Chapter 5 - Blood Is Not Proof

Luca did not explode.

Maya almost wished he had.

Instead, he became very quiet.

Dominic Vale was his mother’s sister’s son, raised partly in the Moretti home after his father went to prison. He had worked beside Luca for seventeen years, first as a driver, later as an operations executive, and eventually as director of the Moretti Foundation.

“He held Alessia the day she was born,” Luca said.

Marco closed the study doors. “He also had access to school transportation.”

“Access isn’t proof.”

Maya watched Luca say it to himself more than to them.

“No,” she agreed. “It isn’t.”

He looked at her sharply, perhaps expecting accusation.

“Alessia identified a symbol,” Maya continued. “Children can misremember. Especially under trauma.”

Marco nodded. “We verify everything.”

Luca stared at Dominic’s photograph. “Good.”

His phone rang.

Dominic.

No one moved.

Luca answered on speaker. “Yes.”

“Thank God,” Dominic said. “Marco finally told me Alessia is home. I’ve been calling for an hour. How is she?”

“Fever. Dehydration.”

“Jesus. I’m coming over.”

“No.”

A pause.

“Luca?”

“She’s overwhelmed. No visitors.”

“I’m family.”

The word settled heavily in the room.

Luca’s face gave away nothing. “Later.”

Dominic exhaled. “All right. I understand. Listen, the board is panicking. Reporters know something happened. I can handle the foundation and keep people away from you.”

“Do that.”

“I love that kid, Luca.”

Luca’s eyes closed for half a second.

“I know.”

After the call ended, Marco said, “He sounded normal.”

“So do people who rehearse,” Maya replied.

Luca gave her a tired look. “You really are a criminology student.”

“I warned you.”

They spent the afternoon separating suspicion from evidence.

Bell Municipal Systems had received three contracts through a foundation-backed neighborhood safety initiative. Dominic had approved two. Isabella had questioned the third before her death.

Owen Bell, the municipal contractor whose stolen credentials disabled the cameras, was not an owner. His uncle was.

The shell companies in Isabella’s files led through four states before ending at a trust in Delaware.

Marco’s analyst found the trust beneficiary at 4:20 p.m.

Not Dominic Vale.

Victor Moretti.

Luca’s younger brother.

The discovery hit the room like broken glass.

Luca stared at the screen. “Run it again.”

“We did.”

“Again.”

The analyst obeyed.

Same result.

Maya looked at Luca. “Tell me about Victor.”

“No.”

“That wasn’t personal curiosity.”

“It’s still no.”

He walked out.

Marco waited until the door shut. “Victor and Luca haven’t spoken privately in almost a year.”

“Why?”

“Their father left Luca control of the legitimate companies. Victor got money and minority shares. He believed Luca stole his inheritance.”

“Did he?”

Marco’s expression was neutral. “Depends which brother you ask.”

Maya looked at the trust records. “Could Dominic have used Victor’s name?”

“Possible.”

“Could Victor be the silver bird?”

“No. Dominic’s falcon pin is a Vale family crest.”

“So we have two roads.”

“And they may meet.”

Upstairs, Alessia refused dinner until Maya sat beside her.

Luca eventually returned, calmer but harder.

“Your roommate is downstairs,” he said.

Maya nearly dropped her spoon. “What?”

“Janelle Brooks. She arrived twenty minutes ago and informed my front gate that she would call every television station in Chicago if she did not see you alive.”

Maya covered her face.

“I like her,” Rosa said.

Janelle entered the bedroom five minutes later, took one look at Maya, one look at Luca, and whispered, “You have lost your entire mind.”

“I missed a bus.”

“This is not a bus.”

Alessia giggled.

Janelle’s expression softened immediately. “Oh. Hi.”

“I’m Alessia.”

“I’m Janelle. Apparently your friend kidnapped my roommate.”

Luca lifted an eyebrow.

Maya said, “Wrong word.”

“Is it?”

For the first time since the warehouse, Alessia laughed hard enough to cough.

Luca’s face changed at the sound.

Later, downstairs, Janelle pulled Maya aside.

“You’re staying here?”

“Just until she stabilizes.”

“Maya, these people have armed guards.”

“I noticed.”

“And somebody kidnapped that child.”

“I noticed that too.”

Janelle lowered her voice. “Then notice this. Your apartment door was open when I got home.”

Maya went still.

“What?”

“Nothing obvious was stolen. But your desk was searched.”

Across the room, Luca had heard every word.

His face became lethal.

Maya whispered, “Why would anyone search my things?”

Marco answered from behind her.

“Because someone knows you were with Alessia.”

Before they left Victor’s building, he opened a desk drawer and handed Luca an old photograph. It showed Isabella at a summer barbecue, Alessia still an infant in her arms, Dominic laughing beside her and Victor holding a paper plate.

“You keep talking like there was always a villain in the room,” Victor said. “There wasn’t. That’s why this worked.”

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Luca stared at the photograph.

Maya understood the warning. Betrayal was easiest to see afterward, when every ordinary memory could be rearranged into evidence. They would have to resist that temptation too.