Chapter 7 - the inheritance clause
Vincent's father had loved conditions.
Conditions in contracts.
Conditions in partnerships.
Conditions in wills.
Carlo Moretti believed unconditional trust was another word for stupidity.
When he died, his will had transferred operational control of Moretti Holdings to Vincent.
But a separate family trust controlled the original estate, several historic properties, and a large block of voting shares.
Vincent had barely thought about it in years.
The trust was scheduled to dissolve when he turned forty.
Sunday.
Isabella and Vincent drove to the Manhattan office of Carlo's former estate attorney at two in the morning.
Arthur Klein was seventy-three and furious about being awakened.
Then Vincent explained.
Arthur became less angry.
And much more nervous.
"I told your father this structure was unnecessarily complicated."
"What happens when I turn forty?"
"You receive permanent control."
"Unless?"
Arthur looked at Isabella.
"Unless a challenge is filed."
"What kind of challenge?"
"A family trustee can allege incapacity, coercion, financial misconduct, or compromised judgment."
Vincent understood instantly.
"Isabella."
Arthur nodded.
"If someone establishes that your fiancée manipulated you into approving fraudulent transfers, a trustee could seek an emergency freeze."
"Who is the current family trustee?"
Arthur hesitated.
"Your mother."
Vincent stared at him.
Eleanor Moretti.
The familiar voice.
The old photograph of Adrian.
The woman saying Vincent always forgave her.
Isabella watched the truth hit him.
"Your mother could take control?"
"Temporarily," Arthur said. "Until a court resolves the challenge."
"How long?"
"Months. Possibly years."
"Enough time to move assets."
Arthur said nothing.
Vincent leaned forward.
"Did my mother know Adrian before I did?"
Arthur's face changed.
"Why are you asking?"
"Answer."
Arthur walked toward a cabinet.
He removed an old file.
Inside were records from a lawsuit involving Adrian's father.
David Cole had been chief financial officer of one of Carlo Moretti's early companies.
Twenty-two years earlier, David had been accused of embezzlement.
Carlo had fired him.
David later died deeply in debt.
Arthur handed Vincent a letter.
It was written by Eleanor Moretti.
To Adrian.
You deserve to know what Carlo did to your father.
Vincent read the line again.
"When?"
"Two years after David died," Arthur said.
"Why was my mother writing to him?"
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do."
Arthur looked away.
"Your parents' marriage was complicated."
"Stop protecting dead people and tell me."
Arthur exhaled.
"Eleanor believed Carlo blamed David Cole for losses that were actually Carlo's responsibility."
"So she contacted Adrian."
"Yes."
"How long did they stay in contact?"
"I don't know."
Vincent looked at the photograph from room 27.
Adrian at seventeen.
Already near the family.
Arthur studied it.
"I've never seen that."
Isabella asked, "Could Eleanor remove money from the trust during an emergency freeze?"
"Not legally."
"That wasn't my question."
Arthur went quiet.
Vincent said, "Could she?"
"With the right signatures and temporary authority, she could restructure holdings."
Isabella understood the plan.
Frame her.
Make Vincent appear compromised.
Trigger the challenge.
Transfer control to Eleanor.
Then move assets through companies Adrian controlled.
Northstar.
Perhaps dozens more.
Vincent stood.
"I'm calling her."
Isabella stopped him.
"No."
"She's my mother."
"Exactly."
He looked at her sharply.
"If she is involved, calling tells her what we know."
"And if she isn't?"
"Then she's still safer not knowing until we find Mia."
Vincent hated the logic because it was correct.
His phone rang.
The mansion.
A detective.
They had found blood.
Vincent's face hardened.
"Whose?"
"Unknown. Small amount. West corridor."
Isabella grabbed her coat.
They returned immediately.
The blood was near the cellar entrance.
Not much.
A few drops.
The detective believed it could come from a minor injury.
Lily's key had not been found.
Then a search officer approached.
"We found something else."
He held up a phone.
Mia's.
Recovered from a laundry cart.
Its screen was cracked.
There was one unsent message.
To Isabella.
May you like
Four words.
Lily knows where I am.
