Chapter 4 - A Mother’s False Legacy
The morning sun broke over the lake, casting long, golden fingers of light through the twenty-foot stained-glass windows of the Moretti estate dining hall.
For three years, this room had been a place of quiet, clinical sadness. Meals were served in strict silence, monitored by private nurses and stern housekeepers who treated my daughters like fragile glass statues ready to shatter at the slightest movement.
Today, the room was loud.
Lily was sitting on a booster chair, vigorously smearing strawberry jam onto a piece of toast while making airplane noises. Beside her, Sofia was sitting in a normal wooden dining chair—not her high-backed medical seat—her tiny legs dangling above the polished floor, swinging back and forth with rhythmic, joyful freedom.
Elena stood near the sideboard, wearing a simple burgundy cardigan over a dark dress, quietly pouring fresh orange juice into two small plastic cups.
I sat at the head of the long oak table, a cup of untouched black coffee sitting before me, watching the three of them.
"Elena," I called out softly.
She paused, setting the crystal pitcher down, and looked over at me. "Yes, Mr. Moretti?"
"Sit down," I said, gesturing to the high-backed leather chair to my right—the chair my mother had occupied every morning for ten years.
Elena hesitated, her fingers lightly tapping against her skirt. "Mr. Moretti, it isn't proper. I am staff. The guards outside—"
"The guards outside work for me," I interrupted gently. "And in this house, the woman who gave my daughter her legs doesn't stand while we eat. Sit."
Elena took a quiet breath, stepped over to the table, and pulled out the chair. She sat down with grace, her posture straight, her dark eyes looking across at me with a mixture of curiosity and subtle caution.
"Daddy, look!" Sofia squeaked, pointing down at her ankles. "No iron boots! My feet are light like feathers!"
"I see that, sweetheart," I said, a rare, genuine smile breaking across my face as I leaned over to kiss Sofia's forehead. "No more iron boots. Ever again."
"Are we going to the park today?" Lily asked, her cheeks covered in red jam. "Elena said if Sofia walked ten steps, we could go see the ducks at the pond!"
I looked at Elena. "Did she now?"
Elena blushed slightly, looking down at her napkin. "I... I made a promise to them last week, sir. I didn't realize the security situation would be... complicated today."
"The security situation is handled," I said, my voice hardening slightly as I thought of my mother currently locked in the north guest house under double guard. "If my daughters want to see the ducks, we go to the park."
Before Lily could cheer, the heavy double doors of the dining hall clicked open.
Mateo walked into the room, holding a thick leather bound file under his arm. His face was grave, devoid of its usual calm demeanor.
"Boss," Mateo said softly, casting a quick glance at the children. "We finished reviewing the documents found in Mrs. Victoria's private safe in the study."
I set my coffee cup down with a sharp clink. "What did you find?"
"It's... sensitive, sir," Mateo replied. "It concerns your late wife, Isabella."
The room seemed to drop five degrees in temperature.
Elena immediately recognized the change in atmosphere. She stood up, reaching out her hands toward the girls. "Lily, Sofia, let's go up to the playroom and pack our duck bread, okay?"
"Yay! Duck bread!" Lily cheered, sliding down from her chair and grabbing her sister's hand.
Sofia stood up slowly, using the edge of the table for balance, before taking four steady, deliberate steps toward Elena, reaching up to take her hand.
I watched them leave the room, my chest tightening with a profound mix of pride and lingering grief.
Once the nursery doors clicked shut upstairs, I turned back to Mateo. "Speak."
Mateo walked over, laying the thick leather folder flat on the table, opening it to reveal a series of old medical logs, bank wire receipts, and handwritten letters bearing my mother's distinct, sharp penmanship.
"Your wife Isabella didn't die because of an accidental brake failure on the lake highway five years ago, Boss," Mateo whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "Victoria paid the head mechanic at the family garage two hundred thousand dollars to loosen the brake fluid lines before Isabella left for the hospital."
I sat frozen in my chair.
The air in my lungs turned to pure, bitter ash.
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"Why?" I managed to ask, my knuckles turning bone-white as my hands clamped onto the edge of the table.
"Because Isabella found out what Victoria was doing with the family offshore accounts in Zurich," Mateo explained, turning a page to show a series of wire transfers. "Isabella was going to tell you the truth the night she went into labor. Victoria couldn't let that happen. She killed your wife, Boss... and then she spent three years keeping Sofia crippled so you would never leave her sight."
