“I know.”
“Good.”
“I came to tell you something.”
She stopped.
Dante placed a folder on the bed.
“I transferred nothing.”
Lena frowned.
“The restitution fund.”
“I restored it.”
She stared at him.
“Don’t.”
“It belongs to your mother’s estate.”
“I don’t want your guilt money.”
“It isn’t mine.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.”
Dante stepped closer but stopped several feet away.
“My father used money to hide what he did.”
“I won’t use money to make you forgive it.”
Lena looked at him.
“Then why restore it?”
“Because stealing something for twenty-five years does not make it yours.”
That silenced her.
Dante continued.
“You can refuse it.”
“You can donate it.”
“You can burn every dollar for all I care.”
“But the choice should be yours.”
Lena looked at the folder.
For the first time, she saw something in Dante that surprised her.
Not power.
Shame.
And responsibility.
Those were different.
“Why didn’t my mother take it?”
Dante looked toward the window.
“Maybe she thought taking the money meant accepting the apology.”
Lena nodded.
“That sounds like her.”
Dante turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
“There’s one more thing.”
Lena waited.
“Isabella knew about the fund.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“She found the records months ago.”
Lena felt cold.
“Why?”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Because our marriage contract changes if I marry.”
Lena stared.
Dante explained.
A portion of the Moretti family trust would move into a marital trust after his wedding.
Isabella had spent months reviewing old estate records with her attorneys.
She discovered Sofia.
The ring.
The restitution account.
And something else.
Sofia had written one final letter to Antonio Moretti.
It was never sent to Lena.
Isabella found it.
Then hid it.
“Why?”
Lena whispered.
Dante looked at her.
“Because your mother named someone else who knew the truth about the fire.”
“Who?”
Dante answered:
“Isabella’s father.”
Victor DeLuca had built his banking fortune partly through Moretti money.
Twenty-six years earlier, he was not a billionaire banker.
He was Salvatore Moretti’s financial adviser.
And according to Sofia’s letter, he had known Salvatore planned to remove Antonio from the company.
Maybe not through murder.
But he knew something was being planned.
After the fire, Victor remained silent.
Then he helped Antonio restructure the family companies.
His career exploded.
Now his daughter was about to marry Dante.
Two fortunes.
Two secrets.
One marriage that would permanently bind them.
Isabella had found Sofia’s letter six months earlier.
If it became public, her father could face investigations.
At minimum, the DeLuca family reputation would collapse.
So she hid it.
When Lena appeared at the mansion wearing the name Russo, Isabella noticed immediately.
Then came the ring.
