Chapter 3 - The Woman Everyone Wanted Me to Blame
My study door was open.
It should never have been open.
I stopped in the corridor.
Marco stood beside me.
Two guards waited behind us.
Nobody entered.
The room looked untouched.
That was what made it worse.
Professionals did not leave chaos.
Professionals knew exactly what they wanted.
The morning light cut across the Persian rug.
Books remained perfectly aligned.
My grandfather’s desk sat exactly as I had left it.
Only one thing was wrong.
The painting beside the fireplace had been moved.
Behind it, the steel safe stood open.
I entered carefully.
“Do not touch anything,” I said.
Marco nodded.
I approached the safe.
Cash remained.
Three watches remained.
My father’s signet ring remained.
A stack of bearer bonds remained.
Whoever entered had ignored items worth millions.
They wanted information.
I checked the document folders.
One was missing.
My stomach tightened.
“Which file?” Marco asked.
“The Verona file.”
He knew enough not to ask what that meant immediately.
The Verona file was not connected to Verona.
It was a private name for records my father had collected during the last years of his life.
Transactions.
Ownership structures.
Offshore corporations.
Political donations.
Secret debts.
Most importantly, evidence that several powerful families had been quietly buying influence inside Duca companies.
The Morelli family was one of them.
Carlo Morelli did not know I possessed those documents.
At least, he was not supposed to.
“If someone gets that file?” Marco asked.
“They learn what I know.”
“And?”
“They learn what I was preparing to do.”
“What were you preparing to do?”
“Cut three families out of Duca Holdings.”
He stared at me.
“That includes Morelli?”
“Yes.”
Downstairs, Carlo Morelli was attempting to arrange my marriage to his daughter.
The timing was no longer coincidence.
“What about the clock?” Marco asked.
I looked at the empty mantel.
“Camouflage.”
“Why steal it?”
“To create a visible crime.”
“And plant it on Maria.”
“Yes.”
“So everybody focuses on the servant who supposedly stole jewelry while someone else takes paperwork.”
“Exactly.”
Marco swore softly.
“Then Renata…”
“I don’t know.”
“She had the floor plan.”
“In her desk.”
“You think it was planted?”
“I think whoever planned this understood our household hierarchy.”
Renata was perfect secondary insurance.
If Maria failed as a scapegoat, suspicion would move upward.
But there was something bothering me.
“Why Isabella?” I asked.
Marco frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Why frighten her?”
“Maybe Renata wanted her out of the way.”
“If Renata was responsible.”
He nodded slowly.
I looked back at the safe.
A four-year-old child had become part of the plan.
That was personal.
Messy.
Unnecessary.
Unless the child had seen something.
I turned.
“Bring Isabella and Maria upstairs.”
Marco hesitated.
“To the study?”
“Yes.”
A few minutes later, Maria entered carrying her daughter.
She looked terrified.
I motioned toward the sofa.
“You’re not in trouble.”
Maria sat cautiously.
Pino came in behind them, despite nobody calling him.
Isabella immediately reached toward him.
The Doberman lay beside her feet.
I crouched in front of the child.
“Isabella, I need to ask you something important.”
Maria looked worried.
“Sir, she’s exhausted.”
“I know. I’ll be careful.”
I turned back to Isabella.
“Before Miss Renata told you to hide, did you see anybody upstairs?”
She frowned.
“Upstairs where?”
“In this hallway.”
She looked around the study.
Then her eyes settled on the open safe.
Her expression changed.
“Yes.”
Maria stiffened.
“Who?”
“A man.”
“What did he look like?”
She hugged the rabbit.
“Tall.”
“That describes half the men in this house.”
She thought harder.
“He had shiny shoes.”
I almost smiled.
“Anything else?”
“Blue tie.”
Marco and I exchanged a glance.
Alessio Morelli had worn a blue tie when he arrived at meetings before.
“What was he doing?”
“He was mad.”
“At whom?”
“Miss Renata.”
I leaned closer.
“You saw him with Renata?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
“By the stairs.”
“What were they saying?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
She looked at her mother.
Maria whispered, “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
Isabella looked back at me.
“He said, ‘You said nobody would be here.’”
My pulse slowed.
People thought anger made me dangerous.
It did not.
Clarity did.
And in that moment, everything became clear.
“What did Renata say?”
“She said, ‘The little girl wasn’t supposed to come.’”
Maria gasped.
Isabella continued.
“Then the man saw me.”
“What happened?”
“He smiled.”
That bothered me more than if she had said he shouted.
“What did he say?”
“He gave me candy.”
“Did you eat it?”
She shook her head.
“Mommy says don’t take candy from people.”
Good mother.
“What kind?”
“Red.”
“Where is it?”
Isabella pointed to her pink dress pocket.
Maria reached inside.
She pulled out a wrapped candy.
Marco took an evidence bag.
I looked at the wrapper.
A hotel logo.
Palazzo Morelli.
Carlo Morelli’s flagship hotel in Milan.
That was enough to establish contact.
Not enough to prove conspiracy.
But we were getting closer.
“Did the man tell you anything else?”
Isabella nodded.
“He said I should go find my mommy.”
“And then?”
“I went downstairs.”
“Did you see him again?”
“No.”
“What about Renata?”
“She found me by the laundry room.”
Maria closed her eyes.
The timeline formed rapidly.
Alessio entered before dawn.
Camera disabled using Renata’s token.
My credentials cloned.
Study breached.
Verona file removed.
Clock stolen.
Clock planted in Maria’s locker.
Isabella unexpectedly present.
She saw Alessio arguing with Renata.
Renata later frightened her into hiding outside.
But why?
To protect Alessio?
To protect herself?
Or to stop Isabella from repeating what she had seen?
I stood.
“Marco, bring Renata.”
He left.
Maria looked at me.
“Mr. Duca…”
“Yes?”
“Are you going to fire me?”
The question surprised me.
“Why would I fire you?”
“Because my daughter was somewhere she should not have been.”
I looked at Isabella.
She was stroking Pino’s paw.
“No.”
Maria’s eyes filled.
“No?”
“No.”
She covered her mouth.
I continued.
“If anything, your daughter just saved me from making a serious mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“Believing the first piece of evidence placed in front of me.”
She looked down.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
Renata entered with Marco.
Her face was composed.
I pointed toward a chair.
“Sit.”
She remained standing.
“I prefer to stand.”
“That was not a request.”
She sat.
I showed her the candy wrapper.
Her eyes flickered.
“Isabella saw you with Alessio Morelli.”
Renata looked at the child.
Pino immediately raised his head.
Renata looked away.
“I spoke to Mr. Morelli’s assistant this morning.”
“You told him nobody would be here.”
“I don’t remember saying that.”
“You told him Isabella wasn’t supposed to come.”
“I may have said children aren’t usually here.”
“He had access to my study.”
“I never gave him access.”
“Your security token disabled the camera.”
“It was stolen.”
“My access credentials opened the door.”
“I cannot explain that.”
“The Verona file is missing.”
That got her.
Her pupils widened.
She knew the name.
“You know what that is,” I said.
“No.”
“You reacted.”
“I’m shocked that anything is missing.”
I leaned forward.
“Renata, this is your last chance to tell me what happened.”
She looked at Maria.
Then Isabella.
Then me.
For the first time, she seemed tired.
Not frightened.
Tired.
“I didn’t steal the clock.”
“I didn’t ask whether you stole the clock.”
“I didn’t frame Maria.”
“Then who did?”
She said nothing.
“Alessio?”
Silence.
“Carlo?”
Her jaw tightened.
I changed strategy.
“What are they holding over you?”
Her eyes snapped to mine.
There.
I had found the crack.
“You’ve worked here twelve years,” I said. “You know how I operate. If you wanted money, you could have stolen ten smaller things nobody would notice. If you wanted revenge, framing Maria makes no sense. So somebody is forcing you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You terrified a four-year-old.”
Her face changed.
Shame.
Brief but real.
“That was wrong,” she whispered.
Maria stood.
“You told my daughter I was going to jail.”
Renata looked at her.
“I needed her gone.”
“Why?”
“Because she saw him.”
The room went still.
Finally.
Truth.
I stepped closer.
“Alessio.”
Renata nodded once.
“Why was he here?”
She looked toward the door.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No.”
“Who are you protecting?”
Her eyes filled.
“My son.”
That answer changed the room.
Renata had a son?
I knew she was widowed.
I had assumed she had no children.
“He lives in Naples,” she said. “He’s twenty-three.”
“What happened?”
“Debt.”
“What kind?”
She hesitated.
“Gambling.”
Marco cursed under his breath.
Renata continued.
“He borrowed money from people connected to Morelli businesses. He thought he could repay it. Then interest doubled. Then tripled.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand euros.”
Maria stared.
Renata laughed bitterly.
“He never borrowed anywhere near that amount. It was designed to become impossible.”
“And Carlo offered to clear it.”
“Yes.”
“In exchange for what?”
“At first, information.”
“What information?”
“Your schedule. Visitors. Which rooms were used. Which staff had access.”
“How long?”
“Six months.”
My anger went cold.
“And today?”
“They told me Alessio needed seven minutes in your study.”
“Why?”
“They didn’t tell me.”
“You disabled the camera.”
“Yes.”
“You gave him my access credentials.”
“No.”
I studied her.
“I swear.”
“Then how did he get them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who planted the clock?”
Renata’s voice dropped.
“Alessio.”
Maria inhaled sharply.
“I saw him carrying something after he left your study.”
“And you let him put it in Maria’s locker.”
Renata began crying.
“I didn’t know until later.”
“But you found it.”
“Yes.”
“Conveniently.”
“He told me where it was.”
“And told you to accuse Maria.”
“Yes.”
Maria whispered, “Why me?”
Renata looked at her.
“Because you were new.”
The cruelty of that answer hung in the room.
Renata continued.
“No family connections. No influence. Nobody important would defend you.”
I looked at Maria.
Her face tightened.
Then I looked at Isabella.
The little girl had heard enough adult cruelty for one day.
“Marco, take Isabella to the terrace with Pino.”
“I want Mommy,” Isabella said.
Maria knelt.
“I’m right here.”
I softened my voice.
“Pino needs somebody to watch him.”
Isabella looked at the dog.
“Me?”
“He’s terrible at following rules.”
For the first time, she smiled.
A tiny smile.
Marco led her out with Pino.
Once the door closed, I turned back to Renata.
“Tell me everything.”
She wiped her face.
“Alessio said today would solve everything. He said if I cooperated, my son’s debt disappeared.”
“And if you refused?”
“He sent me a photograph this morning.”
She unlocked her phone.
The image showed a young man walking outside an apartment building.
A red circle had been drawn around his head.
I stared at it.
Threat.
Clear enough.
Renata whispered, “They knew where he lived.”
Maria’s anger softened, but only slightly.
“You still used me.”
“I know.”
“You frightened my daughter.”
“I know.”
“You were going to let me lose everything.”
Renata started sobbing.
“I know.”
I remained standing.
Compassion and accountability were not opposites.
Renata had been coerced.
But Maria had still been sacrificed.
The Morellis had counted on everybody choosing self-preservation.
“Where is Alessio now?” I asked.
“He left before eight.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“No.”
“Did he mention the Verona file?”
Renata’s expression shifted.
“Not by name.”
“What did he say?”
“That Carlo would finally have enough to make you sign.”
I went still.
“Sign what?”
“The marriage agreement.”
My phone rang.
Vittorio.
I answered.
“What?”
His voice was tense.
“Lorenzo, you need to come downstairs.”
“Why?”
“Carlo just changed the terms.”
“What terms?”
“The merger agreement.”
I stared at Renata.
Vittorio continued.
“He says unless you sign today, the Morelli banks are calling three Duca credit facilities by morning.”
I almost laughed.
Now the theft made sense.
The Verona file contained proof that those credit facilities had been manipulated through shell companies.
Carlo had stolen the evidence.
Now he believed I was defenseless.
He expected me to choose between marrying Bianca and triggering a liquidity crisis across our companies.
He had made one mistake.
He thought the file was my only copy.
I looked toward my grandfather’s desk.
There was another copy.
Not here.
Not digital.
And Carlo had no idea where it was.
“I’m coming down,” I said.
I ended the call.
Renata stood.
“What are you going to do?”
I put on my jacket.
“Exactly what Carlo expects.”
Her face fell.
“You’re going to sign?”
I looked toward the terrace, where Isabella’s laughter could faintly be heard as Pino followed her.
“No.”
I smiled without warmth.
“I’m going to let him think I will.”
And downstairs, four men were waiting for me with a contract they believed I had no choice but to accept.
May you like
They did not know a four-year-old child had already destroyed their entire plan.
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