Chapter 7 - ELIAS BELL
They found Lorenzo because he wanted to be found.
That was what Victor believed later.
At the time it felt like luck.
One letter in Unit 318 mentioned a church in Vermont.
Father Michael Anders.
Old friend.
Victor’s legal team contacted him.
The priest said nothing until Victor himself called.
“This is Victor Bellucci.”
Long silence.
Then:
“You sound like your father.”
Victor gripped the phone.
“Is he there?”
Another silence.
“He needs medical care.”
Victor stood.
“Where?”
“He made me promise—”
“My entire family appears addicted to promises that ruin my life.”
The priest almost laughed.
That helped.
Lorenzo Bellucci was in a private hospital outside Burlington under the name Elias Bell.
He had collapsed after leaving Maine.
Pneumonia.
Heart failure.
Stable.
Victor flew with Beatrice.
No armed convoy.
No spectacle.
Just family and two security men who stayed outside.
Victor entered the hospital room alone.
An old man slept beside the window.
Thin.
White hair.
Oxygen line.
Hands that looked like Victor’s hands thirty years in the future.
Victor stopped at the door.
Twenty-nine years of imagined reunions disappeared.
In most, Victor shouted.
Sometimes struck him.
Sometimes hugged him.
Reality offered none of those immediately.
Lorenzo opened his eyes.
Stared.
Then whispered:
“You got old.”
Victor almost laughed.
“You first.”
Lorenzo smiled.
Then began crying.
Victor did not know what to do with that.
So he stood.
Finally Lorenzo said:
“I’m sorry.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“Too early.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“Fair.”
Victor pulled a chair over.
Sat.
“Marina found you.”
“Yes.”
“She stole something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Lorenzo looked toward the door.
“Bea?”
“Outside.”
“She okay?”
“Bruised.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
Victor’s anger sharpened.
“She pushed her down stairs.”
Lorenzo whispered something unprintable.
Victor almost smiled.
Then:
“What did Marina take?”
“A black ledger.”
“We have a ledger.”
“Different.”
Of course.
“Explain.”
Lorenzo breathed slowly.
“The one I gave Bea documented Arturo’s betrayals.”
“And the black one?”
“Documented mine.”
Victor stared.
“What did you do?”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“I became an informant.”
Silence.
There it was.
In Victor’s world, that word had once meant death.
Traitor.
Rat.
Unforgivable.
Victor felt old instincts rise.
Then he looked at the dying man in front of him.
“Why?”
“Because Arturo had started killing civilians.”
Victor said nothing.
“Families.”
Lorenzo’s voice broke.
“One bombing hit the wrong apartment.”
Victor knew the story.
Three dead.
Officially rival violence.
Lorenzo continued.
“I helped build the machinery that made it possible.”
He looked away.
“I wanted out.”
“So you went to federal agents.”
“Yes.”
“Did you give them me?”
“No.”
Immediate.
“Beatrice?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo’s eyes hardened.
“Men who were murdering people.”
Victor breathed.
Not simple.
Nothing was.
“What was in the black ledger?”
“My contacts.”
“Payments?”
“Meetings.”
“Evidence?”
“Enough to prove I cooperated.”
Victor understood Marina’s leverage.
If she released it to old Bellucci associates, Lorenzo’s name would be destroyed.
Victor’s authority could fracture among men who still worshipped old codes.
More importantly, anyone who helped Lorenzo might become targets.
“Why did Marina want it?”
“Her father is in it.”
Victor frowned.
“Arturo cooperated too?”
Lorenzo laughed weakly.
“No.”
“He tried to sell the same information to both federal agents and criminals.”
Victor stared.
“Playing both sides.”
“Yes.”
“The ledger proves it.”
“Yes.”
“So it hurts Marina.”
“It hurts everyone.”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“Your organization too.”
Victor did not flinch.
He knew what his life was.
Lorenzo continued.
“Marina wants to control when it comes out.”
“Blackmail.”
“Insurance.”
Same thing with better tailoring.
Victor leaned back.
“Why did you disappear again?”
“Because she said if I went to Victor, Beatrice dies first.”
Victor’s hands tightened.
Lorenzo smiled faintly.
“You have my temper.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“She had people watching me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she take the ledger herself?”
“Yes.”
“Did she threaten you?”
“Yes.”
“Police?”
Lorenzo looked embarrassed.
Victor laughed bitterly.
“You spent twenty-nine years hiding from criminals and still don’t know when to call police?”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“Runs in family.”
Victor laughed.
Then cried.
Quietly.
He hated that.
Lorenzo reached toward him.
Stopped before touching.
Victor saw.
Twenty-nine years of permission missing.
Victor took his father’s hand.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But contact.
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
Then whispered:
“There’s something else about Marina.”
Victor waited.
“She doesn’t want the ledger only for her father.”
“What else?”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“She’s been moving money out of Legacy Holdings.”
Victor went still.
“How?”
“She has someone inside.”
Another betrayal.
Another door.
May you like
The question was no longer whether Marina planned to seize Victor’s empire after marriage.
She had already begun.
