Daniel was alive, Mia might hold a dormant thirty-percent claim to part of the Moretti empire, and the original ownership ledger was hidden inside Silvio Moretti’s tomb.

But the most disturbing discovery was the burial authorization itself: Adrian’s mother, Serafina, had apparently arranged Daniel Rossi’s funeral despite being unable to speak for five years.

PART 3

Adrian did not believe the signature.

Not immediately.

That was progress.

Old Adrian would have treated recognition as certainty.

He looked at Victor.

“Authenticate it.”

Victor nodded.

“Independent?”

“Yes.”

“Not Moretti counsel?”

“No.”

Elena watched them.

“Your mother can’t speak.”

“No.”

“Can she write?”

“Yes.”

“Then she could sign.”

“She could.”

“Does she know Daniel?”

Adrian looked at her.

“I don’t know.”

That answer bothered him.

Serafina Moretti lived on the estate’s west wing.

Private nurses.

Limited visitors.

She understood conversations, wrote occasionally, but had withdrawn almost completely after her stroke.

Adrian visited every Sunday.

He told himself he knew her condition.

But perhaps he knew the routine, not the truth.

Mia tugged Elena’s sleeve.

“I wanna see Grandma.”

Adrian stared.

“What grandma?”

Mia pointed at him.

“Your mommy.”

Elena almost laughed despite everything.

“That’s not your grandma.”

Mia frowned.

“Old lady.”

Victor muttered:

“Diplomacy.”

Adrian looked at the clock.

9:14 p.m.

Too late for cemetery access without drawing attention.

Good.

He did not want to storm St.

Catherine’s at night.

Not with Mia involved.

“Where do we go?”

Elena asked.

Adrian looked at Victor.

“Not the estate.”

Victor nodded.

“Agreed.”

“Not any Moretti property.”

“Agreed.”

Elena stared.

“You have places you don’t own?”

“Disturbing number.”

They chose a residence belonging to Adrian’s attorney’s sister.

Unconnected.

No staff.

No registered Moretti security.

Victor remained separated from the group until his identity and involvement were reviewed.

He accepted that.

Again, useful.

At midnight, independent handwriting analysis returned.

Serafina’s signature was probably genuine.

Adrian stared.

Elena whispered:

“She signed it.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to ask.”

The next morning, Adrian returned to the estate alone.

Not unprotected.

But alone inside.

He went directly to Serafina’s sitting room.

His mother sat beside a window overlooking winter roses.

Seventy-five.

Silver hair.

One hand curled permanently from the stroke.

A tablet beside her.

She looked up when Adrian entered.

Then smiled.

He hated how normal that felt.

“Morning, Mama.”

She nodded.

He placed the burial authorization on the table.

Her smile vanished.

Adrian watched carefully.

“Did you sign this?”

Serafina looked at it.

Then at him.

Slowly, she reached for the tablet.

Typed.

YES.

His chest tightened.

“Why?”

She typed.

TO KEEP HIM ALIVE.

Adrian stared.

“What?”

Serafina wrote again.

THE FUNERAL IS NOT FOR DANIEL.

He frowned.

“Then why use his name?”

TO DRAW THEM OUT.

“Who?”

She hesitated.

Adrian felt cold.

“Mama.”

She typed one name.

GABRIEL.

Adrian stopped breathing.

Gabriel Moretti.

His older cousin.

Silvio’s godson.

Current chairman of the Moretti Foundation.

Adrian’s childhood protector.

The man who taught him to drive.

The man who held him at his father’s funeral.

Daniel’s video:

Someone Adrian has trusted since childhood.

“No.”

Serafina looked at him sadly.

Adrian stepped back.

“Gabriel?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

Her hand shook.

The typing came slower.

BECAUSE SILVIO STOLE FROM THE ROSSI FAMILY.

Adrian stared.

“And Gabriel wants to keep it buried.”

YES.

“He knows about Mia.”

YES.

“How?”

Serafina’s eyes filled.

She typed:

I TOLD HIM.

Silence.

Adrian felt something break.

“You what?”

She looked down.

“Mama.”

Her fingers moved.

I THOUGHT HE WOULD HELP.

“When?”

SIX MONTHS AGO.

“Before Elena came to work at the estate.”

YES.

Adrian stared.

Everything rearranged.

Six months.

Harbor Domestic Services hired Elena three months ago.

Mia began appearing after childcare failures.

Could Gabriel have arranged that?

“Did Gabriel recommend Harbor?”

Serafina nodded.

Adrian closed his eyes.

There.

The placement.

Not Victor.

Not Marco.

Gabriel.

“Why would you tell him about Mia?”

Serafina’s eyes filled.

She typed:

BECAUSE I WAS TIRED OF LYING.

Adrian looked at her.

“What did you know?”

Serafina reached for a drawer.

Inside sat an old photograph.

Silvio Moretti.

Matteo Rossi.

Young.

Standing outside the waterfront warehouse.

Not employees.

Partners.

Both holding champagne.

On the back:

MORETTI-ROSSI IMPORTS — FIRST PROFITABLE YEAR.

Adrian stared.

His father had erased an entire man from the company’s history.

“When did you learn?”

Serafina typed:

BEFORE I MARRIED SILVIO.

Adrian laughed bitterly.

“So everyone knew except me.”

NO.

“Gabriel?”

LATER.

“Marco?”

LATER.

“Daniel?”

HE FOUND IT.

“Why hide it?”

Serafina took a long time before answering.

BECAUSE SILVIO SAID REVEALING IT WOULD DESTROY THE FAMILY.

Adrian looked toward the window.

There it was.

The same excuse in another generation.

“Did you believe him?”

YES.

“And now?”

NO.

His anger softened slightly.

Not forgiveness.

Understanding.

“What exactly happened to Matteo Rossi?”

Serafina typed.

HE DIED.

“How?”

CONSTRUCTION ACCIDENT.

“Real?”

YES.

“Then?”

SILVIO BOUGHT OUT HIS WIDOW.

“With fraud?”

Serafina hesitated.

YES.

“Did she know?”

NO.

“Did he pay anything?”

YES.

“How much?”

NOT ENOUGH.

Important distinction.

Silvio had not simply stolen everything.

He had used imbalance and deception.

Adrian kept reading.

“What does Gabriel want?”

CONTROL.

“Of the company?”

YES.

“If Mia’s claim is restored?”

GABRIEL LOSES VOTING POWER.

“How much?”

Serafina typed:

MORE THAN YOU THINK.

Adrian frowned.

Gabriel held foundation proxies.

Family trust votes.

Charitable entities.

If thirty percent shifted to a separate Rossi trust, Gabriel’s network could collapse.

“Why fake Daniel’s funeral?”

Serafina typed:

MARCO’S IDEA.

Adrian stopped.

“Marco is working with you.”

YES.

“Daniel too?”

YES.

“So Daniel is alive.”

Serafina stared at him.

Then typed:

YES.

Adrian exhaled.

A clean answer.

Finally.

“Where is he?”

She hesitated.

“Don’t protect him from Elena.”

Serafina’s eyes filled.

She typed:

HE IS AT ST.

CATHERINE’S.

Adrian stood.

“Now?”

YES.

“What is happening?”

Serafina typed quickly.

THE FUNERAL IS BAIT.

“Bait for Gabriel.”

YES.

“How?”

Serafina pushed another paper toward him.

A forged funeral notice.

Daniel Rossi.

Private burial.

Family attendance only.

The notice had been sent to one person anonymously.

Gabriel.

Adrian stared.

“You expect him to come.”

YES.

“And then what?”

RECORD HIM.

“You’re running a trap.”

Serafina nodded.

“No.”

Adrian shook his head.

“You are seventy-five, recovering from a stroke, and coordinating a fake funeral.”

She raised one eyebrow.

Adrian almost laughed.

“Fair.”

Then the door opened behind him.

He turned.

Gabriel stood there.

Gray suit.

Silver tie.

No hurry.

Adrian’s blood went cold.

“Mama.”

Gabriel smiled.

“Adrian.”

Serafina’s face changed.

Fear.

Not theatrical.

Real.

Gabriel closed the door.

“You were always bad at whispering.”

Adrian stepped between him and Serafina.

“What are you doing here?”

“Visiting my aunt.”

“You don’t visit on Tuesdays.”

Gabriel looked toward the burial authorization.

“Apparently today is special.”

Adrian stared.

“Did you arrange Elena’s job?”

Gabriel smiled faintly.

“Yes.”

Serafina closed her eyes.

Adrian’s voice hardened.

“Why?”

“To see whether Daniel would surface.”

“Using Elena and Mia.”

“Yes.”

“You put them in my house.”

“I put them somewhere Daniel would notice.”

Adrian felt sick.

“Mia is three.”

“I know.”

“You used her.”

Gabriel’s smile disappeared.

“I never intended harm.”

“Everyone says that after using a child as leverage.”