Chapter 4 - THE BROTHER WHO STOOD BESIDE THE COFFIN
Lorenzo Moretti was forty-four.
Four years younger than me.
He had my father's eyes, my mother's stubbornness, and a talent for making enemies feel like friends.
When our father was murdered, Lorenzo was twenty-one.
I was twenty-five.
I took control of the organization.
Lorenzo handled investments.
For years, I trusted him with every number I didn't have time to examine.
Now I sat in my study reviewing transactions that made my blood run cold.
The hidden trust existed.
My father's attorney had confirmed it.
Its terms were complicated, but Elena had been right about one essential point.
My biological children had inheritance rights Lorenzo had spent years concealing.
And millions had been moved out of trust-controlled companies through questionable transactions.
I summoned my attorney, Margaret Keene.
She arrived with two forensic accountants.
They reviewed the documents.
Three hours later, Margaret looked up.
“Alejandro, these transactions are serious.”
“How serious?”
“Potential fraud. Misappropriation. False corporate records.”
“Can we prove Lorenzo authorized them?”
“Some. Not all.”
I leaned back.
“Find the rest.”
Then I asked her to investigate Sofia's death certificate.
Margaret hesitated.
“You want to reopen the medical records?”
“Yes.”
“Alejandro—”
“My wife may have survived.”
Her expression changed.
She closed her folder.
“Then we start immediately.”
That evening, I visited the dining room.
The table had been cleaned.
Four small plates sat near one end.
Elena was helping the boys finish dinner.
I stopped in the doorway.
For five years, nobody had used that table.
Sofia had loved hosting family meals.
After her funeral, I ordered the dining room closed.
I couldn't bear to sit there without her.
Now four boys were arguing about who had received the biggest potato.
Gabriel pointed at Nico.
“He has more.”
Nico frowned.
“I don't.”
Mateo raised his fork.
“I have three.”
Luca sighed.
“Can everybody stop counting?”
I stood there watching them.
Then Elena noticed me.
“Would you like to join us?”
The room went quiet.
Four pairs of eyes turned toward me.
I hesitated.
Then pulled out a chair.
“Yes.”
During dinner, Mateo looked at my hands.
“Why do you have scars?”
I glanced down.
Old injuries.
Some from fights.
Some from mistakes I didn't want my children repeating.
“I made bad choices when I was younger.”
He considered that.
“Did you say sorry?”
I looked at him.
“Not enough.”
He nodded solemnly.
“You should.”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
After dinner, Luca approached me.
He held Sofia's photograph.
“Can I ask something?”
“Anything.”
“Did you love our mommy?”
My chest tightened.
“More than I knew how to explain.”
He stared.
“Then why did she hide us?”
I looked at the handwriting.
Keep them safe from Alejandro.
“I don't know yet.”
Luca nodded.
Then whispered:
“Maybe she was scared.”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
He looked down.
“Sometimes grown-ups get scared too.”
I knelt.
“Every day.”
That night, Margaret called.
Her voice was tense.
“We found the physician who signed Sofia's death certificate.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“Dead. He was killed in a boating accident two years ago.”
My stomach tightened.
“But his former nurse is alive.”
“Where is she?”
Margaret hesitated.
“She says she'll speak only if you come alone.”
I looked toward the nursery.
Four boys were sleeping upstairs.
May you like
And somewhere, my wife might still be alive.
“Arrange it,” I said.
