The Woman Everyone Called His Fiancée
Chapter 07 - The Woman Everyone Called His Fiancée
Bianca insisted on speaking to Isabella alone.
Alessandro refused.
Bianca stared at him until he changed his mind.
It was the first time Isabella saw anyone accomplish that without a weapon.
They sat in a private conference room above the bank while rain began again against the windows.
Bianca removed her coat.
"You want to ask."
"About you and Alessandro?"
"Yes."
"I really don't."
Bianca laughed.
"That's a lie."
Isabella felt heat rise into her face.
"Fine."
She folded her arms.
"Are you engaged?"
"No."
"Were you?"
"On paper."
"That sounds healthy."
"It was business."
Bianca's expression turned dry.
"Our fathers believed marriage could turn two criminal organizations into one respectable corporation. Alessandro and I believed our fathers could go to hell."
Isabella blinked.
"So you never—"
"Once."
Bianca held up a finger.
"We were nineteen. There was tequila. We agreed afterward it had been a serious error in judgment."
Isabella laughed before she could stop herself.
"Do not tell him I said that."
"Why?"
"He insists it was the tequila's fault."
The humor faded.
Bianca leaned forward.
"Matteo is dangerous because Alessandro loves him."
"You think he betrayed him?"
"I think Matteo has spent his whole life standing half a step behind a man he believes was given everything."
"Alessandro doesn't look like anyone gave him much."
"That's because you have eyes."
Bianca glanced toward the closed door.
"Matteo has charm. Alessandro has gravity. Their fathers noticed the difference early."
"Matteo's father was Salvatore."
"Yes."
"And Salvatore tried to kill Alessandro."
"Probably."
"Does Matteo know?"
"Matteo knows his father died by Antonio Romano's order."
Bianca paused.
"What he believes about the reason is another matter."
Isabella opened her hand.
The brass key lay against her palm.
"Why did Salvatore want this?"
"Daniel's ledger wasn't just a list of illegal shipments."
"What else?"
"Insurance policies."
Isabella frowned.
"Life insurance?"
"Political insurance."
Bianca explained that Salvatore kept evidence on everyone he bribed—judges, port officials, police commanders, businessmen. Enough dirt to keep powerful people obedient.
"If Daniel copied that ledger, then whoever holds it can destroy careers."
"Or control them."
"Exactly."
Isabella closed her hand again.
"I don't want it."
"That may be the smartest thing anyone has said this week."
The door opened.
Alessandro stood there.
"We have to leave."
Bianca rose.
"What happened?"
"Matteo used an old Romano credential to access the Queens apartment."
Isabella's chair scraped back.
"My apartment?"
"Marco's team got there first."
"My cat?"
Alessandro looked almost offended.
"Pepper is fine."
"You know his name?"
"You mentioned him."
Bianca glanced between them.
"Oh."
Neither responded.
Back at the estate, Pepper was waiting in the library inside a carrier, furious at the world.
Isabella opened it.
The orange cat emerged, saw Alessandro, and hissed.
"Excellent instincts," Bianca said.
Alessandro ignored her.
Pepper marched across the rug, jumped onto his chair, and sat down.
Bianca smiled.
"Or not."
For the first time since the gala, Isabella felt something like normal life brush against her.
It lasted twelve minutes.
Marco brought in a box recovered from her apartment.
Inside were items Matteo's men had disturbed.
Old school papers.
A jewelry case.
Photographs.
Isabella picked up a framed picture of her parents.
The backing had been torn away.
Behind the photograph was an indentation.
Key-shaped.
She looked at Thomas.
"You said Dad didn't trust you with the key."
"He didn't."
"My mother put it behind this picture."
Thomas looked ashamed.
"I never knew."
Alessandro examined the frame.
"There are fibers."
"From what?"
"Paper."
Something had once been hidden there.
Someone had taken it.
Isabella turned toward Thomas.
"You had the photograph after my parents died."
"Yes."
"Who else had access?"
He said nothing.
"Thomas."
His face changed.
"I lost the apartment for six months."
"What?"
"After Atlantic City."
Her anger returned so quickly she felt dizzy.
"You told me the building had mold."
"I was trying to keep you from knowing how bad things were."
"Where did our things go?"
"Storage."
"Which storage?"
Thomas looked toward Alessandro.
"One Matteo arranged."
Silence.
Isabella stepped away from him.
"You knew Matteo before this."
Thomas closed his eyes.
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Seven years."
The admission seemed to age him in real time.
"I met him at a casino. I owed money. He helped me."
"He bought you."
"I thought he was protecting us."
"You always think the person paying your debt is helping."
"Isabella—"
"No."
Her voice cracked.
"You let him into our life."
Thomas stood.
"I never gave him you."
"You gave him everything around me."
That was worse because it was true.
Thomas sat back down.
Bianca watched him closely.
"Why would Matteo keep paying your debts?"
"He asked questions."
"What questions?"
"About Daniel."
"About the ledger?"
"I didn't know there was a ledger."
"What did he ask?"
Thomas rubbed his face.
"Whether Daniel had safe-deposit boxes. Old friends. Places he took Isabella when she was little."
Isabella looked at the brass key.
Then at the damaged photograph.
"Matteo had the paper."
Alessandro nodded.
"He may know what the key opens."
Marco's phone buzzed.
He read the message.
"Security found something in Matteo's old office."
They crossed the house together.
Matteo's office had already been searched once.
This time, Marco's men had removed a false panel behind a filing cabinet.
Inside was a stack of photographs.
Isabella.
At school.
At work.
Walking Pepper in a ridiculous red harness.
But beneath those were older pictures.
Her mother at St. Anne's.
Thomas entering casinos.
Daniel Santos leaving Romano Shipping sixteen years earlier.
Then one photograph stopped everyone.
It was recent.
Taken inside the Grande Hotel three weeks before the gala.
Matteo stood at a table with Victor Petrov.
And between them sat the man Isabella had overheard on the terrace.
On the back, someone had written a date and one sentence.
SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT SHE IS CARRYING.
Isabella looked down at the brass key.
The key had never been the only thing her parents left her.
May you like
Something else had been in her possession for years.
And Matteo knew exactly what it was.
