Chapter 6 - Blood Doesn't Make a Father
Grant Hale was waiting when Silvio returned to California.
Not at the Moretti offices.
Not at his mansion.
At the lake house gate.
Alone.
Silvio watched him through the security feed.
Grant stood beside a black sedan with both hands visible.
“No weapon,” Marco said.
“That we can see.”
Rachel wanted him arrested immediately for child endangerment.
Unfortunately, the resort cameras showed Lucinda locking the SUV.
Grant had not physically done it.
And his ugly comment, while suspicious, wasn’t enough by itself to support attempted-murder charges.
Not yet.
Silvio opened the gate.
Grant entered.
They met on the front terrace.
“You have something of mine,” Grant said.
Silvio almost laughed.
“What?”
“My son.”
There it was.
Not Ethan.
My son.
Silvio stepped closer.
“You’ve known for years.”
Grant’s eyes flickered.
“So Elena left the video.”
“Yes.”
Grant exhaled.
“I wondered where she hid it.”
“You’re admitting it?”
“I’m admitting Ethan is biologically mine.”
“Nothing else?”
Grant looked toward the house.
“I want to see him.”
“No.”
“I have rights.”
“You drugged him.”
“I never gave those pills to anyone.”
“Lucinda did.”
“That’s between you and your sister.”
Silvio stared at him.
“You’re throwing her away already?”
Grant smiled.
“Lucinda is an adult.”
Silvio finally understood Grant’s strategy.
If everything failed, he planned to blame Lucinda.
He stepped closer.
“You used my sister.”
“No.”
Grant looked almost amused.
“Your sister used me.”
The words irritated Silvio because part of him suspected they might be true.
Grant lowered his voice.
“You think Lucinda is the stupid wife following her husband?”
“I think both of you are dangerous.”
“You don’t know her.”
“She’s my sister.”
“That’s exactly why you don’t know her.”
Grant reached inside his jacket slowly.
Marco shifted.
Grant removed an envelope.
He placed it on the table.
“Ask Lucinda why your father changed his will three weeks before he died.”
Silvio didn’t touch it.
“I already know.”
“No. You know about the children’s trust.”
Grant smiled.
“I’m talking about your inheritance.”
Silvio opened the envelope.
A copy of Arturo’s will amendment.
Silvio read.
His father had originally intended to divide Moretti Holdings equally between Silvio and Lucinda.
Three weeks before his death, he changed it.
Silvio received controlling voting shares.
Lucinda received only non-voting equity.
Silvio had always assumed Arturo believed he was the better operator.
Grant pointed to the final paragraph.
Reason for amendment:
Beneficiary Lucinda Moretti has demonstrated conduct creating material risk to family interests and vulnerable heirs.
Silvio stared at the date.
One day before Arturo’s medication was altered.
Grant said, “Your father told Lucinda she was being cut out.”
“You expect me to believe you weren’t involved?”
“I wasn’t there.”
“You married her six months later.”
Grant shrugged.
“People connect during grief.”
“You connected to several hundred million dollars.”
“Same thing in your family.”
Silvio wanted to hit him.
Instead, he asked, “Where’s Voss?”
Grant’s face went blank.
“I don’t know.”
Silvio smiled.
“You’re terrible at lying when you’re afraid.”
Grant started toward his car.
Silvio stopped him.
“You’re not seeing Ethan.”
Grant turned.
“One day that boy will ask why you kept his father away.”
“You’re not his father.”
“I’m his blood.”
Silvio looked at him.
“David Russo changed diapers at three in the morning.”
Grant’s jaw tightened.
“David taught Ethan his first word. David held him through fevers. David put his name on that child’s birth certificate knowing the truth.”
Silvio moved closer.
“You contributed DNA.”
“That doesn’t make you a father.”
For the first time, Grant looked genuinely angry.
Then a small voice sounded from inside.
“He’s right.”
Ethan stood behind the glass door.
Mia beside him.
Grant froze.
Ethan opened the door.
Silvio moved to stop him.
The boy shook his head.
“I want to say something.”
Silvio stayed close.
Grant crouched.
“Ethan.”
The boy looked at him.
“Did you know?”
Grant hesitated.
“That I’m your father?”
Ethan nodded.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
Ethan’s lip trembled.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Grant took a step forward.
Silvio blocked him.
Grant said, “It was complicated.”
Ethan looked down.
“My dad told me things when he was sick.”
Silvio frowned.
David had died suddenly, not after a long illness.
“What things?”
Ethan looked at Grant.
“He said if a man ever told me blood made him my father, I should ask where he was when I needed him.”
Grant went pale.
Silvio stared at Ethan.
“How old were you?”
“Three.”
Ethan probably remembered only fragments.
But David had clearly suspected his own death might come.
Grant stood.
“This is manipulation.”
“No,” Mia said.
She stepped beside her brother.
“It’s family.”
Grant glared at her.
For an instant, the hatred in his face was unmistakable.
Mia took a step backward.
Silvio saw it.
So did Rachel, watching from inside.
Grant turned to leave.
Silvio called after him.
“You made one mistake at Bellavista.”
Grant stopped.
“You said too much.”
Grant looked over his shoulder.
Silvio continued.
“And now every time you come near these children, you’ll be watched.”
Grant smiled faintly.
“You still think I’m the biggest problem.”
Silvio didn’t answer.
Grant got into his car.
Before driving away, he lowered the window.
“Ask Evelyn what happened the night your mother disappeared.”
The vehicle left.
That evening, Rachel received a call from the hospital.
Evelyn Shaw had regained consciousness.
Silvio drove there immediately.
Evelyn looked frail.
A bandage covered her shoulder.
Silvio sat beside her.
“My mother said you protected my father’s worst secret.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“Isabella always did enjoy dramatic phrasing.”
“What happened the night she disappeared?”
Evelyn remained silent.
“Grant said to ask you.”
That got a reaction.
“Grant?”
“Yes.”
Evelyn’s eyes opened.
“He knows?”
“Apparently.”
She turned toward the window.
“I helped your father fake Isabella’s death.”
“I know.”
“That isn’t the worst part.”
“What is?”
Evelyn looked at him.
“The woman Frederick Hale’s men killed that night wasn’t your mother.”
Silvio frowned.
“They killed someone?”
Evelyn nodded.
“We needed them to believe Isabella was dead.”
“Who died?”
Evelyn’s voice became barely audible.
“Your aunt.”
Silvio’s blood ran cold.
“Elena’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She volunteered.”
“No one volunteers to die.”
“She didn’t know she would.”
Silvio stood.
Evelyn began crying.
“We thought the men would follow her. We didn’t know they would shoot.”
Silvio backed away.
“You used her as bait.”
“Yes.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“And you covered it up.”
“Yes.”
Silvio felt physically ill.
Everything his family wealth rested upon seemed infected.
Evelyn gripped his wrist.
“But Silvio…”
He looked at her.
“Frederick Hale wasn’t the person who ordered the shooting.”
“Then who was?”
Evelyn whispered a name.
Silvio stared at her.
“No.”
“It’s true.”
“That’s impossible.”
“The order came from someone inside your house.”
Silvio shook his head.
Evelyn said it again.
“Your grandmother, Margaret Moretti.”
Silvio stepped backward.
Margaret was eighty-nine.
The respected matriarch of the family.
The woman currently staying with relatives in Napa.
The woman who had raised Lucinda and Silvio after Isabella supposedly died.
May you like
Evelyn’s next words were worse.
“She created Lucinda.”
