Chapter 14 - THE WOMAN ABOVE THE FAMILY
Adriano’s mother was eighty-one.
Beatrice Bellacorte lived in a private wing on the west side of the estate.
She had appeared rarely during the gala because of declining mobility.
Sophia visited her every morning.
Adriano kissed her cheek every Sunday.
Nobody had named her.
Not Elena.
Not Lorenzo.
Not Gabriel.
Not Salvatore.
Because Bellacorte men spent their lives searching for men.
Beatrice sat beside a fireplace when Adriano entered.
No bodyguards.
No witnesses.
Only mother and son.
She looked at him.
“You found Salvatore.”
“Yes.”
“He always was terrible at lying to you.”
Adriano closed the door.
“Roman found the Custodian.”
Beatrice picked up her tea.
“Did he?”
“My mother.”
She sipped.
No surprise.
Adriano felt something colder than anger.
“You.”
Beatrice looked toward the fire.
“You should sit.”
“No.”
“You always stand when you’re afraid.”
Adriano stared.
Mothers knew things enemies never could.
“Are you the Custodian?”
Beatrice placed down the cup.
“I was.”
Silence.
“For how long?”
“Twenty-three years.”
Adriano’s breathing changed.
Before Lorenzo.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“Lorenzo said he held it thirteen years.”
“He did.”
“Then?”
“I gave him the visible version.”
Adriano understood.
Lorenzo had been a shield.
A false center.
A man allowed to believe he controlled the network while someone older maintained the actual structure.
“You created the second layer.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father was destroying the family.”
“He was your husband.”
“Yes.”
“Did you order Nico imprisoned?”
“No.”
“Did you help him escape?”
“Yes.”
Adriano stopped.
“Margaret.”
“Worked for me.”
Every ghost moved.
“Did you kill Nico?”
Beatrice’s face finally showed pain.
“No.”
“Lorenzo?”
“Yes.”
“Did you punish him?”
“No.”
Adriano laughed.
“Why?”
“Because killing Lorenzo would have started a war inside Bellacorte.”
“So Nico became acceptable loss.”
Beatrice looked at him.
“No loss is acceptable.”
“Yet you accepted it.”
The old woman closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Adriano’s disgust deepened.
“Elena.”
Beatrice looked at him.
“I did not order the ambush.”
“Who did?”
“My successor.”
Adriano froze.
“You are not current.”
“No.”
“When did you step down?”
“Six years ago.”
“Who replaced you?”
Beatrice looked toward the door.
“I chose Roman.”
“Roman is dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“Roman chose someone else without telling me.”
Adriano stared.
“The chain broke.”
“Yes.”
“Why hide this?”
“Because I spent my life believing the Custodian protected Bellacorte from men like your father.”
“And?”
Beatrice looked at him.
“Then I realized the position itself had become the disease.”
Adriano’s anger shifted.
Not softened.
Shifted.
“Why mark Sophia?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why the heir bell?”
“Old mechanism.”
“Me.”
“Yes.”
“You were going to make me Custodian.”
“No.”
“Then why keep my claim?”
Beatrice smiled sadly.
“Your father wanted you boss.”
“And you?”
“I wanted you free.”
Adriano almost laughed.
“You have an unusual definition.”
“I know.”
Beatrice looked suddenly tired.
“Roman believed the family needed someone younger. Someone who could survive the modern world.”
“Who?”
“He refused to tell me.”
“Did Elena discover?”
“Almost.”
“What does that mean?”
“She found Roman meeting the successor.”
“Did she see the face?”
“I don’t know.”
Adriano’s eyes narrowed.
“The photograph at Winter House. Burned face.”
Beatrice nodded.
“That was the meeting.”
“Who took it?”
“Margaret.”
“Where is the original?”
“Gone.”
Adriano stepped closer.
“Tell me something useful.”
Beatrice’s eyes hardened.
“The successor has access to Sophia.”
Adriano went cold.
“Everyone does.”
“No.”
Beatrice shook her head.
“Physical access without guards noticing.”
Nora.
Staff.
Family.
Doctors.
Teachers.
Beatrice continued.
“Roman chose someone because nobody would think of them as power.”
Adriano stared.
“Margaret?”
“No.”
“How sure?”
“She refused the role years ago.”
“Nora?”
“I don’t know.”
“Anthony?”
“Too visible.”
“Lucian?”
“Possible.”
Adriano hated the word now.
Beatrice reached toward a drawer.
Removed an old photograph.
Sophia’s christening.
Family surrounding Elena holding the infant.
Beatrice pointed.
“Roman.”
Adriano saw his dead consigliere near the edge.
Beside him stood another person.
Face partly blocked.
A hand rested on Sophia’s stroller.
Adriano recognized the ring.
Not signet.
Wedding band.
Lucian.
His pulse changed.
Then he looked closer.
Lucian was looking away.
The hand on the stroller was not his.
It belonged to someone standing behind him.
A woman.
Adriano raised the photograph.
“Nora.”
Beatrice nodded.
“Nora was there.”
“Nora is always there.”
“Yes.”
That was the problem.
A knock sounded.
Anthony entered without waiting.
His face had gone pale.
“Boss.”
Adriano turned.
“Sophia?”
“Safe.”
“Elena?”
“Safe.”
“What?”
Anthony looked toward Beatrice.
“Lucian is gone.”
Adriano’s eyes narrowed.
“With?”
“No one.”
“Victoria?”
“Still here.”
“Where did he go?”
“We found his car near Saint Orsin.”
Adriano looked toward his mother.
Beatrice whispered:
“Roman chose Lucian.”
Adriano stared.
“You just said possible.”
“I never knew.”
“Now?”
She pointed toward the photograph.
“Roman only touched a successor in public once.”
Adriano looked again.
Roman’s hand.
Not visible before.
Resting on Lucian’s shoulder.
A transfer.
A blessing.
Or meaningless.
But Lucian had vanished.
Adriano was already moving.
Beatrice called:
“Adriano.”
He stopped.
“If Lucian is Custodian, he will expect revenge.”
Adriano turned.
“What does he not expect?”
His mother looked toward Sophia’s wing.
“A father who chooses his daughter first.”
Adriano stood still.
Then smiled.
Not warmly.
He finally understood.
He called Anthony.
“Do not follow Lucian.”
Anthony stared.
“What?”
“Bring Victoria to me.”
“Boss—”
“Lucian wants me away from the estate.”
May you like
Adriano looked toward the hallway.
“And I’m done leaving my daughter every time someone rings a bell.”
