Chapter 5 - BLOOD AND BETRAYAL
The wrought-iron gates of the Duca Estate in Bedford, New York, swung open automatically as Matteo’s Range Rover approached. The security guards at the gatehouse recognized Matteo’s vehicle and waved him through without a second thought.
The estate sat on forty rolling acres of manicured lawn, ancient weeping willows, and private woods. At the end of the winding cobblestone driveway stood the main house—a stone manor that had belonged to the Duca dynasty for three generations.
Matteo didn't park in the driveway. He drove the SUV directly across the pristine lawn, the tires tearing deep ruts into the manicured grass, coming to a screeching halt directly in front of the limestone portico.
Mara jumped out of the passenger side. "Matteo, listen to me. We do not know who is on this property. Luciana has private security contractors—former state troopers."
"Let them try," Matteo snarled.
He took the grand stone steps two at a time and pushed through the heavy oak double doors without knocking.
The foyer was warm, smelling of polished cedar and expensive beeswax candles. Standing near the grand staircase was Luciana Duca, wearing a dark silk blouse and reading a leather-bound book. She looked up, her expression entirely serene, as if she had been expecting him.
"You’re ruining the turf, Matteo," she said coolly, closing the book. "I spend forty thousand dollars a year maintaining that lawn."
Matteo walked straight up to her. He was six feet two, towering over his mother, but Luciana didn't flinch. She had spent seventy years intimidating corporate boards and politicians; she did not fear her son.
Matteo threw the amber bottle of Tacrolimus onto the marble table between them. It bounced and spun, coming to rest against a crystal vase.
Luciana looked down at the bottle. Her expression didn't change. Not an eyelid flickered.
"Where is she, Mother?" Matteo demanded, his voice shaking with restrained violence.
"You look exhausted, darling," Luciana said softly. "You haven't been sleeping. I told you that triplex holds too many ghosts. You should have sold it when I told you to."
"Do not play games with me!" Matteo roared, the sound echoing through the cavernous foyer. "I saw the video. I saw you at the pharmacy six blocks from my home. I saw Elena standing next to you. *Elena is alive!*"
Luciana sighed. She set her book down, walked calmly to the sideboard, and poured herself a glass of sparkling water from a silver carafe.
"Elena was an unstable, fragile girl from an inconsequential family," Luciana said, her tone as matter-of-fact as if she were discussing an unreliable brand of dishwasher. "She was completely unfit to raise the heir to the Duca estate."
Matteo felt his mind fracture. "You faked her death? You stole a mother from her child? You let me bury an empty box?!"
"The box wasn't empty," Luciana replied with terrifying composure. "It contained forty kilograms of medical modeling clay and her personal effects. It gave you closure, Matteo. Or at least, it should have, if you weren't so obsessively weak."
"Why?" Matteo choked out, tears of pure rage finally spilling over his eyelids. "Why would you do this?"
"Because she tried to leave you!" Luciana hissed, her composure finally slipping, her face twisting into something venomous and ancient. "Two weeks after Leah was born, that ungrateful peasant went to a divorce attorney. She wanted half of your shares in Duca Pharmaceuticals. She wanted sole custody of Leah. She was going to take the Duca name, our bloodline, and drag it into public court to be picked apart by tabloids!"
"That's a lie," Matteo said. "Elena loved me. She loved our life."
"She hated this life! She hated our family! She was suffering from severe postpartum psychosis, Matteo. Dr. Vance diagnosed her. She was a danger to herself and to that baby. She threatened to take Leah to Europe where you would never see her again."
Luciana stepped closer, looking up into her son’s eyes with chilling conviction.
"I protected you. I protected this family. I had Dr. Vance induce a medically managed coma during her cardiac crisis. I signed the transfer papers. I had her moved to a private recovery wing where she could be managed, treated, and kept from destroying everything your grandfather built."
"Managed?" Matteo whispered, horror turning his limbs heavy. "You drugged her. You locked her away like an animal."
"She has an entire cottage to herself! She has round-the-clock nursing! She has every luxury money can buy!"
"And what about Leah?" Matteo took a step toward his mother, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Why was Elena in my penthouse four nights ago? Why did she have Leah in the Blue Room?!"
For the first time, Luciana’s face drained of color.
The icy matriarch froze, her hand hovering over the silver carafe. "What did you say?"
"She was in the penthouse, Mother. She used her old keycard. She took Leah into the Blue Room. She sang to her."
Luciana’s lips parted in genuine, unvarnished terror. "No... that's impossible. She’s heavily sedated. Vance increased her dose on Tuesday..."
She spun around, reaching for the antique landline telephone on the console table.
Matteo realized the truth in an instant: *Luciana hadn't authorized those midnight visits.*
Elena wasn't an obedient prisoner. She had been slipping her restraints. She had been risking everything, defying Luciana’s private guards, crossing sixty miles of highway in the dead of night just to hold her daughter for twenty minutes in the dark.
"Where is she?" Matteo screamed, ripping the telephone cord out of the wall. "Tell me where she is, or I swear to God I will burn this house to the ground with you inside it!"
Luciana stared at the severed telephone wire, her chest heaving. A cruel, defiant smile slowly returned to her lips.
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"You're too late, Matteo," she whispered. "Dr. Vance called an hour ago. He noticed the discrepancies in her blood work. He realized she was cheeking her medication. By now, she’s already on a private medical transport to our clinic in Zurich. You will never see her again."
***
