Chapter 7 - The Mark That Could Destroy Two Empires|
Amelia stared at Lorenzo.
"Identify me?"
He nodded slowly.
"That's what Isabella told Marco."
Amelia felt cold.
For two weeks, she'd believed the mark on her back was nothing but Victor's cruelty.
A permanent reminder that she'd been powerless.
Now someone was telling her it had another purpose.
She folded her arms.
"What does that mean?"
Lorenzo looked as confused as she felt.
"I don't know."
Then he took a breath.
"But we can ask Isabella."
Amelia hesitated.
"Is she safe?"
"Marco says she's receiving care and has spoken with an independent attorney."
She nodded.
"Then let's go."
Lorenzo studied her.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He didn't argue.
They traveled to New York that afternoon.
Amelia sat beside the window of the private aircraft while Lorenzo worked quietly across from her.
He didn't ask her to explain the wedding again.
Didn't try to hold her hand.
Didn't insist she sleep.
He simply offered her water and let her decide when she wanted to speak.
For the first time, Amelia began to recognize the man she had loved.
Not the feared syndicate leader.
The man who used to remember she hated coffee after four in the afternoon.
The man who brought her books from every city he visited.
The man who once spent an entire rainy Sunday helping her repaint an old kitchen cabinet.
She wanted him back.
But wanting wasn't enough.
Trust needed time.
When they reached the medical facility, Marco met them near the entrance.
He looked relieved.
"Boss."
Lorenzo nodded.
"Where is she?"
"Second floor."
Amelia looked at him.
"Isabella's all right?"
Marco hesitated.
"She's frightened. But physically stable."
They entered the building.
The corridors smelled of disinfectant.
A nurse guided them to a private room.
Inside, Isabella Bianchi sat beside a window.
She was twenty-seven.
Dark-haired.
Beautiful.
But she looked thinner than Amelia remembered.
When she saw Lorenzo, her face crumpled.
"Enzo."
He crossed the room.
For several seconds, he held his sister tightly.
Amelia looked away, giving them privacy.
Then Isabella reached for her.
"Amelia."
She stepped closer.
Isabella began crying.
"I'm so sorry."
Amelia sat beside her.
"For what?"
"For the wedding."
Amelia frowned.
Isabella swallowed.
"Victor contacted me before he threatened you."
Lorenzo went still.
"What?"
His sister nodded.
"He said he wanted to make sure Amelia understood the consequences of marrying you."
Amelia's heart tightened.
"Why?"
Isabella looked toward the door.
Then whispered:
"Because of your father."
Amelia froze.
"Gabriel Moretti?"
Isabella nodded.
"He owned a share of the original maritime trust."
"I know."
"But there was a provision involving descendants."
Lorenzo frowned.
"What provision?"
Isabella took a breath.
"The trust recognized certain heirs through family records and a physical identifying mark."
Amelia stared.
"What?"
Isabella looked at her shoulder.
"The crest."
Amelia went cold.
Lorenzo's expression hardened.
"That makes no sense."
Isabella nodded.
"I know."
Then she continued.
"Victor revived an old practice that had no legitimate place in modern law. He believed marking Amelia would help him control a claim to the trust."
Amelia felt sick.
"So he hurt me to make some kind of claim?"
Isabella's eyes filled.
"Yes."
Lorenzo looked away.
His hands trembled.
For a moment, Amelia thought he might lose control.
Then he took a slow breath.
He looked at her.
"Amelia, I'm sorry."
She swallowed.
The mark was not a symbol of belonging.
Not proof of ownership.
Just violence dressed up as tradition.
And she refused to let Victor define what it meant.
Isabella continued.
"Victor also wanted the marriage stopped because Lorenzo might have helped Amelia challenge the old agreements."
Lorenzo nodded slowly.
"That explains the threats."
Amelia looked at Isabella.
"But why hide you?"
Her expression changed.
"Because I found something."
Lorenzo leaned forward.
"What?"
"Records concerning your father's death."
The room went silent.
Antonio Bianchi.
The man who supposedly died six years earlier.
Lorenzo stared.
"What records?"
Isabella swallowed.
"A private medical report."
Amelia felt cold.
"And?"
Isabella looked at her brother.
Then whispered:
"Dad didn't die from the illness everyone was told about."
Lorenzo stopped breathing.
"What?"
His sister's eyes filled.
"He was poisoned."
Silence.
Lorenzo stared.
"Who?"
Isabella hesitated.
May you like
Then whispered:
"Victor Moretti."
