Chapter 5 - UNCLE VICTOR COMES HOMEVictor DeLuca arrived at noon in a silver Bentley.
He stepped out wearing an expensive charcoal coat and the kind of smile that made Emma dislike him before he said a word.
“Adrian.”
The brothers embraced.
Neither appeared happy about it.
Victor was younger by four years, slimmer, polished, and charming in a way Adrian never attempted to be.
Then Victor saw the triplets.
“My monsters.”
Nico and Matteo ran toward him.
Luca didn’t.
Emma noticed.
Victor handed the boys three beautifully wrapped boxes.
“Contraband from Milan.”
“What is it?” Matteo asked.
“Open them when your father isn’t watching.”
Adrian’s face remained blank.
Victor looked at Emma.
“And this must be number seven.”
“Emma Hayes.”
He kissed the air beside her cheek.
“You’re prettier than the others.”
“She’s also standing right here,” Emma said.
Victor smiled wider.
“Oh. I like this one.”
“I’m devastated.”
Luca covered a laugh.
Victor glanced at him.
Something passed between uncle and nephew that Emma couldn’t read.
Lunch was formal.
Victor talked constantly.
Investments.
Europe.
Political contacts.
Old family stories.
Adrian said very little.
Emma sat with the boys because Matteo insisted.
Halfway through the meal Victor raised his glass.
“To Emma.”
She looked up.
“Any woman who survives these three deserves recognition.”
Nico grinned.
Victor continued.
“Although perhaps avoid driving them anywhere. Women around this family have terrible luck in cars.”
The fork in Adrian’s hand stopped.
Luca went white.
Emma felt sick.
“Victor.”
Adrian’s voice could have frozen water.
Victor lifted both hands.
“Bad joke.”
Luca stood.
His chair fell backward.
He ran.
Emma followed.
She found him inside the old piano room.
He was breathing too quickly.
“Luca.”
“Go away.”
She remained by the door.
“He did it on purpose.”
Emma didn’t lie.
“Yes.”
“He always does that.”
“What?”
“Says things about Mom.”
Emma’s anger sharpened.
“Why?”
Luca’s eyes flashed.
“Because Dad hates it.”
Emma sat on the floor.
After a moment Luca joined her.
“I remember the accident.”
“I know.”
“Matteo told you?”
“He told me you remember more.”
Luca wrapped his arms around his knees.
“Mom was yelling.”
Emma waited.
“She wasn’t yelling at us. She was on the phone.”
“With who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she say?”
His eyes squeezed shut.
“She said, ‘You stay away from my boys.’”
Emma’s heart pounded.
“Anything else?”
Luca shook his head.
“Then the truck came.”
“Did she say a name?”
Silence.
“Luca?”
His eyes opened.
“I don’t remember.”
Emma knew he was lying.
But she did not push.
When she returned downstairs, Victor was alone in the corridor.
“How is our little general?”
“Don’t joke about their mother again.”
His smile remained.
“I don’t recall requesting advice.”
“I’m not advising.”
Something colder entered his gaze.
“You’ve become confident quickly.”
“I was confident before I met you.”
Victor stepped closer.
“Do you know why the others left?”
“Because the boys terrorized them.”
“Some.”
Emma waited.
“One discovered that employment in this family involves… complications.”
“Is that a threat?”
“An observation.”
“Good.”
She smiled.
“Here’s mine. Men who imply threats in hallways usually want women to be afraid without giving them anything concrete enough to repeat.”
His smile disappeared.
“So unless you have something specific to say, move.”
Victor stared.
Then laughed softly and stepped aside.
“Oh, Adrian is going to regret hiring you.”
Emma walked past.
That evening she told Adrian what Luca had remembered.
He listened without interrupting.
“My sons were interviewed after the crash.”
“He was three.”
“The investigator said none remembered anything useful.”
“Children remember strange pieces.”
Adrian looked toward the fire.
“Isabella had become increasingly anxious before she died.”
“About Victor?”
“She never said.”
“Did you ask?”
“I was working eighteen-hour days.”
Regret filled the silence.
“I assumed she was overwhelmed.”
Emma didn’t comfort him with lies.
“You missed something.”
His jaw clenched.
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t mean you caused what happened.”
He looked at her.
She knew from experience that grief turned hindsight into a weapon.
Daniel had called Emma an hour before his crash.
She had missed it because she was bathing Sophie.
For months afterward she asked herself whether answering could have changed his route, delayed him, saved him.
There was no end to that road.
“Guilt is greedy,” Emma said quietly. “It takes whatever you give it.”
Adrian studied her.
“You speak from experience.”
“Yes.”
Before he could respond, an alarm sounded.
Not the main security system.
Fire.
Emma ran.
Smoke filled the east corridor.
“The boys!”
Adrian was already moving.
They reached the bedrooms.
Empty.
Emma’s stomach dropped.
“Luca!”
A crash came from upstairs.
“The attic,” Adrian said.
Smoke thickened near the stairwell.
A guard appeared.
“Sir, fire department is en route.”
“My sons are upstairs.”
“You can’t—”
Adrian ignored him.
Emma followed.
He turned.
“No.”
“I’m coming.”
“You’re not.”
“Waste another ten seconds arguing.”
They climbed.
The attic door was locked.
Adrian kicked it.
Once.
Twice.
Wood split.
Inside, smoke curled across storage boxes.
Nico and Matteo huddled by the far wall.
“Dad!”
Adrian reached them.
“Where’s Luca?”
Nico coughed.
“He went to get the box.”
“What box?”
“Mom’s.”
Emma saw movement through the smoke.
Luca emerged carrying a small wooden chest.
Then a burning beam crashed between them.
“Luca!”
The boy froze.
Emma moved before Adrian could.
She grabbed a heavy wool blanket from a storage trunk, threw it over her shoulders and crossed around the burning debris.
Heat scorched her face.
“Emma!”
“I’ve got him!”
She reached Luca.
“Drop the box.”
“No!”
“Luca!”
“It’s Mom’s!”
Emma understood instantly.
She took the box with one hand and Luca with the other.
They crouched under the blanket.
When they emerged, Adrian seized his son.
Firefighters reached the attic moments later.
Outside, all three boys sat wrapped in blankets.
Adrian stood nearby speaking with security.
Emma examined the wooden box.
“Luca, why were you in the attic?”
He glanced at his father.
Then Victor, who had appeared on the lawn.
Luca’s face changed.
“I wanted this.”
He opened the chest.
Photographs.
Letters.
A silk scarf.
A diary.
And a small black phone.
Adrian stared.
“Isabella’s phone.”
Victor stopped walking.
Only for a fraction of a second.
Emma saw it.
So did Adrian.
The phone had been hidden five years.
“Why would Mom hide a phone?” Matteo asked.
Nobody answered.
Adrian picked it up.
Victor recovered quickly.
“Battery’s probably destroyed.”
“Maybe.”
Adrian handed it to Rafael.
“Get everything from it.”
Victor smiled.
“Surely we’re not reopening old wounds because an eight-year-old found a phone.”
Adrian looked at him.
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“We’re reopening them because someone set fire to the room where it was hidden.”
Victor’s smile vanished.
The triplets stared between the adults.
Then Luca spoke.
“I remember the name.”
Adrian turned.
Luca’s eyes were fixed on Victor.
“In the car.”
Victor went still.
“Mom was on the phone.”
Luca’s voice shook.
“She said…”
Emma took his hand.
He squeezed hard.
Then he finished.
“‘Victor, you stay away from my boys.’”
Nobody moved.
May you like
Victor stared at his nephew.
And for the first time since arriving, the charming mask slipped completely.
Related Stories
