“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then say what you meant.”
He glanced toward Sloane.
And suddenly I understood.
The Barrett alliance.
The engagement.
The merger of properties, political relationships, construction interests, private equity holdings.
My sons complicated everything.
Especially inheritance.
I looked at Sloane.
She still hadn’t spoken.
“Did you know?”
She met my eyes.
“Yes.”
My mother gasped.
I felt something inside me collapse.
“How long?”
Sloane placed her champagne glass on the table.
“Three weeks.”
My hand curled.
“You’ve known for three weeks that I had four children?”
“Yes.”
“And you came here tonight expecting me to propose?”
“No.”
The room froze.
Sloane reached into her clutch.
My uncle moved.
Just slightly.
But I saw it.
So did Sloane.
She smiled faintly.
“You really should work on your poker face, Matteo.”
Then she placed a small black flash drive on the table.
My uncle went pale.
Sloane looked at me.
“Your sons are only the beginning.”
My mother whispered, “What is that?”
“Insurance.”
My uncle started toward the table.
I stepped between him and the drive.
“Sit down.”
“Dominic—”
“Sit.”
He did.
Sloane pulled out her phone.
“My father has been negotiating with Matteo for almost eight years. The engagement wasn’t about marriage. It wasn’t even primarily about business.”
“What was it about?”
“Control.”
She looked directly at Matteo.
“Specifically, control of Moretti Holdings after Dominic’s death.”
My mother went white.
I stared at my uncle.
Matteo laughed.
“That is insane.”
Sloane tapped her phone.
A recording began playing.
My uncle’s voice filled the conservatory.
Once Dominic marries her, the structure changes.
Then another man’s voice.
Harrison Barrett.
Sloane’s father.
And if he refuses?
Matteo responded.
He won’t.
A pause.
Then Harrison again.
And afterward?
Matteo’s answer came quietly.
Accidents happen.
Nobody moved.
My mother gripped the back of a chair.
I looked at Sloane.
“How did you get this?”
“My father’s study.”
Matteo stood.
“Fabricated.”
Sloane laughed.
“I wondered if you’d say that.”
She opened another file.
More recordings.
Emails.
Documents.
Then something worse.
Financial transfers to Carlo Vitale dating back six years.
My pulse changed.
Sloane looked at me.
“Your mother did ask Carlo to convince Elena to leave.”
Francesca covered her mouth.
“But she never ordered the threatening messages.”
I stared at Matteo.
His face had become stone.
Sloane continued.
“Those payments came from a shell company controlled by Matteo.”
My uncle said nothing.
“Why?” I asked.
Sloane answered.
“Because Elena’s pregnancy threatened his plan.”
“What plan?”
She looked almost sorry.
“Your grandfather’s trust.”
I knew about the trust.
Or thought I did.
Sloane opened a scanned document.
“Article Seventeen. Read it.”
I did.
The language was dense.
Legal.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
