Chapter 8
We moved Leo before sunset.
Not to another Bellucci property.
To a safe house owned by Alessia under her late husband’s name.
No one knew about it.
Not Dante.
Not my men.
Not even Tony, who had served my father.
Trust had become a luxury I could no longer afford.
Leo slept in the back seat with his bear.
Alessia sat beside him.
I drove.
A mafia boss driving his own car through rain with his son hidden under a blanket.
Life enjoys humiliating pride.
At the safe house, Leo explored every room.
“No garage,” he announced.
“No garage,” Alessia confirmed.
He nodded with satisfaction.
I knelt.
“This is our quiet house for a while.”
“Helena come?”
“No.”
“Bad cousin come?”
I froze.
“What bad cousin?”
Leo looked at his bear.
“The one with shiny shoes. He tells Helena I don’t count.”
Dante.
He had been near my son.
Alone.
My vision narrowed.
“When did he say that?”
Leo shrugged.
“When Papa goes airplanes.”
Alessia turned away, crying silently.
I held Leo’s face gently.
“You count. Always.”
He nodded like he wanted to believe me.
That night, Luca arrived with news.
Sofia had amended the trust six weeks before she died.
Leo inherited regardless of biological paternity.
The amendment required my signature.
I did not remember signing it.
Luca showed me the copy.
My signature was real.
Then I remembered.
Sofia had handed me documents after dinner one night.
“Just estate cleanup,” she said.
I signed because I trusted her.
Because she was my wife.
Because I never imagined trust would become evidence after death.
“She protected him,” Alessia whispered.
“Yes.”
Luca’s face remained grim.
“There’s more. If Leo dies before adulthood, control of the trust passes to the next Bellucci male heir.”
“Dante.”
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
There it was.
Motive.
For Sofia.
For Leo.
For the cruelty.
For every move made in the dark.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Dante’s voice slid through the line.
“Running with another man’s child, cousin?”
I looked at sleeping Leo.
My voice stayed calm.
“Keep talking.”
He laughed.
“You always loved strays.”
Then he whispered, “Ask Alessia what happened to Matteo Russo.”
The line died.
I turned.
May you like
Alessia was pale again.
And I realized my sister had one more secret left.
