Chapter 6: Loretta's Last Move
The call from Loretta came the following morning.
Valentino was in the kitchen when his phone lit up.
Isolde was at the table behind him, eating toast, her brace secured carefully on her leg.
He looked at the screen, then at his daughter.
"Finish your breakfast," he said.
"I'll be right back."
He stepped into the hallway and answered.
"You've been busy," Loretta said.
No greeting.
"Good morning, Mama."
"Don't.
I know about Dario Mancini.
I know he came to you." Her voice was sharp and controlled.
"Whatever he told you, he's a bitter old man who spent thirty years resenting Renato.
He was dismissed for cause.
Nothing he says is credible."
"He has a notarized confession."
A pause.
Brief.
"Notarized by whom?
Renato was not of sound mind in his final months.
I can produce three doctors who will confirm that."
"Can you." It wasn't a question.
"Valentino, listen to me carefully.
I am your mother.
I have spent forty years protecting this family's name, this family's money, and your future.
Everything I did — everything — was to keep what your father built from being dismantled by a woman who was never loyal to you."
"Elena was loyal to me."
"Elena was consulting with a lawyer behind your back—"
"To protect Isolde's inheritance from a clause you were planning to use against her." His voice stayed level.
"I know about the clause, Mama.
I have the document."
Silence.
Longer this time.
"Where did you get that."
"It doesn't matter."
"It was Claudia." The temperature in Loretta's voice dropped ten degrees.
"She gave it to you.
After everything I—" She stopped herself.
When she spoke again, the control was back.
"All right.
Let me be direct.
You have a document.
I have lawyers who have been with this family for twenty-five years.
You have a dead man's letter.
I have relationships with every judge in this district who knew your father personally." A pause.
"You are not going to win this in a courtroom, Valentino.
I am offering you a way out.
Drop this.
Let me come home.
We say nothing more about any of it.
And Isolde keeps everything that is already in her name."
"You're offering me what already belongs to my daughter."
"I'm offering you peace."
"You forged letters about my wife," he said.
"You used them to make me doubt her for six years.
You used them this week to try to destabilize me in front of my child." His voice was still quiet.
It was the quietness that had weight.
"And you're offering me peace."
"Valentino—"
"My lawyer's name is Gianluca Ferri.
You'll be hearing from him by end of day." He paused.
"Don't contact Claudia."
He ended the call.
He stood in the hallway for a moment.
Through the kitchen doorway he could see Isolde's small hand reaching for her glass of juice.
She picked it up carefully, with both hands, the way she always did.
He went back in and sat down across from her.
"Was that Grandma?" she asked.
"Yes."
Isolde looked at her toast.
"Is she coming back?"
Valentino looked at his daughter.
At the brace on her leg.
At the bedroom down the hall that had her drawings taped to the door.
"No, sweetheart," he said.
"She's not."
Isolde was quiet for a moment.
Then: "Daddy, why did she take my brace off?"
He had been waiting for this question.
He had not been ready for it.
"Because she made a mistake," he said.
"A big one."
"Did she know it was a mistake when she did it?"
He looked at his six-year-old daughter.
"Yes," he said.
"I think she did."
Isolde nodded slowly, with the gravity of a child processing something too large for her age.
"Okay," she said.
And picked up her toast.
His phone buzzed on the table.
A message from Gianluca.
*She's already called my office.
Her lawyers are threatening to contest the deed.
They're claiming it was signed under duress.*
Valentino typed back: *File everything we have.
Today.*
Gianluca's reply came in under a minute.
*Already started.
But Valentino — she's also filed a petition.
Emergency guardianship review.
She's claiming Isolde is being raised in an unstable environment.*
The kitchen was warm.
Isolde was humming something to herself.
Valentino read the message twice.
May you like
Then he set the phone face-down on the table and looked at his daughter.
Loretta wasn't finished.
