Chapter 5
My mother laughed when I showed her the inscription.
Weakly.
But genuinely.
“Your father always loved drama.”
I sat beside her bed.
Lily was asleep against Isabella’s side, one small hand still holding the cardigan sleeve as though letting go might make her disappear again.
“Where is the other half?”
My mother looked toward the sleeping child.
“Safe.”
“Mom.”
Her eyes returned to me.
“You sound like Antonio.”
“That is not a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant as one.”
For the first time that day, something almost normal existed between us.
It lasted five seconds.
Then I asked:
“Who is the traitor?”
Her face changed.
Not fear.
Sadness.
“That depends which betrayal you mean.”
I sat back.
She explained the seal had two halves because my father trusted no single branch after one attempted internal coup years before I took command.
One half stayed with Isabella.
The second went to a person outside direct Moretti blood.
A neutral holder.
Someone who could compare instructions and expose forged orders.
“Who?”
“Daniel Hudson.”
I frowned.
Claire’s surname.
My mother nodded.
“Her father.”
Claire had never mentioned him.
“What happened to Daniel?”
“Dead.”
“How?”
Isabella looked toward the door.
“He found out Helena was moving men under your father’s name after Antonio died.”
My jaw tightened.
“When?”
“Two years before I disappeared.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
I remembered one argument.
Isabella came into my office furious, accusing Helena of using old loyalty channels to build a private faction.
I told my mother she was grieving and suspicious.
I actually said those words.
Grieving.
Suspicious.
Words Helena had used first.
My stomach turned.
“You did tell me.”
Isabella watched my face.
“Yes.”
I lowered my eyes.
She touched my hand.
I almost pulled away.
Not from her.
From shame.
“I didn’t believe you.”
“No.”
“I trusted Helena.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
No comfort.
I deserved that.
Isabella continued.
Daniel Hudson had the second seal half.
When he died, Helena searched for it.
Never found it.
“Claire?”
My mother nodded.
“Daniel hid it with his daughter.”
I stood.
Claire had worked inside the mansion for three years.
Helena had kept her close too.
Not coincidence.
Not charity.
Observation.
My mother looked at me.
“Helena never knew whether Claire had it.”
“And you?”
“I did.”
“How?”
“Daniel told me where he hid it.”
I stared.
“Where?”
Isabella smiled faintly.
“In something Helena would never bother looking at.”
Of course.
I looked toward the hallway.
Claire’s maid shoes.
Her apron.
Her service belongings.
People like Helena ignored the things carried by people they considered beneath them.
May you like
My mother whispered:
“That is why the second half survived.”
