Chapter 10
Victor Morelli was alive too.
At that point, death in my family had become less a fact than an administrative preference.
Matteo explained.
Victor was the one person Vivienne trusted to inspect hidden family assets without asking questions. Children, apparently, had become assets.
He checked on Nico every three months.
Never entered.
Never touched him.
Just verified he remained where Vivienne expected.
“Where is Victor now?”
Matteo shook his head.
“Last visit was six months ago.”
Margaret looked surprised.
“No.”
We turned.
“He came two weeks ago.”
Silence.
“Did he say why?”
“He asked whether anyone contacted us.”
My stomach tightened.
Vivienne had anticipated movement.
Maybe Elena’s return.
Maybe Matteo becoming unreliable.
Maybe Tristan recording too much.
Victor checked the boy two weeks before this wedding.
I looked at Tristan.
“When did Elena contact you?”
“Three weeks ago.”
There.
A leak.
Elena had reached out to Tristan because she wanted to bring Isla near me without causing a public scene. Tristan promised to help.
Someone told Vivienne.
I looked at him.
“Who knew?”
“Only me.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“Someone knew.”
His face tightened.
Then he understood.
“My wife.”
I stared.
Tristan’s wife, Camille, was at the wedding.
She had left before the ballroom cleared.
Of course.
Vivienne did not merely control sons.
She recruited around them.
“What did Camille know?”
Tristan shook his head slowly.
“Everything I told her.”
I almost pitied him.
Almost.
We returned to the estate.
Camille was gone.
So was Vivienne.
My guards had kept the wrong person under heavier watch.
Vivienne had never planned to remain after the truth surfaced.
She had prepared an exit.
On her dressing table she left one envelope.
My name.
Inside was a single card.
YOU FOUND ONE CHILD. DON’T MAKE ME MOVE THE OTHER.
My blood went cold.
I ran upstairs.
Isla and Nico were still with Elena.
Safe.
I read the card again.
One child.
Other.
Not the twins.
Someone else.
I looked at Tristan.
His face went white.
“What?”
He sat down.
“My daughter.”
I stared at him.
He and Camille had a five-year-old daughter, Rose, who had supposedly been sent to boarding school abroad six months earlier.
Tristan had not seen her since.
He had accepted photographs and video calls.
Now he understood.
May you like
Vivienne’s control over children had never begun with mine.
She had already taken his.
