrets.
"Then tell the prosecutor everything. After that, stay away from me."
She left without another word.
Later, Giulia told me Bianca's testimony could help establish the circumstances surrounding the hotel confrontation, but it would not excuse Alessandro's choices.
I already knew that.
He had loved another woman for eleven months.
No one had forced him to.
Bianca had arranged for me to discover the betrayal.
But Alessandro had created the betrayal itself.
That distinction mattered.
By evening, Conti's investigators had traced one of Vittorio's recent vehicles to a storage complex south of Rome.
They also located evidence of contact between a man associated with Carlo Moretti and the garage mentioned in Nadia's records.
The investigation was advancing.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered with trembling hands.
"Hello?"
My mother's voice came through.
"Serena?"
I nearly dropped the phone.
"Mom!"
"Sweetheart, listen to me."
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm alive."
There was a pause.
Then Vittorio spoke.
"Good evening, Serena."
My blood turned cold.
"Let her go."
"I intend to."
"What do you want?"
"The original documents from the boathouse."
I looked toward Giulia.
She was already signaling for me to keep him talking.
"And the key," Vittorio added.
"The key doesn't matter anymore."
He laughed softly.
"You really are Marco's daughter."
"Where is my mother?"
"That depends on how quickly you learn to be reasonable."
He named an abandoned warehouse near the coast.
He wanted the documents delivered before midnight.
No police.
No Alessandro.
No one else.
I felt my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
"And if I don't come?"
Vittorio's voice became colder.
"Your mother made the mistake of accepting my generosity fifteen years ago. It would be a shame if she finally had to pay for it."
The line went dead.
Giulia immediately contacted Conti.
I stood frozen.
Alessandro entered from the hallway.
He saw my face and stopped.
"Serena?"
I looked at him.
"Your uncle wants the documents."
He approached slowly.
"And?"
"He's threatening my mother."
Alessandro's jaw hardened.
"We'll get her back."
I shook my head.
"Don't promise me something you can't control."
He stood in front of me.
Then, quietly, he said, "You're right."
He took a breath.
"But I can promise you this. Whatever happens, I won't hide what I've done, and I won't let my uncle dictate what we do next."
For the first time since Venice, I looked into his eyes and saw the man I had once believed could stand against anything.
But this time, I did not need a man who could command an army.
I needed one who could tell the truth.
At 10:37 that night, Prosecutor Conti called.
Her investigators had located the warehouse Vittorio mentioned.
They were preparing a controlled operation.
Then she told me something that changed everything.
One of the individuals believed to be guarding my mother had been identified.
His name was Gabriele Fontana.
A former employee of the garage that serviced my father's car the night before his death.
The same man whose name appeared in Nadia's records.
May you like
The man who might finally be able to tell me what happened to Marco Bellini.
And according to Conti, he had worked for Vittorio Vitale for fifteen years.
