Luca’s jaw tightened.
“Matteo.”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Luca stared at her.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I don’t know!”
Her voice cracked.
“Gabriel never told me the name.”
“What happened to him?”
“The next morning, police found his motorcycle beside the harbor.”
“And his body?”
“Never found.”
Luca had lived in a world where bodies disappeared every week.
A missing body did not mean a missing man.
Usually it meant a dead one.
“Why did you stay here?”
Elena looked at him with an expression he could not understand.
“Because Gabriel told me to.”
“What?”
“The night before he vanished. He made me promise that no matter what happened, I would stay at Villa Rinaldi.”
“That makes no sense.”
“He said one day you would need someone inside who had not been bought.”
Luca stared at her.
“And you waited three years to tell me?”
“I didn’t know who to trust.”
“You could have trusted me.”
She laughed bitterly through tears.
“You were Luca Rinaldi.”
He almost answered.
Then realized there was nothing to say.
She was right.
By October, Luca could stand.
Only for six seconds.
Only with both hands gripping parallel bars Amara had secretly installed in an abandoned wine cellar beneath the villa.
But he stood.
Sofia counted aloud.
“One… two… three…”
His arms trembled.
“Four…”
His knees buckled.
“Five…”
“Six!”
He collapsed into the wheelchair.
Sofia cheered as if he had won the Olympics.
Amara leaned against the wall, smiling.
Luca’s shirt was soaked with sweat.
“Again.”
“No,” Amara said.
“Again.”
“You’ll injure yourself.”
“I said—”
“You pay me for medical advice.”
“I don’t pay you at all.”
“Exactly. So I’m impossible to fire.”
Sofia giggled.
Luca glared at both of them.
But for the first time since the crash, something like life had returned to his face.
Then the cellar door opened.
All three froze.
A figure stood at the top of the stairs.
Matteo.
Nobody moved.
His gaze traveled from Amara to the bars.
Then to Luca.
Standing was impossible to hide.
Except Luca was seated now.
Matteo smiled.
“What is this?”
Sofia stepped backward.
Luca answered calmly.
“Physical therapy.”
“At midnight?”
“Dr. Vale has unusual hours.”
Matteo descended.
“You never told me.”
“I didn’t realize I required permission.”
Matteo stopped beside the chair.
For one terrible second, Luca thought his brother knew everything.
Then Matteo crouched.
His voice softened.
“Any improvement?”
Luca looked directly into his eyes.
“No.”
Matteo’s shoulders relaxed.
Barely.
But enough.
Sofia saw it too.
Luca knew because her gaze snapped toward him.
Matteo smiled.
“I’m sorry.”
He stood.
“We all keep hoping.”
Luca returned the smile.
“Yes.”
“I know.”
Two days later, Bellini increased Luca’s dosage.
There was no medical reason.
Amara confirmed it.
Someone had grown suspicious.
Luca accelerated his investigation.
Antonio Ricci’s financial records showed monthly transfers to a shell corporation in Malta.
Bellini received payments from the same corporation.
The company was controlled through three layers of trusts.
At the center sat a familiar name.
Matteo Rinaldi.
The evidence looked perfect.
Too perfect.
Luca had survived too long to trust perfect evidence.
So he created a trap.
At breakfast on Friday, with Matteo and Bellini present, Luca pretended to experience a severe loss of movement in his right hand.
Bellini examined him.
“This may indicate progression.”
Matteo looked devastated.
“What can we do?”
“Adjust the medication.”
Luca let his head fall backward.
“Do whatever you need.”
That night, Luca secretly sent word through a trusted guard that he planned to sign permanent executive control of Rinaldi Holdings to Matteo the following Monday.
Then he waited.
Nothing happened Friday.
Nothing Saturday.
On Sunday morning, Sofia disappeared.
Elena found the pink treasure box open on her bed.
