Chapter 8 - AUNT KAY
Matteo smiled when Renzo asked about Aunt Kay.
That hurt more than fear would have.
“She brings good presents.”
“What kind?”
“Train. Telescope. Lego castle.”
“Does she visit a lot?”
“Sometimes.”
“When did you last see her?”
Matteo thought.
“Before Grandma Teresa got sick.”
“How long?”
Michael answered.
“November.”
Two months before Teresa died.
“Did you know she was Chiara Valli?”
“No.”
“She used another name.”
“Kay Valenti.”
Close enough to feel like mockery.
Renzo looked at Michael.
“Did Teresa trust her?”
“Not by the end.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
Of course.
Michael continued.
“Chiara paid for school and medical bills. Teresa hated accepting it.”
“But did.”
“Raising a child is expensive.”
“Why did it stop?”
“Teresa asked for legal clarification.”
“About what?”
“Matteo’s future.”
Renzo turned toward the playground.
“What future?”
“Teresa knew she was dying. She wanted a guardianship that would survive her.”
“And Chiara?”
“Said she would move Matteo to Switzerland.”
Renzo’s head snapped around.
“What?”
“She claimed there was a Castiglione family school.”
“There isn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“Did Teresa agree?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“She called Rosa.”
That explained Rosa’s involvement.
“Rosa had just had Leo?”
“Pregnant.”
“Teresa wanted her to take Matteo?”
“Temporarily.”
“Could she?”
“She was family to him, but not legally.”
“Then why not contact me?”
Michael laughed bitterly.
“Because every story Teresa knew about you ended with someone disappearing.”
Renzo absorbed it.
Again.
The consequences of reputation.
A weapon even when not used.
Back in New Jersey, Chiara requested another meeting.
This time Renzo agreed only with Detective Park aware and counsel present.
Chiara sat across from him.
“You found the money.”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t stolen.”
“Explain.”
“Security costs.”
“Teresa received ten thousand.”
“There were other expenses.”
“Name them.”
“Travel. Private investigators. School monitoring.”
“Forty thousand a month?”
Chiara’s mouth tightened.
“It fluctuated.”
“Through your consulting company.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To keep Matteo off family books.”
“He was on family books as ‘minor heir security.’”
“That was accounting.”
“Exactly.”
She looked away.
Renzo leaned forward.
“When did you decide Nico should inherit instead?”
“I didn’t.”
“You certified I had no living descendants.”
“Legally recognized.”
“You knew biological truth.”
“That certification used trust definitions.”
“Your lawyer wrote that?”
“No.”
“Then don’t hide inside words.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You think everything became easy the moment DNA came back.”
“No.”
“You have no idea how many times I almost told you.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
“Name one.”
“After Bellone.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“Next.”
“When you shut down the Brooklyn crew.”
Two years earlier.
Renzo had ordered an end to an extortion operation after federal pressure.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“You replaced them with someone worse.”
“Next.”
“When you started selling the clubs.”
Last year.
Renzo had been moving assets toward legitimate businesses.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“Because Teresa was dying, and I needed control before everything blew up.”
There.
“Control.”
Chiara’s face changed.
Renzo continued.
“You keep using Lucia as a shield. But Lucia asked you to protect Matteo from me until I changed.”
“You didn’t change enough.”
“Maybe.”
He nodded.
“But Lucia did not tell you to steal from the trust.”
Silence.
“Or lie about descendants.”
Silence.
“Or use Rosa’s newborn as bait.”
Chiara stood.
“I did not put that baby in the bin.”
“Then who did?”
“Stefano.”
The answer came too fast.
Every person in the room froze.
Chiara realized it.
Her lawyer closed his eyes.
Renzo spoke quietly.
“How do you know?”
She sat.
No answer.
Detective Park, observing through agreed conditions from an adjoining room? No, that's tricky. Let's keep meeting not police-observed. Renzo's counsel immediately stopped.
Chiara’s lawyer said, “This meeting is over.”
Renzo did not move.
“Did you tell Stefano to leave Leo there?”
“No.”
“Did you know he did?”
Chiara looked at him.
“I knew he had the baby.”
“When?”
“After Rosa ran.”
“Why didn’t you call police?”
“Because Rosa had stolen documents.”
“Her mother’s documents.”
“Castiglione records.”
“Matteo’s life.”
Chiara’s composure broke.
“You think this is about paper?”
“Tell me what it’s about.”
Her voice rose.
“I kept that child alive while you were putting men in hospitals!”
The room went quiet.
“You got to grieve,” she continued. “Do you understand that? You got to be the tragic father. I got phone calls from Teresa when Matteo had pneumonia. I paid pediatric bills under fake names. I sat three rows behind him at school concerts because I could not let him know who I was.”
“You chose that.”
“I inherited it.”
“Then profited from it.”
Her face collapsed.
There.
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Chiara.”
“I used some of the money.”
“How much?”
Silence.
“How much?”
“About four hundred thousand.”
Paolo’s records suggested more.
Still.
First admission.
“For what?”
“Nico’s business.”
Paolo had launched a restaurant group two years earlier.
It struggled.
“You gave my son’s protection money to your son.”
“I intended to repay it.”
Renzo laughed once.
A sentence older than every financial crime.
Chiara started crying.
“I had spent years protecting Matteo.”
“And then you decided you deserved a fee.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I decided my son deserved something too.”
There.
Not safety.
Balance.
Family arithmetic.
She continued.
“Nico grew up without his father. He watched everything go to you.”
“Your husband’s estate went to you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
“I was tired of one child’s tragedy being worth more than another’s.”
Renzo stared at her.
Matteo became an account.
Nico became an account.
Grief turned into comparison.
“Did Nico know?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“He would never—”
“I know.”
She looked surprised.
Then Renzo asked:
“Where are the missing hospital records?”
Chiara shook her head.
“I never had them.”
“Rosa did.”
“Yes.”
“Stefano took them.”
“I think so.”
“Where are they now?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Paolo called Renzo before the meeting even ended.
Renzo answered.
“Uncle.”
“What?”
“I found a blue file behind Mom’s safe.”
Chiara stopped breathing.
Renzo stared at her.
“What’s in it?”
“Lucia’s letters.”
“I’ve seen them.”
“Not these.”
Chiara whispered, “Paolo, stop.”
His voice continued through the speaker.
“There’s one addressed to Mom. Dated four years ago.”
Renzo looked at his sister.
Four years ago.
After Vittoria died.
After Bellone.
Paolo read the first line:
Chiara, if Renzo is still dangerous, protect Matteo. But do not confuse protecting him with keeping him from a father who has changed.
Renzo went still.
Lucia had anticipated Chiara too.
The next line:
You are not his mother. You do not get to make this permanent because secrecy becomes easier.
Chiara closed her eyes.
May you like
The letter had not given her indefinite power.
It had warned her against exactly what she later did.
