Chapter 6 - The Uncle Who Buried the Truth
Massimo fired before anyone could stop him.
Daniel Russo fell behind a marble column.
Guests screamed and scattered.
Lorenzo's security team surrounded Mateo and Lydia while Antonio tackled Massimo against a table.
For one insane moment, Lorenzo thought his uncle had shot the man to protect them.
Then Russo spoke.
Blood stained his shirt, but the bullet had struck his shoulder.
"You idiot," he gasped at Massimo.
Massimo struggled against Antonio.
"Finish him!"
Lorenzo froze.
Not kill them.
Kill Russo.
Because Russo could talk.
"Take both of them," Lorenzo ordered.
The gala ended in confusion.
Publicly, the story became an attempted attack by an unidentified assailant followed by a defensive response.
Privately, everything changed.
Russo was taken to a secure hospital under police supervision after Lorenzo anonymously delivered evidence connecting him to the assassination attempt.
Massimo was held by investigators once the financial notebook and Carbone's testimony were turned over.
Lorenzo had spent years operating in shadows.
But this was different.
Mateo had nearly died twice.
Lydia had become a target.
His father's death was suddenly questionable.
The secrets needed daylight.
Russo started talking at 4:12 the next morning.
Massimo had stolen from the organization for more than twenty-five years.
Vittorio DeLuca discovered it.
Massimo framed him.
When Lorenzo's father Marcello learned the truth, he confronted his brother.
Weeks later, Marcello died in what everyone believed was a heart attack.
Russo could not prove Massimo caused it.
But he knew Massimo had paid a doctor afterward.
Years later, Lorenzo began auditing old accounts.
Massimo panicked.
He arranged an ambush meant to kill Lorenzo.
Mateo took his place in the car unexpectedly.
Massimo had not intended to paralyze Mateo.
But once it happened, he used the tragedy.
Lorenzo became distracted.
Security tightened.
Investigations stopped.
For two years, Massimo continued moving money.
Then Lydia appeared.
Elena Lydia DeLuca.
The daughter of the man Massimo had framed.
The woman who had seen Russo near the ambush.
And the one witness Mateo still remembered.
Massimo decided both needed to disappear.
By evening, Lorenzo had heard enough.
He sat beside Mateo's bed.
His twin watched him.
"I'm sorry."
Mateo blinked.
Lorenzo stared at his hands.
"The bullets were for me."
Mateo's expression tightened.
"I knew that."
Lorenzo looked up.
Mateo forced the words.
"Always... knew."
Lorenzo's throat closed.
"I should've protected you."
Mateo became visibly irritated.
His voice came slowly.
"Stop."
Lorenzo stared.
Mateo breathed.
"Not... your... bullet."
Lorenzo understood.
Not your bullet.
Not your betrayal.
Not your choice.
For two years, Lorenzo had carried responsibility for a crime committed by another man.
Mateo had known.
And perhaps had been waiting for his brother to understand.
Lydia stood quietly in the doorway.
Lorenzo glanced at her.
"How long have you been there?"
"Long enough."
"You're terrible at privacy."
"You installed cameras in people's bedrooms."
"Fair."
Mateo smiled.
That evening, Lydia sat with Lorenzo in the garden room.
Snow still covered the grounds outside.
She held tea.
He held whiskey.
"You don't have to keep pretending," she said.
"About?"
"The engagement."
He looked at her.
"The threat is mostly over."
"Mostly."
"Massimo's in custody. Russo's cooperating. Carbone's talking."
"Mostly."
She sighed.
"People are congratulating me in grocery stores."
"You're not going grocery shopping."
"Because you've assigned bodyguards."
"You're welcome."
"I'm starting to think you enjoy annoying me."
"Possibly."
Silence came.
Different now.
Easier.
Lydia looked outside.
"I'll leave when Mateo is settled."
The idea landed harder than Lorenzo expected.
"Why?"
"My reason for coming here is finished."
"Your reason was seeing Mateo."
"And I saw him."
"You saved him."
"Twice, apparently."
"You could stay."
She looked at him.
"As what?"
The question held more weight than he wanted to acknowledge.
"Mateo likes you."
"That's not an answer."
"The staff likes you."
"Still not an answer."
Lorenzo looked into his glass.
He had negotiated deals worth hundreds of millions.
Threatened men without raising his voice.
Walked into rooms knowing everyone inside feared him.
Yet Lydia Coppola asking a simple question had him searching for words.
"As yourself."
She smiled sadly.
"That's dangerous around you."
"I know."
"Lorenzo."
He looked up.
"We can't pretend forever."
Something inside him decided.
"Then don't."
She frowned.
He put down the whiskey.
"I lied at the gala."
"Obviously."
"About the engagement."
"Yes."
"But somewhere between watching you throw yourself in front of my brother and watching you insult my coffee, the lie became inconvenient."
Her expression changed.
"Inconvenient?"
"I don't like feelings I can't control."
"That may be the least romantic sentence ever spoken."
"I'm trying."
"Are you?"
"Poorly."
She laughed.
And because Lydia never behaved like anyone else, she reached across the table and took his hand.
"You don't have to control everything."
"I've been told."
"By me."
"Repeatedly."
She looked at their hands.
"I care about you too."
Lorenzo forgot to breathe.
"But," she added.
He frowned.
"There's always a but."
"You publicly declared me your fiancée without asking."
"Effective tactic."
"Still unacceptable."
"What do you want?"
She pulled her hand away.
"If Lorenzo Moretti ever actually proposes to me, he will do it properly."
His eyebrow rose.
"Properly."
"Yes."
"What does that involve?"
"You figuring it out."
Then she stood.
At the door she turned.
"And no reporters."
"That seems unreasonable."
She smiled.
"Goodnight, Lorenzo."
Three weeks passed.
Massimo was formally charged with conspiracy, attempted murder, financial crimes, and multiple counts tied to decades of corruption.
Russo accepted a cooperation agreement.
Carbone entered protective custody.
Lydia's father was publicly cleared of the accusations that had destroyed his reputation.
Lorenzo arranged for the legal record to reflect the truth.
When he showed Lydia the document, she cried.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
She held the paper against her chest.
"My father waited his whole life for this."
Lorenzo stood beside her.
"I'm sorry he didn't get to see it."
She looked up.
"He would have liked Mateo."
"He did meet him."
"Then he would've liked him twice."
"What about me?"
She pretended to consider.
"He would've been suspicious."
"Smart man."
"But eventually?"
"Eventually what?"
"He would've liked you too."
For the first time in years, Lorenzo allowed himself to imagine a future not built entirely around threat prevention.
Mateo began an experimental rehabilitation program.
He regained small voluntary movement in two fingers of his left hand.
The day it happened, Lydia cried harder than he did.
Lorenzo pretended not to.
Then, two months after the attack, Mateo called Lorenzo into his room.
Lydia was there.
So was a small velvet box.
Lorenzo stared.
Mateo smiled.
"Time."
Lydia covered her mouth.
"Lorenzo, what did you do?"
He picked up the box.
"Apparently my brother is tired of waiting."
"You planned this with Mateo?"
Mateo blinked.
Yes.
Lorenzo moved in front of Lydia.
For once, there were no cameras.
No reporters.
No armed guests.
Just Mateo, his brother, and the woman who had walked into danger because a helpless man could not walk out.
Lorenzo opened the box.
Lydia stared.
His voice was quieter than she had ever heard it.
"The first time I called you my fiancée, I did it to protect you."
She smiled through tears.
"The second time?"
He took her hand.
"If you'll let me, I'll do it because I want every tomorrow I have to include you."
Mateo looked smug.
Lydia laughed.
Then she cried.
Then she said, "Ask me."
Lorenzo almost smiled.
"Lydia Elena Coppola DeLuca, will you marry me?"
She looked at Mateo.
Then Lorenzo.
"Yes."
Mateo made the strongest sound of celebration his damaged voice could manage.
Lorenzo slipped the ring onto her finger.
He believed the worst was finally behind them.
He was almost right.
Because the following morning, Antonio entered carrying one last envelope recovered from Massimo's private safe.
On the front were three handwritten words.
FOR LORENZO ONLY.
Inside was a letter from his father.
May you like
And the truth waiting in those pages would decide whether Lorenzo could finally leave the Moretti family's violent past behind—or become trapped inside it forever.
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