Chapter 10 - ISABELLA'S CONFESSION
-10-
Isabella Varric drove north for fifty-three minutes before Matteo found her.
She had not been difficult to locate because she eventually wanted to be found.
Her car sat outside an abandoned convent overlooking the Hudson.
A place Matteo remembered from childhood.
His mother had taken him there after his father’s violent rages.
Sisters had once operated an orphanage inside the stone building.
The orphanage closed twenty-five years ago.
Now Matteo understood why Isabella had chosen it.
Liana ran from the SUV before Dominic could fully stop.
“Nico!”
Her voice echoed against the stone walls.
A light appeared inside the chapel.
Matteo caught up.
“Liana.”
“She has my baby.”
“I know.”
“If she hurts him—”
“She won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
He looked at her.
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“I don’t.”
They entered together.
Isabella sat in the first pew.
Nico slept in her arms.
Liana immediately moved toward him.
Isabella did not resist.
“Take him.”
Liana gathered Nico against her body.
She kissed his hair again and again.
“You’re okay.”
She cried.
“You’re okay.”
Nico woke and touched her chin.
Matteo remained near the aisle.
His mother looked exhausted.
Older than she had three hours earlier.
“Why did you run?”
“To keep Marcello from using the baby.”
“For what?”
Isabella stared at the altar.
“Leverage.”
Matteo’s face hardened.
“You were Shepherd.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Seven years.”
Liana looked up.
Isabella continued.
“After Lorenzo died.”
“You ran the network?”
“I inherited it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Isabella’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Matteo went still.
“You stole children.”
“I stopped most transfers.”
“Most?”
“I could not shut everything down immediately.”
“Why not?”
“Because powerful men would have killed all of us.”
Matteo laughed bitterly.
“You always have a reason.”
Isabella looked at him.
“Do you want the truth or do you want someone simple enough to hate?”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“The truth.”
She nodded.
“When your father died, Marcello expected to become Shepherd.”
“But you took control.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I found the records.”
Her voice shook.
“I discovered what Lorenzo had done.”
Matteo’s face changed.
“You didn’t know?”
“Not until after his death.”
She looked toward Liana.
“I found photographs of women. Infants. Payments.”
Tears formed.
“I had lived beside him for thirty-three years.”
Matteo said nothing.
“I thought if I took control, I could dismantle it quietly.”
“Why quietly?”
“Because there were families with children who had no idea.”
Isabella swallowed.
“And because some members threatened to kill the children if the network was exposed.”
Liana stared.
“They threatened babies?”
“They had already murdered adults.”
Isabella continued.
“I blocked transfers. I redirected files. I created false closures.”
Matteo’s expression remained cold.
“And then?”
“Marcello discovered what I was doing.”
“How?”
“Your father had named him successor in a sealed document.”
Matteo understood.
“So he removed you.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He threatened you.”
Matteo stiffened.
Isabella looked at him.
“He sent me photographs of you asleep.”
Silence.
“You were twenty-five.”
Matteo remembered that year.
Three assassination attempts.
He had believed they were rival families.
“They were Marcello?”
“Yes.”
Isabella wiped one tear.
“I surrendered control.”
Matteo turned away.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have gone to war.”
“I am at war now.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
“And Elena is dead.”
The words silenced him.
Isabella reached into her coat.
Dominic immediately raised his weapon.
Matteo lifted a hand.
His mother removed a small key.
“Below this chapel is the original archive.”
Marcello’s archive.
Matteo stared at the key.
“You kept it here?”
“I moved it before he forced me out.”
“Then what does Marcello have?”
“A copy.”
Her expression changed.
“The archive below contains something Elena never found.”
Liana held Nico closer.
“What?”
“DNA.”
Matteo’s eyes sharpened.
“Whose?”
“Every child transferred through the network after 1999.”
Liana stopped breathing.
Isabella looked at her.
“And most biological mothers.”
The implications were enormous.
Thousands of reunions.
Thousands of crimes proven.
Matteo whispered, “Why keep that?”
“My husband believed lineage mattered.”
Isabella’s mouth twisted.
“He wanted proof of every transaction.”
Liana looked down at Nico.
“You can prove all of it.”
“Yes.”
“And you kept this secret?”
“I was afraid.”
Liana’s eyes filled with anger.
“You had twenty-two days while I believed my son was dead.”
Isabella flinched.
“You’re right.”
“No explanation?”
“No.”
Liana stared at her.
Isabella’s voice broke.
“There is no explanation that makes what happened to you acceptable.”
For the first time, Liana believed her.
Not forgave.
But believed.
Matteo took the key.
“Where is the archive?”
Isabella pointed toward the altar.
They found the staircase beneath a trapdoor.
The basement was larger than the chapel.
Metal cabinets lined the walls.
Boxes.
Hard drives.
Blood cards.
Hair samples.
Birth records.
Lives reduced to folders.
Liana stood frozen.
“Oh my God.”
Matteo looked at thousands of names.
His father’s legacy.
His family’s legacy.
The thing his money had unknowingly protected.
Dominic walked between shelves.
“This could destroy half the city.”
Matteo looked at him.
“Then let it.”
Isabella stared at her son.
Matteo turned toward Liana.
“This doesn’t belong to me.”
“What?”
“The truth.”
He looked at the records.
“It belongs to them.”
The mothers.
The children.
The families.
Liana’s eyes filled.
Then Dominic’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed immediately.
“What?”
Matteo asked.
Dominic put the call on speaker.
A man’s voice.
Marcello.
“Beautiful place, isn’t it?”
Everyone froze.
Marcello continued.
“Your mother always liked old churches.”
Matteo scanned the basement.
“How are you watching us?”
Marcello laughed.
“You still misunderstand your family.”
A red light appeared on one wall.
Then another.
Then another.
Liana stared.
Bomb indicators.
Matteo’s face went pale.
Marcello said, “Your father designed that archive to burn before it could ever be taken.”
Isabella screamed, “No.”
A countdown appeared on a small terminal.
TEN MINUTES.
Marcello’s voice became calm.
“You can save the evidence.”
Pause.
May you like
“Or you can save yourselves.”
Then the line went dead.
