Chapter 6 - The Lawyer Who Knew Everything
Victor had disappeared.
His office was empty.
His phone was turned off.
His family was unreachable.
But the files he had handled were missing too.
Lorenzo was furious.
Not loud.
Worse.
Silent.
“He had access to everything.”
I looked at the photograph.
“Do you think he sent the roses?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Matteo.”
“Why use Victor?”
“Because Victor may not be working for Matteo.”
“What do you mean?”
“He could be working for someone higher.”
That was when I understood.
“Someone higher than the Belladonna Circle?”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“The Circle has a leader.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
I stared.
“But he's dead.”
“Yes.”
“So is everybody in your family.”
He almost smiled.
“Apparently we've been very unlucky at dying.”
We found Victor's car near the river.
Inside was a recording.
He spoke directly to Lorenzo.
“I know you will hate me.”
Lorenzo's jaw clenched.
“But you need the truth.”
Victor said he had been working undercover for federal investigators.
He had tried to dismantle the Belladonna Circle from within.
Matteo was only one branch.
The real leader was someone called The Architect.
A person who manipulated contracts, judges, politicians, shipping routes, and family alliances.
Victor never knew the identity.
Then came the important part.
“The Architect has one weakness.”
He looked toward the camera.
“Julia.”
The screen ended.
I stared.
“Why me?”
Lorenzo said nothing.
Isabella finally answered.
“Because your birth changed the ownership structure.”
“Still not enough.”
She explained.
My grandfather had created a legal trust.
My father and Matteo were both beneficiaries.
But the trust could not be activated until the child born to two designated bloodlines turned thirty.
That child was me.
The assets included companies, ports, properties, and accounts spread across the East Coast.
Billions.
More importantly, control of the old network.
If Matteo could force me to sign, he could reclaim everything.
Lorenzo asked:
“Can they legally force her?”
“Not without documents.”
“Then we destroy the documents.”
Isabella shook her head.
“Copies exist.”
“How many?”
“Hundreds.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So I have to survive until my thirtieth birthday.”
“Not just survive.”
Isabella looked at me.
“You have to choose who controls the trust.”
I looked at Lorenzo.
“And if I choose him?”
Isabella smiled.
“That is the one outcome they fear most.”
“Why?”
“Because Lorenzo would dismantle everything.”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“I would.”
“And they know it.”
The next day, we prepared to move to a federal safe house.
Before we left, I returned to Greco Tower.
My desk was untouched.
The flowers were still there.
The roses had wilted slightly.
I touched the black ribbon.
There was a strange sadness in seeing them.
They had arrived as a message.
Now they felt like a warning.
I picked up the bouquet.
One rose had a tiny metal tag attached to the stem.
I hadn't noticed it before.
It carried a number.
I showed Lorenzo.
He stared.
“It's not a number.”
“What is it?”
“A date.”
October 17.
“My mother's birthday.”
He went still.
Then I understood.
The roses were not from Matteo.
They were from someone who knew Lorenzo's mother personally.
Someone who remembered her.
Someone who wanted me to find the truth.
Lorenzo's phone rang.
Unknown.
He answered.
A woman's voice said:
“Tell Isabella I'm tired of running.”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“Who are you?”
The woman laughed.
“Your father's favorite secret.”
The line ended.
I whispered:
“Elena.”
We traced the call.
An abandoned church in Queens.
We arrived.
The door opened.
A woman stood inside.
Older.
Tired.
But unmistakable.
My mother.
I couldn't move.
She said my name.
“Julia.”
I ran to her.
For the first time in twenty years, I heard her heartbeat against mine.
She held me.
“I am so sorry.”
I cried.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you come back?”
“Because they were watching you.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He wasn't the man you thought he was.”
I stepped back.
“My father was protecting me.”
“He was.”
“Then why did he lie?”
“Because he made an agreement.”
“With whom?”
Elena looked at Lorenzo.
“With his brother.”
“Matteo.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“With The Architect.”
Silence.
“Who is The Architect?”
She looked toward the doorway.
May you like
Then whispered:
“Your father.”
