Chapter 10 — The Man Who Ordered the Crash
Chapter 10 — The Man Who Ordered the Crash
Richard Bell had spent twenty-four years teaching Lorenzo DeLuca one lesson.
Never trust a man who speaks softly.
Now, as Isabella sat across from him in the abandoned church, she understood the irony.
Richard had spent twenty-four years pretending to be a servant of the DeLuca family.
He had been the lawyer.
The adviser.
The man who appeared whenever there was a crisis and disappeared whenever someone needed someone to blame.
He had attended funerals.
Signed documents.
Moved money.
Buried secrets.
And tonight, he had finally revealed himself.
But Isabella wasn't afraid of him anymore.
Not tonight.
Not after everything she had survived.
“You heard him,” Richard said.
“He's coming.”
Isabella looked at him.
“You sound surprised.”
“I expected him to come alone.”
“He won't.”
Richard's expression tightened.
“You're certain?”
“I know my husband.”
Richard leaned back.
“You've spent eight months pretending he was dead to you.”
“I never pretended he was dead to me.”
“You allowed him to mourn you.”
“I allowed him to survive.”
Richard smiled.
“You always were sentimental.”
“No.”
Isabella looked toward the locked doors.
“That's where you keep making your mistake.”
Richard's smile faded.
“What mistake?”
“You think love made me weak.”
She leaned forward.
“It made me patient.”
Across the city, Lorenzo stared at the note.
BRING ISABELLA.
Beneath it:
OR THE CHILDREN DIE.
His hand closed around the paper.
Twenty-three children.
Emma.
Isabella.
And a man who had apparently been dead for years.
Every secret seemed connected.
But one question remained.
The crash.
Lorenzo turned toward Matteo.
“You told me Isabella's disappearance began with the crash.”
“Yes.”
“You told me my father ordered the attack.”
“Yes.”
“But you also told me Richard Bell controls the network.”
“Yes.”
“Then who ordered the crash?”
Matteo didn't answer.
Lorenzo stepped closer.
“I'm asking you one last time.”
Matteo looked at him.
“Richard.”
Lorenzo froze.
“Not my father?”
“Your father wanted the baby.”
“Richard wanted Isabella.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Isabella had found the ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“The original one.”
Lorenzo's expression changed.
“The account.”
Matteo nodded.
“The account your father spent his entire life trying to erase.”
Lorenzo remembered Isabella's words.
I found something.
He had thought she meant money.
He had been wrong.
“What was in the ledger?”
Matteo's voice became quiet.
“Every person Richard had bought.”
They drove through Manhattan without headlights.
Lorenzo sat in the back seat with Elena and Matteo.
Sophia was unconscious but alive.
She had insisted on coming after waking.
Lorenzo had refused.
So she stayed at the safe house with two guards.
For once, someone had listened to him.
The city passed outside the windows.
Buildings.
Traffic lights.
People walking home.
A city unaware that twenty-three children might be murdered before sunrise.
Lorenzo looked at Matteo.
“Where is the church?”
“Below Canal Street.”
“Who owns it?”
“No one.”
“Who controls it?”
“Richard.”
Lorenzo stared through the windshield.
“And the children?”
“Some are there.”
“How many?”
“Seven.”
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
“Seven?”
“The others are in separate locations.”
“Why?”
“To make them harder to find.”
“Who moved them?”
“Isabella.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew Richard would eventually discover the network.”
Lorenzo turned.
“And she still didn't tell me.”
“She was protecting you.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
His voice became bitter.
“I am beginning to hate those words.”
Matteo said nothing.
Lorenzo looked down at his hands.
Eight months ago, he had lowered an empty coffin into the earth.
He had touched the wood.
He had imagined his daughter's tiny body inside.
He had spoken Isabella's name to a grave.
He had spent months hunting men who didn't exist.
And all that time—
his wife had been fighting a war.
His daughter had been alive.
And his closest friends had known.
He wanted to be furious.
He was furious.
But beneath the anger was something worse.
Shame.
He should have seen it.
He should have known Isabella would never leave without a reason.
He should have questioned the coffin.
He should have questioned the body.
He should have questioned why the explosion had destroyed everything except her necklace.
He should have questioned why there had been no DNA.
Instead, he had buried her.
And Richard had counted on that.
The church appeared at the end of an alley.
Abandoned.
Dark.
Its stone walls were black with age.
Lorenzo stepped out of the vehicle.
Elena caught his arm.
“Wait.”
He looked at her.
She pointed upward.
A camera.
Then another.
Then another.
“We're being watched.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“I know.”
“You can't go inside.”
“My daughter is inside.”
“We don't know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
Lorenzo pulled out his phone.
A message had arrived.
SHE'S HERE.
Then:
COME UPSTAIRS.
Elena's face tightened.
“It's a trap.”
“Of course it is.”
“And you're still going?”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“I'm a father.”
He stepped toward the door.
“That makes traps irrelevant.”
The church doors opened before he touched them.
Darkness waited inside.
Lorenzo entered.
The doors slammed shut behind him.
He heard the locks engage.
One.
Two.
Three.
He didn't turn around.
A voice echoed from the balcony.
“Welcome home.”
Richard.
Lorenzo looked up.
“Where is Isabella?”
“Impatient.”
“Where is my daughter?”
“Closer than you think.”
Lorenzo's eyes moved across the church.
Candles had been placed along the aisle.
At the end stood a small wooden chair.
On it was Emma's gray rabbit.
Lorenzo's stomach dropped.
“Bring her out.”
Richard appeared at the top of the stairs.
“You still think this is a negotiation.”
“No.”
Lorenzo raised his gun.
Richard smiled.
“You came unarmed.”
“I didn't.”
Richard laughed.
“Your weapons are outside.”
Lorenzo's expression didn't change.
“I only need one.”
“What?”
“My hands.”
Richard's smile disappeared.
Lorenzo moved.
He crossed the aisle faster than Richard expected.
A man stepped from the shadows.
Lorenzo struck him.
Another attacked.
Lorenzo drove him into a pew.
A third raised a gun.
A shot cracked.
The gun flew from the man's hand.
Elena stood behind Lorenzo.
“I told you I was coming.”
Richard backed away.
“Kill her.”
More men emerged.
Matteo opened fire.
The church erupted.
Lorenzo moved toward the stairs.
“Isabella!”
No answer.
Then—
a cry.
A baby's cry.
Lorenzo froze.
That sound.
It couldn't be.
There were no babies here.
The crying came from behind a locked door.
Richard looked toward it.
For the first time, fear crossed his face.
Lorenzo saw it.
He ran.
He reached the door.
Locked.
He kicked it.
Once.
Twice.
The frame cracked.
A third kick—
the door exploded inward.
Inside was a room.
Seven children.
All alive.
Some asleep.
Some crying.
And in the center—
Emma.
She was sitting on a woman's lap.
Lorenzo stopped breathing.
The woman looked up.
Chestnut eyes.
Wet with tears.
Isabella.
Alive.
Lorenzo couldn't move.
Neither could she.
Eight months of grief disappeared in a single second.
He whispered her name.
“Isabella.”
She stood.
Emma ran toward him.
“Daddy!”
Lorenzo caught her.
He lifted her against his chest.
Then he looked at Isabella.
She was crying now.
He crossed the room.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Lorenzo whispered:
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“You let me bury you.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe our daughter was dead.”
“I know.”
“You let me hate myself.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
“I know.”
His voice cracked.
“Why?”
She looked at him.
“Because Richard had a gun pointed at your head before the crash.”
Lorenzo froze.
“What?”
“He told me that if I didn't disappear, he would kill you.”
“You should have told me.”
“I couldn't.”
“You should have trusted me.”
“I did.”
“Then why didn't you come back?”
“Because every time I tried, someone died.”
Lorenzo's anger faltered.
“Who?”
Isabella looked at the children.
“People who helped me.”
She pointed toward the room.
“Seven of them.”
Then she looked at Emma.
“Your daughter was supposed to be the eighth.”
Lorenzo held Emma tighter.
“Who ordered the crash?”
Isabella stared at him.
“I did.”
Silence.
Lorenzo's face changed.
“What?”
“I knew Richard was going to kill us.”
“So you ordered the attack?”
“No.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I gave him a target.”
Lorenzo stared.
“You used your own death as bait.”
“Yes.”
“You knew there would be an explosion.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I would find the wreck.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I would bury you.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I knew.”
Lorenzo stepped backward.
The truth hurt more than any lie.
“You let me suffer.”
“I let you live.”
“Don't tell me that.”
“It's true.”
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
“Eight months, Isabella.”
“I know.”
“I woke up every night hearing the explosion.”
“I know.”
“I searched every warehouse in New York.”
“I know.”
“I killed men because I thought they killed you.”
Isabella's face went pale.
“Lorenzo…”
“I became the monster everyone thought I was.”
“I know.”
“Why didn't you stop me?”
“Because if I contacted you, Richard would know Emma survived.”
Lorenzo looked at their daughter.
Emma had buried her face against his shoulder.
Isabella whispered:
“I chose her.”
Lorenzo looked back at her.
“So did I.”
A slow clap came from the doorway.
Richard.
“Beautiful.”
Lorenzo turned.
Richard stood with a gun against Matteo's head.
Elena was on her knees nearby.
Two men held her arms.
Richard smiled.
“You finally reunited the family.”
Lorenzo raised his weapon.
“Let them go.”
Richard laughed.
“You still think you're in control.”
“No.”
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
Then at Emma.
Then at the seven children.
“I know exactly who's in control.”
Richard's eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
Lorenzo pointed his gun at the floor.
“The man who has nothing left to lose.”
Richard's expression changed.
“Put the weapon down.”
Lorenzo dropped it.
Isabella stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Trusting you.”
Richard smiled.
“Good.”
He stepped forward.
Then Matteo headbutted him.
The gun went off.
Elena rolled away.
Lorenzo lunged.
Everything happened at once.
A gunshot.
A scream.
A body falling.
Isabella grabbed Emma.
Lorenzo attacked the nearest guard.
Elena fired twice.
Matteo wrestled Richard toward the wall.
Richard hit him.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then Lorenzo reached them.
He grabbed Richard by the throat.
“You ordered the crash.”
Richard laughed.
“Yes.”
Lorenzo tightened his grip.
“You killed my family.”
“No.”
Richard smiled.
“I saved it.”
“You killed Isabella.”
“No.”
“You killed the children.”
“No.”
“You destroyed my father.”
Richard's smile widened.
“That part is true.”
Lorenzo froze.
“What?”
Richard whispered:
“Your father wasn't Michael.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Then who was he?”
Richard's eyes moved toward Isabella.
“Ask your wife.”
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
She was pale.
“Isabella?”
She closed her eyes.
Richard laughed.
“She knows.”
Lorenzo's voice became quiet.
“What does she know?”
Isabella stepped forward.
“Lorenzo…”
“What does she know?”
Richard interrupted.
“She knows why your mother disappeared.”
Lorenzo's blood ran cold.
“My mother didn't disappear.”
Richard smiled.
“You were told she died.”
Lorenzo felt the world tilt.
“She died when I was sixteen.”
“No.”
Richard's voice was almost gentle.
“She was taken.”
“By whom?”
Richard looked at Isabella.
“Ask her.”
Lorenzo turned.
Isabella was crying.
“Tell me.”
She swallowed.
“Your mother was one of the twenty-three.”
Lorenzo couldn't breathe.
“One of the children?”
“No.”
“One of the witnesses.”
“Yes.”
“What did she witness?”
Isabella stepped closer.
“The first murder.”
“Whose murder?”
She whispered:
“Your real father's.”
Lorenzo stared.
Richard smiled.
“And now you understand why the crash had to happen.”
Lorenzo's face went blank.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Richard continued.
“Your wife discovered the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“She discovered the children.”
“Yes.”
“She discovered the truth about your mother.”
“Yes.”
“And then she discovered the worst secret of all.”
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
“What?”
Isabella's voice broke.
“You weren't Michael DeLuca's son.”
Lorenzo shook his head.
“No.”
“You were never supposed to inherit the DeLuca empire.”
“Then who am I?”
Richard answered.
“The rightful heir.”
“To what?”
Richard smiled.
“Everything.”
The room fell silent.
Even the children stopped crying.
Richard looked at Lorenzo.
“Your biological father built the original empire.”
“Who?”
Richard's expression changed.
“A man your grandfather murdered.”
“Name him.”
Richard laughed softly.
“You already know his name.”
Lorenzo stared.
Then Isabella whispered it.
“Antonio Varga.”
Elena froze.
Richard smiled.
“Her father.”
Lorenzo turned toward Elena.
She looked devastated.
“You're saying…”
Richard nodded.
“Lorenzo is the son of Antonio Varga.”
Elena stared at Lorenzo.
“My father?”
Richard smiled.
“Yes.”
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
She nodded through her tears.
“That's why Richard wanted Emma.”
“Why?”
“Because Emma is the heir to both bloodlines.”
Lorenzo looked at his daughter.
His entire life had been built on a lie.
His name.
His inheritance.
His family.
His father's death.
Even his marriage.
Richard had known.
Isabella had known.
And Elena was now looking at him as though she didn't know whether to hate him or protect him.
Lorenzo turned back toward Richard.
“You ordered the crash.”
“Yes.”
“You tried to kill my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“You kidnapped Isabella.”
“Yes.”
“You manipulated my entire family.”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo raised his gun.
Richard smiled.
“Go ahead.”
Lorenzo's finger tightened.
Then Emma spoke.
“Daddy.”
He looked down.
She was holding the gray rabbit.
“Mommy said not to kill him.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Why?”
Emma looked at Isabella.
Isabella stepped closer.
“Because killing Richard won't end this.”
“Then what will?”
She handed Lorenzo a small black drive.
“This.”
He looked at it.
“What is it?”
“The ledger.”
Richard's face changed.
For the first time—
he looked genuinely afraid.
Lorenzo understood.
The entire war had been about this.
Not money.
Not power.
Not revenge.
Proof.
He looked at Richard.
“It's over.”
Richard shook his head.
“No.”
Lorenzo smiled.
“Yes.”
He raised the drive.
“Because you made one mistake.”
Richard stared at him.
“What?”
“You assumed the truth belonged to you.”
Sirens began sounding outside.
Hundreds of them.
Richard's face went white.
Lorenzo looked toward the church doors.
Federal agents stormed through.
Behind them came reporters.
Cameras.
Investigators.
The seven children were immediately surrounded by protective officers.
Elena lowered her weapon.
Matteo dropped to his knees.
Richard stood completely still.
Lorenzo looked at Isabella.
“You called them.”
She nodded.
“When?”
“Before I let Richard take me.”
Lorenzo smiled faintly.
For the first time in eight months, he felt something other than grief.
Hope.
But then one of the federal agents approached.
“Mr. DeLuca.”
Lorenzo turned.
“What?”
The agent's face was grim.
“We have a problem.”
“What problem?”
He handed Lorenzo a photograph.
It showed a man leaving a courthouse.
Lorenzo recognized him immediately.
Richard Bell's brother.
The man everyone believed had died twenty years ago.
The agent whispered:
“He has the original ledger.”
Lorenzo's expression hardened.
“Where is he?”
The agent looked at Isabella.
Then at Elena.
“He's heading for the DeLuca estate.”
Isabella's face went pale.
“Why?”
The agent swallowed.
“Because he has one hostage.”
Lorenzo's heart stopped.
“Who?”
The agent answered:
“Your mother.”
And somewhere across New York, a woman who had been declared dead twenty-four years earlier opened her eyes inside a locked room.
She looked at the man standing over her.
Then she smiled.
Because she knew something he didn't.
Lorenzo was coming.
And this time—
May you like
he was not coming to save a dead woman.
He was coming to bring his entire family home.
