Chapter 6 - Christmas NightThe twenty-minute drive to my parents’ estate took thirteen.
I did not bring Renata.
Rebecca forbade me from entering the house until officers arrived.
For once, I listened.
From the road, the mansion looked exactly as it always had at Christmas: warm lights in every window, wreaths on the doors, a glowing tree visible through the glass.
Beautiful houses can hide ugly things.
Police vehicles approached without sirens.
Rebecca arrived minutes later.
“What do we know?”
“Bianca says Carlo is inside with my parents.”
“Any staff?”
“Two housekeepers. Maybe the chef.”
She spoke to the tactical commander.
I called Bianca.
She answered on the first ring but said nothing.
“Bianca?”
“I’m upstairs.”
Her whisper trembled.
“Where’s Carlo?”
“Library.”
“Mom and Dad?”
“With him.”
“Can you leave?”
“He locked the front doors.”
“There are other exits.”
“He has someone outside.”
So Carlo hadn’t come alone.
“What does he want?”
“The documents.”
“He won’t get them.”
“Mauricio, he’s furious.”
“Stay upstairs.”
Then I heard a male voice in the background.
Bianca gasped.
The call ended.
I moved toward the gate.
Rebecca grabbed my arm.
“Absolutely not.”
“My sister—”
“Is precisely why you don’t charge in there.”
A negotiator called the house.
No answer.
Then Carlo called me.
“Come inside.”
“No.”
“Your sister is with me now.”
My jaw tightened.
“You hurt her, and the documents go to every newspaper in the country.”
“That would be inconvenient.”
“For you.”
“For Renata too.”
“You keep saying her name.”
“Because she is the problem.”
“No. You are.”
Carlo laughed softly.
“You sound like Isabella.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Then his tone changed.
“Bring me the box.”
“The evidence has already been copied.”
“You’re lying.”
“It’s with federal prosecutors.”
That part was true.
“The video too?”
“Yes.”
For the first time, he lost composure.
“You stupid son of a—”
“You’re finished, Carlo.”
“No. Families like ours survive scandals.”
“Maybe.”
“Do you really want Renata growing up under cameras? Reporters following her to school? People calling her the hundred-million-dollar orphan?”
That hit harder than I wanted it to.
Carlo heard my silence.
“Exactly.”
“You think I’ll protect her by hiding what you did?”
“I think you’ll protect her by walking away from the claim.”
“It’s hers.”
“She doesn’t know that.”
“And that makes stealing it okay?”
“You think she needs a hundred million dollars?”
“No child does.”
“Then sign it away.”
“No.”
“You care more about principles than her peace.”
“I care about teaching her that monsters don’t get rewarded because confronting them is inconvenient.”
He went quiet.
Then said, “Come inside.”
The call ended.
Rebecca had heard everything through the speaker.
“He practically admitted motive.”
“Not enough?”
“Enough to continue building the case.”
A crash sounded from inside.
Then the front door opened.
Bianca ran out barefoot.
An officer pulled her behind cover.
Seconds later my father appeared.
Blood ran from his mouth.
Mom followed.
Carlo came behind her, gripping her arm.
A handgun pressed against her side.
“Carlo!” I shouted.
He dragged Mom onto the steps.
Police raised weapons.
Mom looked at me.
Her face was strangely calm.
Carlo shouted, “Tell them to lower their guns!”
The negotiator responded.
“Carlo, nobody needs to get hurt.”
“You already ruined everything!”
Mom suddenly laughed.
Not loudly.
But enough to make Carlo look at her.
“You ruined it thirty-six years ago,” she said.
“Shut up.”
“No.”
It was the first time I had ever heard my mother speak to him without fear.
“You told me Isabella would only be questioned.”
“Victoria.”
“You told me Elena would come home.”
“Stop.”
“You told me nobody would ever know.”
His grip tightened.
Mom winced.
“I believed you because believing you meant I didn’t have to admit what I’d done.”
“Mauricio!” Carlo yelled. “Get the documents!”
“They’re gone.”
“Then make the prosecutor withdraw.”
“That isn’t how prosecution works.”
His hand shook.
Mom looked toward me.
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t answer.
She wasn’t asking for forgiveness.
Not yet.
She turned her face toward Carlo.
“You spent thirty-six years making me afraid.”
“Victoria.”
“I’m tired.”
Then she stomped hard on his foot and twisted.
The gun fired.
The shot shattered a window.
Police surged forward.
Carlo fell beneath three officers.
Mom collapsed on the steps.
I ran.
“Mom!”
“I’m fine.”
“Were you hit?”
“No.”
She began laughing and crying simultaneously.
Dad sat beside her.
Bianca clung to both of them.
For several seconds, despite everything, they looked like a family again.
A broken one.
Police dragged Carlo upright.
He looked at me.
“This isn’t over.”
I walked toward him.
“No.”
His expression darkened.
I continued.
“You still have to sit in court while everyone hears exactly what you did.”
They put him into a cruiser.
Rebecca approached.
“He’ll lawyer up immediately.”
“Can you charge him?”
“For tonight? Weapons offenses, unlawful restraint, intimidation. More will follow if the financial evidence checks out.”
“It will.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
I looked at Mom.
“No chance.”
An ambulance examined my father and mother.
Neither required hospitalization.
Before leaving, Mom approached me.
“Can I see Renata?”
“No.”
Pain moved across her face.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to cry your way back into her life.”
“I know.”
“You humiliated her.”
“I know.”
“You told her she wasn’t family when you knew what your own actions had done to her grandmother and mother.”
Mom’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
She looked at me for a long time.
Then:
“I hated that child because every time I looked at her, I saw Isabella.”
“That’s not Renata’s burden.”
“No.”
“She trusted you.”
“I know.”
I glared at her.
Mom corrected herself.
“She trusted me, and I used that trust to punish someone who died before Renata was born.”
That was closer.
“She deserves an apology.”
“Yes.”
“But you will not give it until she wants to hear it.”
Mom nodded.
“And you will not tell her she has to forgive you.”
Another nod.
“And if she never wants to see you again?”
Mom’s voice cracked.
“Then I live with that.”
For the first time, I believed she understood a fraction of the damage.
When I returned home, it was nearly midnight.
Renata was awake.
Of course she was.
She sat on the floor beside the Christmas tree Rosa had decorated weeks earlier.
Only a few presents rested beneath it because I had planned to spend Christmas at my parents’ house.
Renata looked worried.
“Was Grandma hurt?”
“No.”
“Are you mad at her?”
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
I sat beside her.
“I don’t know.”
She played with her necklace.
“Grandma was mean to me.”
“Yes.”
“But sometimes mean people can become nice.”
“Sometimes.”
“Will she?”
“That depends on Grandma.”
Renata leaned against me.
Then she noticed the clock.
“It’s almost not Christmas anymore.”
I looked at the unopened presents.
“You’re right.”
Her eyes widened as I slid one toward her.
“For me?”
“All of them.”
She opened the first.
A telescope.
She had asked for one months earlier because she wanted to see Saturn’s rings.
Her face lit up.
For twenty minutes there were no lawyers.
No trusts.
No lies.
Just paper tearing, laughter, hot chocolate, and a little girl wearing moon-shaped jewelry.
Then she opened a small envelope I had prepared before any of this began.
Inside was a certificate.
RENATA DELUCA — OFFICIAL JUNIOR BOARD MEMBER, DELUCA CHILDREN’S FOUNDATION.
She looked confused.
“What do I do?”
“You tell us what kids need.”
“I’m a kid.”
“Exactly.”
She thought seriously.
“They need presents.”
“Sometimes.”
“And people who listen.”
I smiled.
“Definitely.”
“And nobody should have to wash everybody’s plates while other kids get presents.”
Rosa turned away to hide tears.
I hugged Renata.
“That sounds like our first rule.”
Renata held out her little hand.
“Deal?”
I shook it.
“Deal.”
At 12:03, after she finally fell asleep, Rebecca called.
“We searched Carlo’s Manhattan apartment.”
“And?”
“We found original adoption records.”
I stood.
“Elena’s?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“A ledger showing payments to the agency that placed her.”
“That proves it?”
“It proves a lot.”
Rebecca paused.
“But there’s another name in the ledger.”
“Whose?”
“Your mother’s.”
My stomach dropped.
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars.”
“What for?”
“We don’t know.”
I looked toward Renata’s bedroom.
May you like
Mom had confessed to helping Carlo.
But perhaps she still hadn’t told me everything.
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