Page 88 of The Hidden Heir

“But Stefano’s dead. He was blown up. Dad practically cracked open a fucking champagne bottle that night when he got the news!”

I growl and shake my head slowly. “I couldn’t believe it either. But Victor looked into it. I thought he was fucking crazy. Even when we were posted outside the Mayfair house, I kept telling myself it’s insane, it can’t be…”

“Did you see him, Luca? Did you see Stefano?” Caroline asks.

“You’re damn right I fucking did. So I’m going to ask you again, one last time. Did. You. Know?”

“God, no,” she says and gets off the bed. She slips her feet into a pair of plush slippers and uses a wet wipe to clean her face from whatever oily substance was being used prior to my rude interruption. She takes a few deep breaths, pacing around the bed as she gathers her thoughts. “How is it even possible?”

“The chief medical examiner already corrected his colleague’s report. The body they initially thought was Stefano’s isn’t,” I say. “We’re still looking into the details of how it all happened, but our guess is that someone snuck Stefano out of the back room during a private dance session. Someone else took his place at the front of the party and got blown up in his stead.”

“Oh, my God,” Caroline gasps, leaning against the bed. She’s as pale as a sheet of paper, and I’m running out of reasons to doubt that her shock is anything but genuine. “Luca, why… I mean… why would Stefano… why would he do something like this?”

“I would’ve suggested that maybe he got tired of the life, maybe he was afraid of your father,” I reply. “Reasons to disappear I could find. But reasons to hide out in one of Mancuso’s mansions…”

“I swear to you on my mother’s grave, Luca, I had no idea. No wonder my father’s been so secretive about that place,” she says. “If he’s keeping Stefano there, he must have a reason, something… I don’t know.”

“He could be keeping Stefano hostage,” Victor suggests.

We haven’t really had time to discuss the possibilities. I had to leave before I compromised the entire operation, since I promised Victor and Caroline I wouldn’t take any action in Mayfair until I knew what was happening there.

“He could be squeezing him dry for information against you.”

Caroline is inclined to agree with Victor’s theory. I want to agree, too, but certain details don’t make enough sense. “It must be how he knew about your truck transports, the repercussions of hitting the ballroom that night, sabotaging the Camorra’s vote in his favor.”

“He wasn’t strapped to a chair or anything,” I say. “It looked to me like he had free range.”

“My father has different methods of getting information out of his targets,” Caroline says. “He doesn’t always resort to brutality and physical violence. Sometimes, he goes down the psychological road: imprisonment, negotiation, blackmail, coercion. That man has many ways to get what he wants.”

I believe her. Because believing that my brother would willingly betray our family is simply too outlandish, too nonsensical. Something is going on there, something darker beneath the surface. And I need Caroline to get me more information.

“You have to get your father to tell you more,” I say to her, “one way or another.”

“I agree,” she nods feverishly. “But I have to be careful how I approach this. One wrong move, and your brother might die—this time for real. I don’t know what my father is planning, but I do know he must have a lot riding on this, hence the secrecy.”

“Caroline, we cannot sit idly by in this instance,” Victor warns her. “We have to assemble a crew and extract Stefano from that place.”

Again, she nods. “Of course, just give me forty-eight hours. Two days, gentlemen. It’s all I ask. I’ll figure something out with as little collateral damage as possible. We have to be careful if we want to get Stefano back to your family alive and in one piece.”

26

VALENTINA

Late at night, I hear Luca downstairs.

He’s furious. Victor is with him. Their voices are muffled, but I recognize the anger. I feel it reverberating all the way up an upper floor. When something crashes, I’m startled, and I step out into the hallway, worried.

“I don’t fucking care, Victor! They’re all going to die by the time I’m done with them, each and every one of those motherfuckers!” Luca shouts.

My blood runs cold, and after the day I’ve had, the thoughts I’ve been fighting since I learned I was pregnant, I realize I cannot live like this. I’ve been hanging by a thread, vacillating between should I or shouldn’t I? My reasoning is sound, but my heart keeps getting in the way.

Tonight, however, these sounds of wrath and violence are too much.

With a heavy heart, I go back to Michael’s room and start packing his bag. He’s sound asleep, and I know the security detail’s movements in and around the mansion by now. I know where the cameras are; I’m aware of the dead angles and how I can leave here—at least physically. Emotionally, it will be a different issue altogether.

Victor texts me.

You might want to stay in Michael’s room tonight, he writes. Luca is dealing with a few things.