Chapter 10 - The Price of Seventeen PercentLuca reached my mother’s house before the police.
I hated him for that.
I loved him for it too.
Finn drove.
I sat beside Luca in the back seat, calling my mother every thirty seconds.
She stopped answering after the fourth call.
By the fifth, I could no longer feel my hands.
“Sofia is safe,” Luca said.
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
I looked at him sharply.
He did not give me false reassurance.
He never did anymore.
“But Richard needs something,” he continued. “That makes hurting anyone against his interest.”
“You're assuming he's rational.”
“I am assuming he has spent forty years protecting himself. Men like that do not suddenly become impulsive when they are this close to what they want.”
“What does he want?”
“The trust.”
“Then give it to him.”
Luca looked at me.
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“I don't care about your company.”
“I know.”
“I don't care about seventeen percent or Belladonna or Carlo’s legacy.”
“I know.”
“If Sofia—”
“Isabella.”
His hand closed around mine.
“If the choice is Sofia or Moretti Capital, there is no choice.”
I stared at him.
Once, the company had been the central architecture of his life.
Not because he loved money.
Because Moretti Capital was inheritance.
Duty.
Fear.
His father’s approval and disappointment preserved in glass and steel.
Now he said it without hesitation.
There was no choice.
I leaned against him.
Only for a second.
Then the car turned onto my mother’s road.
Police vehicles were approaching from the opposite direction.
Finn spoke into his radio.
“Perimeter first.”
“No,” Luca said.
Finn looked at him through the mirror.
“We wait.”
“What?”
“We do not rush a house with Sofia inside.”
Every muscle in Luca’s body was rigid.
But he was thinking.
Not reacting.
Learning had not made him softer.
It had made him safer.
We stopped two houses away.
Finn’s team moved.
Police arrived.
Then my phone rang.
My mother.
I answered immediately.
“Mom?”
“I'm fine.”
I nearly collapsed.
“Sofia?”
“Eating crackers.”
I covered my mouth.
Luca closed his eyes.
“Where is Richard?”
“Still here.”
“What does he want?”
“He wants to speak to you.”
“No.”
“Isabella.”
“No.”
“He is not armed.”
“How do you know?”
“He allowed me to check.”
That sounded so absurdly like my mother that I almost screamed.
“You searched Richard Sinclair?”
“I raised two children. Men are not particularly mysterious.”
Despite everything, Luca made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh.
“Put him on.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“I said he wants to speak to you. I did not say I was giving him my phone.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then what?”
“Come inside.”
Luca shook his head immediately.
“Absolutely not.”
My mother heard him.
“Hello, Luca.”
“Margaret.”
“You may come too.”
“No.”
“Then I suppose we will continue sitting here.”
“Police are outside.”
“I know.”
“Richard will be detained.”
“Possibly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he has not committed a crime by ringing my doorbell.”
“He attempted—”
“Luca.”
My mother’s voice hardened.
“I know exactly who Richard Sinclair is.”
Silence.
“I knew him before you did.”
Luca looked at me.
I stared at the phone.
“What?”
My mother sighed.
“Come inside.”
The call ended.
Five minutes later, after police confirmed there was no immediate threat, Luca and I entered.
I found Sofia on the kitchen floor drawing purple circles.
She looked up.
“Mommy!”
I dropped beside her.
She threw herself into my arms.
I held her too tightly.
“Mommy squish.”
“Sorry.”
I did not let go.
Luca knelt beside us.
Sofia reached for him.
“Daddy.”
His face broke.
He kissed her hair.
Then I looked up.
Richard Sinclair sat at my mother’s kitchen table.
Seventy-two.
Perfect suit.
Silver hair.
Calm.
My mother sat opposite him drinking tea.
I stood.
Every part of me wanted to attack him.
Instead, I remembered our rules.
Ask.
Answer.
Stay.
“What do you want?”
Richard looked at me.
“The trust.”
“No.”
Luca moved beside me.
Richard’s eyes shifted toward him.
“You don't understand what Carlo left you.”
“Then explain.”
Richard almost smiled.
“Still arrogant.”
“Still here.”
My mother sighed.
“Men.”
Neither responded.
Richard folded his hands.
“Belladonna was never designed to steal Moretti Capital.”
Luca’s expression remained cold.
“Then why activate it?”
“To force the truth into daylight.”
I laughed.
“You expect us to believe that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“But it is true.”
He looked at my mother.
“Margaret knows.”
I turned.
“Mom?”
She looked tired.
“I know part of it.”
“What part?”
“Your father never trusted Carlo completely.”
“That seems reasonable.”
“He trusted Richard even less.”
Richard smiled faintly.
“Also reasonable.”
Luca stepped forward.
“You diverted money.”
“Yes.”
The easy admission stunned everyone.
“You manipulated acquisitions.”
“Yes.”
“You framed Thomas Bennett.”
“No.”
Silence.
I stared at him.
“The documents—”
“Show that someone inside Moretti created false allegations.”
“You were responsible.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Richard looked at Luca.
“Your father.”
Luca went still.
“No.”
“Carlo told you he discovered the scheme?”
“The records—”
“Were written by Carlo.”
That landed hard.
Richard continued.
“Your father was brilliant at preserving his preferred version of history.”
My mother looked down.
I saw it.
Recognition.
“Mom.”
She did not answer.
“Did Dad believe Carlo framed him?”
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did he believe?”
She looked at Richard.
“That Carlo authorized pressure against Harbor Education Trust.”
“Pressure?”
“Investigators. Audits. Press leaks. Donor intimidation.”
My chest tightened.
“But not the false evidence?”
“He never knew who created it.”
Richard leaned back.
“Because Adrian created it.”
Evan’s grandfather.
“No.”
“Adrian believed the acquisition was essential. He manufactured evidence without Carlo’s direct permission.”
“Then why does Carlo’s record point toward you?”
“Because by the time he created that archive, Adrian had disappeared and I was the only enemy left.”
Luca stared.
“You expect me to accept your word.”
“No.”
Richard reached into his jacket.
Finn moved instantly.
Richard stopped.
“Documents.”
“Slowly.”
He removed a flash drive.
Placed it on the table.
“Adrian gave Vanessa copies.”
My skin went cold.
“Vanessa?”
“She found him because she was trying to prove I had manipulated her.”
“What?”
For the first time, Richard’s composure cracked.
“My daughter spent most of her life believing loyalty meant earning affection.”
Luca’s face hardened.
“You taught her that.”
“Yes.”
The answer came quietly.
No defense.
No excuse.
“I did.”
That surprised me more than denial would have.
Richard looked at me.
“Vanessa blamed you because blaming you was easier than accepting Luca never belonged to her.”
I said nothing.
“She did terrible things.”
“Yes.”
“I am not asking you to forgive them.”
“Good.”
“She eventually understood something.”
“What?”
“That she had become me.”
The room went silent.
Richard looked older suddenly.
“After Luca removed her from the foundation, she left New York. She spent a year angry. Another year trying to prove she had been justified.”
“That sounds like Vanessa.”
“Then she found evidence connecting Belladonna to me.”
Luca crossed his arms.
“And?”
“She thought exposing me would restore her reputation.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
Richard smiled without humor.
“It destroyed what remained of her illusions.”
“Where is she?” I asked.
“I don't know.”
“She was in Switzerland yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To protect Adrian.”
“From whom?”
“Me.”
My stomach tightened.
“You were going to hurt him?”
“No.”
“Then why would he need protection?”
“Because Adrian believes I killed Carlo.”
Luca froze.
“What?”
Richard looked directly at him.
“Your father did not die naturally.”
The kitchen seemed to shrink.
Luca’s face lost color.
Carlo had died after a sudden cardiac event.
At least that was what everyone had believed.
Richard continued.
“Adrian became convinced someone altered Carlo’s medication.”
“Who?”
“He suspected me.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Can you prove that?”
“No.”
Luca laughed once.
Cold.
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
Richard did not argue.
“That is why I activated Belladonna.”
“You expect me to believe you triggered a corporate takeover to investigate an eleven-year-old death?”
“No. I activated Belladonna because Carlo built the trust to destroy me if I ever did.”
“That makes even less sense.”
“Only if you believe Belladonna gives me control.”
Luca frowned.
“It does.”
“No.”
Richard looked toward me.
“It gives Isabella control.”
I stared.
“What?”
“The moment Belladonna activates, the seventeen-percent voting trust becomes active.”
“I know.”
“What you do not know is that Belladonna’s shares automatically transfer their voting proxy to the trust for thirty days.”
Luca went completely still.
“How much?”
“Twenty-one percent.”
My mouth went dry.
Seventeen plus twenty-one.
Thirty-eight percent.
Luca whispered, “Enough to control the board.”
Richard nodded.
“For thirty days.”
I stared at him.
“You deliberately gave me control of Moretti Capital?”
“Temporarily.”
“Why?”
“Because neither Luca nor I can uncover the truth while controlling the company.”
“That sentence makes no sense.”
“It does if the person responsible for Carlo’s death is still inside Moretti Capital.”
Nobody moved.
Richard continued.
“Carlo suspected me. Adrian suspected me. I suspected Adrian. For eleven years, everyone has protected themselves.”
“And now?”
“Now the company belongs, temporarily, to someone none of us prepared for.”
Me.
I almost laughed.
“I run an arts education nonprofit.”
“Yes.”
“I don't know how to run Moretti Capital.”
“Exactly.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It should be.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever has been hiding inside that company for eleven years knows how Luca thinks.”
Richard looked at my husband.
“They know how I think.”
Then at me.
“They do not know how you think.”
A silence settled over the kitchen.
I looked at Luca.
He looked furious.
Not because Richard had insulted him.
Because the logic worked.
I hated that too.
“What happens after thirty days?” I asked.
“If you do nothing, Belladonna’s proxy expires and the trust returns to dormancy.”
“And if I find evidence?”
“You can call a shareholder vote.”
“For what?”
“To remove anyone implicated.”
I stared.
“Anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Including Luca?”
Richard’s eyes shifted toward him.
“Yes.”
Luca did not flinch.
Then my mother stood.
“I think that's enough.”
Richard looked at her.
“Margaret.”
“No.”
She pointed toward the door.
“You brought danger to my granddaughter’s home.”
“I came alone.”
“You came with forty years of consequences.”
He lowered his eyes.
For the first time, Richard Sinclair looked ashamed.
He stood.
At the doorway, he looked at me.
“Thirty days, Isabella.”
“I heard you.”
“Trust nobody automatically.”
I almost laughed.
“You really chose the wrong family for that advice.”
His expression softened.
“Perhaps.”
He left.
Police followed him outside.
I turned to Luca.
Thirty-eight percent.
Thirty days.
A company worth billions.
And somewhere inside it, according to Richard, someone had hidden the truth about Carlo’s death for eleven years.
Luca walked toward me.
“If you don't want this, we walk away.”
“From the company?”
“Yes.”
“You would do that?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
I looked at Sofia.
Then at my mother.
Then at the flash drive on the table.
All my life, powerful men had made decisions in rooms where women were expected to live with the consequences.
Carlo.
Richard.
Even Luca, once.
Now, through some absurd legal mechanism created by dead men who believed themselves clever, control had landed in my hands.
Maybe they expected me to protect Moretti Capital.
Maybe they expected me to protect Luca.
Maybe they expected me to choose sides.
I picked up the flash drive.
“No.”
Luca watched me.
“We don't walk away.”
His expression sharpened.
“What do you want to do?”
I looked at him.
“The thing none of you did eleven years ago.”
“What?”
“Stop protecting the Moretti name.”
May you like
I closed my hand around the drive.
“And find out what actually happened.”
