Chapter 12 - The Blood Test
The name was not Vincent Moretti.
Maria would later be grateful for that.
In the moment, she could not think at all.
The report listed Sofia’s biological father as:
MATTEO VESCARI.
Antonio’s younger brother.
Maria stared.
“That’s impossible.”
Antonio, summoned from downstairs, looked equally stunned.
“Matteo died seven years ago.”
Maria shook her head.
“I never knew anyone named Matteo.”
“Maybe not by that name.”
Vincent looked at Antonio.
“Photo.”
Antonio searched his phone.
He found an old family picture.
Two brothers.
Antonio.
And a younger man with softer features.
Maria went pale.
“Daniel Cruz.”
Antonio stared.
“What?”
“That was his name.”
She looked at the photograph again.
Before Diego, before Sofia, Maria had dated a man for four months.
Daniel Cruz.
He said he worked in construction.
Then he disappeared.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
Months later, Maria met Diego.
Sofia was born after their marriage.
The timing had always placed Diego as the father.
Maria had never questioned it.
Antonio sat down.
“Matteo was undercover.”
“Undercover for who?”
“Not police. For us.”
Vincent frowned.
Antonio continued.
“My brother infiltrated Carlo’s network.”
Maria’s voice shook.
“Why would he use me?”
“He probably didn’t.”
She laughed bitterly.
“He lied about his name.”
“Yes.”
“He lied about his work.”
“Yes.”
“He disappeared.”
Antonio looked down.
“Because Carlo found him.”
Maria understood.
“He was killed.”
Antonio nodded.
“Seven years ago.”
Vincent looked at the report.
“Then why track Sofia?”
Antonio’s face changed.
“Matteo stole something.”
“What?”
“A trust key.”
Maria frowned.
“What is that?”
“A set of codes controlling offshore accounts Carlo hid before faking his death.”
Vincent stared.
“How much?”
“Hundreds of millions.”
Maria almost laughed.
“This is about money?”
Antonio shook his head.
“Power.”
Sofia slept peacefully upstairs while adults discovered she had inherited a secret people had killed for.
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“Where is the key?”
Antonio looked toward Maria.
“Matteo may have hidden it with you.”
“I don’t have anything from him.”
“Think.”
Maria did.
There was nothing.
No jewelry.
No letters.
No gifts.
Except—
She remembered a music box.
Small.
Wooden.
A butterfly carved on top.
Daniel Cruz had given it to her shortly before he disappeared.
She had stored it after marrying Diego.
Years later, Sofia found it.
Maria’s heart began pounding.
“The butterfly.”
Vincent looked at her.
“What?”
“There’s a music box.”
“Where?”
Maria went cold.
“My apartment.”
The apartment that had been destroyed.
Vincent called Marco.
They searched the police inventory.
No music box.
Someone had taken it.
Antonio swore.
Vincent looked toward the forbidden room.
“All of this keeps returning to butterflies.”
Maria did too.
Lucia painted butterflies.
Matteo gave Maria a butterfly box.
Sofia wore Lucia’s yellow dress.
Someone deliberately guided Sofia into the room.
It was too precise.
Elena entered.
“What if Lucia knew?”
Vincent frowned.
“Knew what?”
“Lucia met Matteo once.”
Antonio stared.
“When?”
“At the estate.”
Elena looked toward him.
“You brought him.”
Antonio’s face changed.
“I forgot.”
Vincent stared at his mother’s former friend.
“You forgot my daughter met the man who fathered Sofia?”
“I didn’t know Sofia existed.”
“No one did.”
Elena moved toward the painting.
“Lucia loved his music box.”
Maria’s breath caught.
“She saw it?”
“Yes.”
Elena touched one painted butterfly.
“He showed her how the mechanism worked.”
Vincent looked at the mural.
“That means Lucia’s painting may not have been random.”
Elena nodded.
“She copied things she saw.”
They examined every butterfly.
Most were childish shapes.
But one, painted behind the girl’s shoulder, had numbers hidden in the wings.
Maria leaned closer.
The code Diego used.
Another butterfly.
Another.
Antonio photographed them.
“These look like account segments.”
Vincent stared at the wall.
Lucia had hidden financial codes in a child’s mural without understanding what they meant.
Matteo must have taught them to her as a game.
Maria felt sick.
A six-year-old had unknowingly preserved the key to Carlo’s hidden empire.
Sofia had completed the final butterfly.
The missing section.
Vincent looked at it.
Sofia had painted four dots.
One.
Seven.
Three.
Five.
Maria frowned.
“She paints random dots.”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“Sofia said the girl told her where the dots went.”
Maria almost dismissed it.
Then she remembered the hidden bracelet.
The secret passage.
The dress.
There had always been adults manipulating events.
Maybe Sofia had heard something.
Seen something.
A person pretending to be friendly.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“Who was with Sofia before she entered this room?”
Maria thought.
Kitchen staff.
Two maids.
Tomas.
And—
“Mrs. Russo.”
Vincent frowned.
“The housekeeper?”
Maria nodded.
“She gave Sofia cookies.”
Vincent looked at Marco.
“Find her.”
They searched.
Mrs. Russo was gone.
Her bedroom had been cleared.
Her employment papers were false.
Her references fabricated.
She had been at the Moretti estate for six years.
Long before Maria.
Long before Sofia.
Vincent stared at the empty room.
“How did we miss this?”
Marco looked ashamed.
“She was hired by Rocco.”
Of course.
A letter sat on Mrs. Russo’s bed.
Addressed to Sofia.
Maria opened it.
Inside was a single sentence.
THE LITTLE GIRL FINISHED WHAT LUCIA STARTED. NOW BRING HER TO THE PLACE WHERE BUTTERFLIES DON’T DIE.
Maria looked at Vincent.
“What place?”
Elena answered.
“Lucia’s garden.”
Vincent turned.
The memorial garden behind St. Catherine’s cemetery.
Where Lucia was buried.
Maria’s blood chilled.
“They want Sofia.”
Vincent’s expression became lethal.
“No.”
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Mrs. Russo’s voice.
“Bring the child.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Touch her and—”
“She is the only person who can open Carlo’s trust.”
“How?”
“The music box responds to the final sequence.”
Vincent looked at Sofia’s butterfly numbers.
“Then we don’t need Sofia.”
Mrs. Russo laughed.
“Yes, you do.”
“Why?”
“Because Matteo changed the lock.”
Maria listened.
Mrs. Russo continued.
“The account requires biometric confirmation from his direct heir.”
Vincent’s face changed.
Sofia.
Maria grabbed the phone.
“You stay away from my daughter.”
Mrs. Russo’s voice softened.
“Oh, Maria.”
“What?”
“You still don’t understand.”
A pause.
“I’m the one who put Sofia in Lucia’s room.”
Maria went cold.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed Vincent to finally uncover the truth.”
“Then why threaten us?”
“I didn’t.”
Maria stared at Vincent.
Mrs. Russo continued.
“The bullet. The photograph. The attack. Those were Carlo and Rocco.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To finish this.”
“How?”
“Bring Sofia to Lucia’s grave at noon.”
“No.”
Mrs. Russo sighed.
“Then Carlo’s final account remains untouched.”
“He’s under arrest.”
“He still owns half the people guarding him.”
The line went quiet.
Then Mrs. Russo said something that changed everything.
“Maria, Carlo Moretti escaped federal custody twenty minutes ago.”
The call ended.
Vincent immediately contacted the agents.
No answer.
Marco tried another number.
Nothing.
Then the estate gates opened by themselves.
Every security monitor went black.
A child’s music-box melody began playing through the house speakers.
Sofia woke upstairs.
Maria heard her tiny footsteps.
She ran toward the hall.
Sofia stood at the top of the staircase.
May you like
Holding the missing butterfly music box.
And someone had tied a fresh blue ribbon around her wrist.
