Chapter 5 - WHO BENEFITED FROM JULIAN’S WHEELCHAIR?
The answer seemed obvious.
Lorenzo.
If Julian became physically vulnerable, his uncle gained influence.
Matteo became a possible successor.
Victoria gained control over medical decisions.
Security expanded.
Doctors became indispensable.
Everyone around Julian acquired a new reason to stand closer.
But Julian asked a different question.
“What changed financially after my injury?”
Arthur looked at him.
“Several things.”
“List them.”
Julian’s legitimate business empire had four major divisions.
Shipping.
Real estate.
Hospitality.
Private logistics.
After the attack, Julian stopped traveling internationally.
Lorenzo began representing him in foreign negotiations.
Victoria took over foundation activities.
Matteo managed several real-estate holdings.
But the largest change involved shipping insurance.
Before Julian’s injury, Vescari Maritime was preparing to replace its longtime insurance consortium.
The move would have cost one company nearly ninety million dollars over the next decade.
Julian’s attack delayed the transition.
The old contract remained.
Company name:
Bellwether Risk Group.
I stared.
“Bell.”
Julian shook his head.
“Coincidence. No relation.”
The primary owner was a man named Samuel Voss.
I knew the name.
Not from Julian.
From Dad.
One of Dad’s final invoices had been sent to Voss Executive Transport.
“What did my father do for him?”
Arthur investigated.
Dad serviced one vehicle owned by Voss.
Six weeks before Julian’s attack.
That vehicle later appeared on traffic cameras near Lower Wacker.
Not part of the attack.
Nearby.
Julian said:
“Surveillance.”
Arthur nodded.
Somebody had been studying the route.
The conspiracy grew beyond family politics.
Dad may have discovered it.
Matteo may have believed him.
Gabriel Bell may have tried to stop it.
Then all three were neutralized differently.
Dad died.
Gabriel died.
Matteo was nearly killed.
I looked at Julian.
“Your family was bait.”
“Yes.”
“Someone wanted you looking inward.”
“Yes.”
“Lorenzo’s code was copied deliberately.”
“Yes.”
“Matteo’s access was used deliberately.”
“Yes.”
“Victoria’s secret protocol made her look guilty.”
“Yes.”
I almost laughed.
“Your family made framing them incredibly easy.”
Julian smiled faintly.
“We have many talents.”
The public pressure became worse.
News outlets learned Matteo had been hospitalized.
Rumors claimed the Vescari family was at war with itself.
Vescari Maritime stock partners began panicking.
Banks asked questions.
Samuel Voss appeared on television offering calm analysis.
He described Julian as “a capable businessman facing difficult personal circumstances.”
I disliked him instantly.
Julian watched the interview.
“He wants me removed.”
“From what?”
“Company control.”
“Can insurance companies do that?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Lenders can.”
Voss had relationships with three major lenders backing Vescari Maritime expansion.
If Julian was viewed as unstable, leadership could be forced into restructuring.
Someone had spent twenty-six months manufacturing instability.
An attack.
Paralysis.
Internal distrust.
Now attempted drowning.
This wasn’t simply murder.
It was corporate conquest disguised as mafia warfare.
That was newer.
And smarter.
Julian looked at me.
“You should leave.”
“No.”
“We have enough now.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“My father died inside this.”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re telling me to go home?”
“I am telling you Voss has money, political relationships, private investigators, and people willing to kill.”
“You also have those things.”
“I am trying to have fewer.”
That stopped me.
I looked at him.
“What?”
Julian looked toward the lake.
“For two years, I have been dismantling the parts of my family organization that my father built illegally.”
I stared.
“You’re leaving the mafia?”
“I dislike that word.”
“It’s concise.”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“My father believed fear was infrastructure.”
“And you?”
“I used to.”
“What changed?”
Julian looked down at the wheelchair.
The answer was obvious.
“Everybody around me assumed this made me weaker.”
His hand touched the wheel.
“Instead, it made certain things impossible to ignore.”
“Like?”
“Half the men who called themselves loyal were only loyal to a version of me they feared.”
He looked at me.
“I had twenty-six months to learn the difference.”
Something changed inside me then.
I had entered his mansion expecting a monster.
He might once have been one.
Maybe parts of him still were.
But he was trying to walk away from a world that benefited from him remaining feared.
Voss needed the old Julian.
Lorenzo needed the old hierarchy.
Enemies needed violence.
Even allies needed a boss everyone obeyed automatically.
That obedience almost drowned him.
“Then don’t send me away.”
His eyes held mine.
“Why?”
“Because I’m the only person at that lake who disobeyed.”
Silence.
Julian smiled.
Slowly.
“You make a compelling argument.”
“Thank you.”
“I still dislike it.”
“I’ll survive.”
He looked toward my hands.
There were still healing cuts across two fingers from tearing open his jacket underwater.
Julian reached forward.
Stopped before touching them.
“May I?”
The question surprised me.
“Yes.”
He took my hand carefully.
His thumb brushed the cut.
“Your father saved my life once.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Three days before the attack, he warned me there was an unauthorized change in my vehicle system.”
“But the attack still happened.”
“I didn’t listen fast enough.”
Julian’s eyes lowered.
“I thought he was being paranoid.”
My chest hurt.
“Dad died believing he failed.”
“No.”
Julian looked up.
“He died because he refused to stop.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
Then Arthur entered again.
“Matteo woke up.”
Julian released my hand.
We went to the hospital.
Matteo looked terrible.
Bruising.
Stitches.
One eye swollen.
He smiled weakly when he saw Julian.
“You look worse.”
Julian replied:
“I nearly drowned.”
“Show-off.”
Family affection in the Vescari family apparently involved insults.
Matteo looked at me.
“Martin’s daughter.”
“Yes.”
“He talked about you constantly.”
My throat tightened.
“What happened to Dad?”
Matteo’s smile vanished.
“He found Voss.”
Julian leaned forward.
“Explain.”
Matteo said:
“Martin discovered someone was paying maintenance vendors to copy Vescari authorization codes.”
“Voss?”
“Yes.”
“Proof?”
“I had it.”
“Had?”
Matteo looked toward the door.
“The person who attacked me took it.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why were you leaving?”
“I wasn’t.”
He looked at Julian.
“I booked Toronto because I wanted whoever was watching to think I was running.”
“For what reason?”
“To make them follow.”
“Did they?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Matteo swallowed.
“I didn’t see his face.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because before he hit me, he said something.”
“What?”
Matteo looked directly at Julian.
“Tell your cousin the chair should have finished what the car started.”
Silence.
The same person.
Same plan.
Matteo continued:
“There’s one more thing.”
He looked at me.
“Martin recorded his meeting with Voss.”
My heart pounded.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“He gave it to you.”
“No.”
Matteo shook his head.
“He said he put it somewhere nobody in the Vescari family would ever look.”
Julian and I exchanged a glance.
Then I knew.
My father didn’t trust Julian.
He didn’t trust Matteo.
He didn’t trust any mansion or office.
Where would he put evidence powerful men would never search?
Somewhere belonging to the one person nobody in their world considered important.
May you like
Me.
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