Chapter 4
Grant’s lie spread faster than truth could stand up.
By midnight, every news channel in Chicago had my name in its mouth.
Silvio Romano under scrutiny.
Romano family tragedy questioned.
Children hospitalized after estate dispute.
Grant Vale appears to accuse billionaire guardian.
I sat between Ethan and Mia’s hospital beds while reporters crowded outside the building.
Mia had finally fallen asleep with her fist wrapped around my sleeve.
Ethan woke twice asking if the car was still locked.
Each time, I told him no.
Each time, he asked again.
Fear does not believe the first answer.
Sometimes not the tenth.
Evelyn worked from the corner, laptop open, phone pressed to her ear.
Mercer moved in and out of the room with updates.
Grant had vanished in a black sedan registered to a shell company.
Vince, my security supervisor, was in custody.
Lucinda was under guard in the cardiac wing, where doctors had found no heart attack.
Just performance.
Expensive performance.
Mia stirred.
“Uncle Silvio?”
I leaned close.
“I’m here.”
“Are you mad?”
“At Grant and Lucinda.”
“At me?”
The question gutted me.
“No.”
“Because I said I was hungry.”
I closed my eyes.
A child should never think hunger is a crime.
“You are allowed to be hungry.”
Her lower lip trembled.
“Lucinda said rich children don’t beg.”
“You are allowed to ask for food, water, hugs, help, anything you need.”
Her eyes filled.
“Even if you’re working?”
“Especially then.”
She nodded like she wanted to memorize it.
Ethan whispered from the next bed, “Can I ask too?”
I turned to him.
“Always.”
He held up one weak finger.
“Can I have pancakes?”
For the first time since the SUV, I laughed.
It broke halfway.
“Yes. As soon as the doctor says.”
He nodded and closed his eyes.
“Chocolate ones.”
“Chocolate ones.”
Mercer returned at dawn.
His face told me he had found something.
I stepped into the hallway.
“What?”
“We found Grant’s safe at his downtown office.”
“And?”
“Passports. Cash. Burner phones. And a draft petition claiming you abused the children and were mentally unfit after Matteo’s death.”
Evelyn stiffened.
“He planned custody?”
“Not custody,” Mercer said. “Removal. If Silvio was disqualified and the children were declared unsafe in his care, Lucinda could petition as next family guardian.”
“And the trust?”
“Would reopen under court control.”
My jaw tightened.
“He needed me ruined.”
“Yes.”
“And the children?”
Mercer’s face hardened.
“Based on the SUV incident and messages we recovered, it appears Grant preferred a more permanent outcome.”
Evelyn looked away.
I stared through the hospital room glass at Mia sleeping.
A small bruise marked her wrist.
My sister’s handprint.
Grant’s words returned.
They’re still alive?
I had heard threats before.
From rivals.
From criminals.
From men who smiled before pulling knives.
But nothing had ever chilled me like a grown man disappointed that children survived.
Lucinda requested to see me at nine.
Evelyn said no.
Mercer said maybe.
I said yes.
We met in a guarded hospital consultation room.
Lucinda wore a hospital gown under a cashmere robe someone had delivered.
Even now, she needed softness around her cruelty.
She looked smaller without makeup.
For one second, I remembered her at twelve, crying after Matteo beat her at cards and then gave her the prize because he hated seeing her sad.
That memory hurt.
Then I remembered the key spinning around her finger.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“You look free. That surprises me.”
Her eyes flashed.
“I didn’t know Grant would leave.”
“Did you know he would lock the children in the SUV?”
She looked down.
“They weren’t supposed to be there long.”
My breath stopped.
“So yes.”
“They were screaming. Staff were starting to notice. Grant said they needed to learn control.”
“Control?”
“They manipulate you, Silvio.”
“They are children.”
“They are heirs,” she snapped.
There it was again.
I leaned back.
“You hated them because Matteo loved them.”
Her face crumpled.
“I hated them because even dead, Matteo still wins.”
I stared at her.
“What did he win?”
“Father’s pride. Your loyalty. The estate. The bloodline. Everything.”
“Our father left you millions.”
“He left me an allowance with velvet around it.”
“You had a board seat.”
“With you above me.”
“You wanted the children’s trust.”
“I wanted what should have been mine.”
“What about Matteo’s boat?”
Her face went blank.
Too blank.
“Lucinda.”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“Grant did.”
“I said I had nothing to do with it.”
“Did you know?”
Her silence was answer enough.
I stood.
She reached for my arm.
“Silvio, wait.”
I looked at her hand until she dropped it.
Her voice cracked.
“Grant told me it was only pressure. He said Matteo would sell his shares to cover a private debt. He said the boat issue would scare him.”
I felt the room tilt.
“And when Matteo died?”
She covered her mouth.
“I didn’t know he’d done it until after.”
“You stayed with him.”
“He said if I talked, I’d go down too.”
“You should have.”
Her eyes filled.
“I was afraid.”
“Mia was afraid in that car.”
She flinched.
“Ethan was afraid in the dark rooms.”
She began crying.
Not pretty tears.
Real ones.
Too late.
“I didn’t want them dead,” she whispered.
“But you accepted it as an option.”
She folded forward, sobbing.
I felt no comfort in it.
Only exhaustion.
When I returned to the children’s room, Mia was awake.
She looked at my face.
“Did Lucinda say sorry?”
“She cried.”
“That’s not sorry.”
No, I thought.
No, it was not.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Grant’s voice came through before I spoke.
“You should have taken my offer years ago.”
I turned away from the children.
“What offer?”
“The one Matteo refused.”
My heartbeat slowed.
Mercer stepped closer, signaling to keep him talking.
Grant laughed softly.
“You still don’t know, do you? Matteo didn’t die because of the trust.”
May you like
“Then why?”
“Because he found out Ethan was not his son.”
