Chapter 5 - THE FIRST LIE
We returned to Florence under police protection.
Mrs. Bellini came with us.
Her house was no longer safe, and after what had happened, neither was she.
Noah sat beside me in the back of the armored vehicle with Lily’s rabbit on his lap.
He had placed the brass key inside the rabbit again.
No one outside the vehicle knew he had it.
I watched him stitch the opening with a hotel sewing kit.
His stitches were crooked but strong.
“Grandma taught me,” he said.
“When?”
“Before she got sick.”
I had forgotten.
My mother had spent hours teaching Noah small practical things.
How to sew a button.
How to recognize spoiled milk.
How to keep emergency money in a shoe.
How to notice which adults looked at exits when they entered a room.
At the time, I thought she was passing down habits formed through poverty.
Now, I wondered whether she had been preparing him.
“Did Grandma ever give you anything else?” I asked.
Noah considered.
“A word.”
“What word?”
“She said I should remember it when people started lying.”
My pulse quickened.
“What was it?”
“Luce.”
Light.
“What exactly did she say?”
“That darkness only wins when people forget to look for light.”
Mrs. Bellini leaned forward from the front seat.
“She used that word as a password.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
By the time we reached the hotel, Daniel had sent the incorporation documents.
Sofia Moretti had signed every page.
The signature looked genuine.
Mara compared it with old tax records and handwritten letters.
The pressure points, slant, and spacing matched.
My mother had created Bellmere Coastal Holdings herself.
But Bellmere had never conducted business until eight months earlier, when money began moving out of my marriage.
A dormant company had awakened six years after its owner’s death.
“What was the company originally for?” I asked during the video call.
Mara adjusted her glasses.
“The original purpose was listed as property preservation and private custodial services.”
“Meaning?”
“It could hold real estate, documents, or money for someone.”
“Who owned the shares?”
“That is the strange part.”
“Sofia?”
“No. She was the director, not the beneficial owner.”
“Who was?”
“The filing uses a sealed trust designation.”
Daniel appeared in a second window.
“We have applied to unseal it.”
“How long?”
“Normally weeks.”
“We do not have weeks.”
“No, we don’t.”
Mrs. Bellini sat nearby drinking tea.
She had said little since learning my mother signed the documents.
Finally, she spoke.
“Sofia always said the company was her insurance.”
I turned toward her.
“Insurance against what?”
“Being forgotten.”
Daniel heard her.
“Mrs. Bellini, did Sofia ever mention the name Bellmere?”
She closed her eyes.
“Once.”
“When?”
“After Isabella disappeared.”
I leaned closer.
“What did she say?”
“That Bellmere was the only place the truth could survive.”
“Bellmere is not a place.”
“Perhaps it was once.”
Mara began searching property archives while Daniel examined the trust filing.
I called Adrian.
It was the first time I had initiated contact since he left.
He answered after one ring.
“Elena.”
He sounded exhausted.
“Did you send men to Mrs. Bellini’s house?”
“What?”
“Do not pretend you don’t know where I am.”
“I know you are in Italy because you took my children there without discussing it.”
“You told me to keep them.”
“I was angry.”
“You were eating toast.”
He exhaled.
“What happened at the house?”
Two possibilities entered my mind.
Either he truly did not know, or he had become a better actor than I realized.
“Someone broke in looking for a key.”
“What key?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer was my first deliberate lie to him.
It felt easier than expected.
“Where are Noah and Lily?” he asked.
“Safe.”
“I want to speak to them.”
“No.”
“You cannot prevent me from speaking to my children.”
“I am preventing them from speaking to a man who abandoned them yesterday and has not asked how they are until now.”
“I have had a difficult twenty-four hours.”
I almost admired the selfishness.
“Did you discover your mistress’s baby belongs to your brother before or after my lawyer froze your accounts?”
Silence.
The wound landed.
“I made mistakes,” he said.
“You committed crimes.”
“I did not steal from the children.”
“The apartment purchase used their trust.”
“I authorized an investment.”
“The apartment does not exist.”
Another silence.
This one felt different.
“What do you mean?”
“The registry number belongs to a building demolished in 1987.”
“That is impossible.”
“Your favorite word.”
“Elena, I was shown the property.”
“By Celeste?”
He did not answer.
“Did you ever stand inside it?”
“I saw a virtual tour.”
I closed my eyes.
The chief executive of a multibillion-dollar company had transferred millions based on a virtual tour because a beautiful woman told him it was real.
But I knew Adrian.
He was arrogant, not stupid.
“You verified the transaction through the family office.”
“Yes.”
“Who handled it?”
“Marcus Vale.”
The name struck me.
Marcus had worked for Conrad for nearly thirty years.
He controlled the family’s private accounts, security arrangements, and confidential acquisitions.
“Was Marcus’s vehicle outside St. Catherine’s when Julian called me?”
Adrian’s breathing changed.
“How do you know Julian called?”
“He told me the baby was his.”
“What else did he tell you?”
Fear had entered Adrian’s voice.
I heard it clearly.
“Why are you afraid of your brother?”
“I’m not.”
“What did he discover?”
“Elena, Julian is unstable.”
“He said someone replaced his genetic profile.”
Adrian said nothing.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did Conrad?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is Julian?”
“I thought he was with you.”
The words chilled me.
“Why would he be with me?”
“He disappeared after leaving the hospital. His apartment was searched.”
“By whom?”
“Marcus says there was no sign of forced entry.”
“Marcus says.”
“Elena, listen to me. Whatever you found, return it.”
“The black folder?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because people are getting hurt.”
“You mean people other than me and the children.”
“I am trying to protect you.”
I laughed.
The sound surprised both of us.
“From whom?”
He lowered his voice.
“My father.”
The admission hung between us.
“Why would Conrad care about documents related to my mother?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“Tell me what you know.”
“I cannot do that on the phone.”
“Then you cannot help me.”
“Elena.”
I ended the call.
He called back immediately.
I declined.
A message appeared.
Do not trust Daniel Mercer.
I stared at it.
Then another arrived.
Ask him who paid for his first law office.
I forwarded both to Daniel.
He called me within seconds.
“I can explain.”
The speed of his response was an answer by itself.
“Then explain.”
“My first firm received investment from a Blackwood subsidiary.”
“Which Blackwood?”
“Conrad.”
I stood.
Mrs. Bellini watched me.
“You told me you were independent.”
“I am.”
“You worked for them.”
“Eighteen years ago.”
The same year Bellmere had been created.
“What did you do?”
“I represented a trust involved in an Italian property dispute.”
“Bellmere?”
“I did not know the company name then.”
“Who was the client?”
“The beneficial owner was sealed.”
“Convenient.”
“I withdrew when I discovered documents had been altered.”
“Altered by whom?”
“Marcus Vale.”
Every road led back to him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I did not know this case was connected until the filing appeared today.”
“And now?”
“Now I believe your mother created Bellmere to hold evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“Something involving the Blackwood family, Isabella Moretti, and a child whose identity was concealed.”
I looked at Mrs. Bellini.
She nodded slowly.
Daniel continued.
“Adrian warned you about me because Conrad knows I once challenged Marcus.”
“Or because you are still working for Conrad.”
“That is possible from your perspective.”
His calmness infuriated me.
“Give me one reason to trust you.”
“I have not asked you for the key.”
I stopped.
“I never told you we still had it.”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because if the attackers had taken it, they would not still be searching your hotel.”
I turned toward the window.
Across the street, a man lowered a camera.
The retired officer moved immediately.
The man ran.
He disappeared into a crowd before security reached him.
My phone buzzed.
A photograph had been sent from an unknown number.
It showed me standing at the window less than five seconds earlier.
Below it were coordinates.
Mara entered them into a map.
The location was beneath Florence’s oldest private bank.
Mrs. Bellini whispered, “The box.”
We went after midnight.
The bank had closed twelve years earlier, but its underground vault had been transferred to a private archival company.
Paolo obtained emergency access through a magistrate.
The brass key opened Box 117.
Inside was no money.
No jewelry.
No property deed.
There was a reel of film, a sealed envelope, and a cassette recorder.
The envelope had my name written in my mother’s hand.
Elena, if you are reading this, then Adrian has chosen the Blackwoods over you.
My hands shook as I opened it.
There was only one page.
Do not believe the first lie.
I looked at Mrs. Bellini.
“What first lie?”
The cassette recorder clicked when Paolo pressed play.
Static filled the underground vault.
Then my mother’s voice emerged.
“My name is Sofia Moretti. The date is October 18, eighteen years ago.”
Everyone fell silent.
“If this recording is being heard, then Conrad Blackwood has found Bellmere, or my daughter has married his son.”
A pause.
My mother took a trembling breath.
“Elena, the first lie is that Isabella ran away.”
Another pause.
“The second lie is that her child belonged to someone else.”
I gripped the edge of the metal table.
“The child was Conrad Blackwood’s.”
Mrs. Bellini covered her mouth.
The recording continued.
“And that child did not disappear.”
My mother’s voice broke.
“He was raised inside the Blackwood family under another woman’s name.”
The cassette stopped.
Noah stood behind me.
I had not realized he entered the vault.
“Who was the baby?” he asked.
Before I could answer, the film projector began turning by itself.
A black-and-white image appeared on the vault wall.
My mother stood beside a hospital bed.
A young woman lay unconscious beneath a blanket.
In Sofia’s arms was a newborn child.
A man entered the frame.
Conrad Blackwood.
He took the baby from her.
Then a second woman appeared.
Victoria.
She held out her arms.
The film cut to black.
May you like
A title card appeared.
JULIAN BLACKWOOD, DAY 1.
