Chapter 13 - WHAT TERESA BURIED WITH HER NAME
We arrived at the cemetery before sunset.
My mother’s grave looked exactly as it had six months earlier.
Small.
Quiet.
Ordinary.
That almost angered me.
Nothing about Teresa Romano had been ordinary.
Vincent stood several yards away.
Gabriel stayed farther back.
He understood I needed space.
A federal forensic team used the coordinates.
They did not open the grave.
The numbers pointed to a stone marker fifteen feet behind it.
An old maintenance monument.
Beneath a removable slab was a waterproof container.
Inside lay several documents.
A miniature recorder.
A small black notebook.
And a letter.
For Isabella.
My hands shook.
I opened it.
Bella,
If you found this, then people have already told you too many versions of my life.
Some will call me Alessandra.
Some will call me Teresa.
Both women were me.
Neither name matters as much as the choices I made.
I wanted to protect you.
Sometimes I protected you badly.
Sometimes I confused silence with safety.
Please do better than I did.
I wiped my eyes.
Every sentence felt like hearing her voice.
I continued.
Daniel loved you before you were born.
He believed you were his.
I allowed him to believe that because I wanted it to be true.
Years later I discovered that your biological father was Julian Moretti.
That truth requires explanation.
I stopped.
My stomach tightened.
Vivian stood beside me.
She said nothing.
I read on.
Julian was Antonio’s son from a relationship before Elena.
He was sent away as a child.
Antonio financially supported him but refused to acknowledge him publicly.
Julian returned when he was twenty-four.
He hated the Morettis.
He hated Antonio.
And for a short time, I believed his anger made him honest.
I was wrong.
My mother had become involved with her own half-brother?
Then I saw the next line.
Julian and I were not biologically related.
I exhaled sharply.
Vincent frowned.
“What?”
I handed him the page.
He read.
Antonio later discovered Julian was not actually his biological child.
His mother had lied about paternity.
By then the Moretti family had already treated Julian as a hidden son for years.
Julian discovered the truth before I did.
He never told me.
He allowed me to believe we shared a father because he understood exactly what scandal could buy him.
My stomach twisted.
“So he manipulated her.”
Vincent looked furious.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
The letter continued.
When I became pregnant, Julian wanted the child recognized.
Not because he loved me.
Because a child linked to two Moretti branches gave him leverage over Antonio.
When I refused, he threatened me.
Daniel helped me escape him.
That is why I named Daniel on your birth certificate.
He was the only man who ever behaved like your father.
Gabriel turned away.
His shoulders shook.
I continued.
Julian became Jonathan Reed.
He infiltrated Vincent’s life years later.
I discovered his identity only recently.
If I had gone directly to Vincent, Julian would have known immediately.
So I hid one final thing.
The proof of everything Julian did with Marco and Salvatore.
It is not in the ledger.
It is not in Belladonna House.
It is inside the place where lies were first made permanent.
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Vivian looked at the cemetery.
“A grave.”
Vincent shook his head.
“Whose?”
I continued reading.
Ask Elena who is buried beneath Alessandra Moretti’s headstone.
Everyone went silent.
Vincent stared at his mother.
Elena sat inside a nearby vehicle.
He walked toward her.
She saw his expression.
“What?”
“Who is buried in Alessandra’s grave?”
Elena went pale.
“No.”
“Mother.”
“We cannot open that grave.”
“Why?”
“Because the person inside was murdered.”
Silence.
Thomas Reed stepped closer.
“Who?”
Elena whispered.
“Daniel Caruso’s father.”
Gabriel’s face became white.
“My father?”
Elena began crying.
“Yes.”
Gabriel stumbled backward.
“You told me he disappeared.”
“Salvatore killed him.”
“Why?”
“Debt was the cover story.”
“What was the real reason?”
“He knew Julian wasn’t Antonio’s son.”
Gabriel looked sick.
“My father knew?”
“He had proof.”
“What proof?”
“Letters from Julian’s mother.”
Thomas’s expression sharpened.
“And Salvatore buried him under Alessandra’s name.”
Elena nodded.
“So nobody would ever look.”
Gabriel walked away.
Nobody stopped him.
For twenty-eight years he had believed his father abandoned him.
Another lie.
Another grave.
I looked at my mother’s letter.
The phrase made sense.
The place where lies were first made permanent.
Alessandra Moretti’s grave.
A court order was obtained that evening.
The grave was opened the next morning.
Human remains were inside.
So was a metal case.
Protected beneath the coffin.
The case contained dozens of letters.
Financial records.
Photographs.
And a videotape.
Thomas arranged for immediate digitization.
That night we watched it inside a secure federal office.
The recording had been made in 1998.
My mother sat alone.
Pregnant.
Terrified.
“My name is Alessandra Moretti.”
“If you are watching this, then someone decided I was more valuable dead than alive.”
She looked directly into the camera.
“Julian Reed is the father of my child.”
“He knows he has no biological Moretti claim.”
“He intends to use my daughter to create one.”
My hands shook.
“He is working with Marco Moretti.”
“They promised Salvatore DeMarco ownership interests in exchange for helping them.”
“Antonio knows part of the plan.”
“Elena knows almost none of it.”
“Daniel Caruso knows I am running.”
“He does not know why.”
Then my mother leaned toward the camera.
“But there is one person I trust.”
She said a name.
“Camille DeMarco.”
Vivian began crying quietly.
The video continued.
“If something happens, Camille has the original paternity documents.”
Vivian looked at her mother.
Camille went pale.
“What?”
“You have them?”
Camille shook her head.
“I did.”
“Where are they?”
“I gave them to Salvatore.”
Vivian stared at her.
“Why?”
“He told me he was taking them to federal investigators.”
Thomas sighed.
“He never did.”
Camille covered her face.
“I believed him.”
Vivian stood abruptly.
“Everyone believed him.”
She paced.
“My mother believed him.”
“Elena believed him.”
“Teresa feared him.”
“You all kept giving that man every piece of evidence.”
Camille began crying.
Vivian stopped.
She immediately regretted the outburst.
She knelt beside her mother.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
Camille touched her face.
“You’re right.”
Thomas paused the video.
“The paternity documents may still exist.”
Vincent looked toward him.
“With Salvatore.”
“Or Julian.”
My phone buzzed.
A message.
From Jonathan.
DID YOU ENJOY YOUR MOTHER’S MOVIE?
My stomach dropped.
He knew we had found it.
Another message appeared.
SHE LEFT OUT THE BEST PART.
Then a photograph.
Salvatore DeMarco sat tied to a chair.
His face was bruised.
Alive.
Behind him stood Jonathan Reed.
Julian.
My biological father.
The caption read:
ASK VIVIAN HOW BADLY SHE WANTS HER FATHER BACK.
Vivian stared.
Her face went cold.
“I don’t.”
Everyone looked at her.
She continued.
“But I want him alive long enough to answer me.”
Then another message arrived.
MIDNIGHT.
BELLADONNA HOUSE.
BRING THE RED LEDGER.
BRING ISABELLA.
IF YOU CALL THE POLICE, SALVATORE DIES.
Thomas looked at Vincent.
“It’s another trap.”
Vivian looked at me.
“Then we stop walking into his traps.”
I nodded.
“What do you suggest?”
She stared at the image of her father.
May you like
“We make him walk into ours.”
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