“A Don Doesn’t Date Fat Girls,” She Spat. He Locked The Door “Watch Me Make You My Wife”
Chapter 7
They searched the old Moretti house that evening.
Bianca hadn’t been there since the funeral.
The place smelled of dust and furniture polish.
Her father’s study remained almost untouched.
Matteo’s security team searched every room.
Bianca opened drawers.
Old letters.
Tax records.
Photographs.
Nothing.
Then she remembered something.
“My father had a strange habit.”
“What?”
“He hid sentimental things in ugly places.”
Matteo raised an eyebrow.
“That doesn’t sound sentimental.”
“He once hid my birthday gift inside a broken vacuum cleaner.”
Matteo smiled.
“Interesting.”
They searched the basement.
Behind the old furnace was a rusted metal cabinet.
Inside sat a wooden box.
Bianca opened it.
A single red key lay inside.
Her heart stopped.
“This?”
Matteo took it carefully.
There was a number engraved on the metal.
“Four-one-seven,” Bianca whispered.
“Hotel room?”
“Maybe.”
They drove to one of her father’s old hotels.
Room 417 had been closed for years.
The red key opened a small wall safe.
Inside was a ledger.
A USB drive.
And a photograph.
Bianca stared at the photograph.
Her father.
Matteo.
And a third man.
She didn’t know him.
Matteo did.
His expression changed immediately.
“Who is that?”
“Luca De Luca.”
“Your brother?”
“My uncle.”
Bianca stared.
“Your uncle?”
“Yes.”
“He knew my father.”
“They were business partners.”
“Then he might know about the twenty-two million.”
“Maybe.”
She opened the ledger.
Pages of numbers.
Payments.
Transfers.
Names.
Then one account number appeared repeatedly.
She recognized the last four digits.
Her own mother’s birthday.
Bianca frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
Matteo looked over her shoulder.
“What?”
“This account belongs to my mother.”
“Your mother is alive?”
“No.”
“She died when you were ten.”
Bianca nodded.
“Then who opened it?”
Matteo’s face became cold.
“We find out.”
They took the documents back to the residence.
An hour later, Matteo’s accountant found something.
“The account wasn’t opened by her.”
“Who opened it?” Bianca asked.
The accountant hesitated.
“Your father.”
Bianca’s expression fell.
“Then why use her name?”
“Because it was a trust account.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
The twenty-two million dollars had been placed there six years before her father’s death.
Bianca felt tears fill her eyes.
“He was protecting me.”
Matteo nodded.
“Probably.”
The accountant continued.
“But there is a problem.”
“What?”
“The trust was accessed last week.”
Bianca looked at Matteo.
“By whom?”
A name appeared on the screen.
Bianca froze.
Luca De Luca.
Matteo’s uncle.
He had taken money from the account.
And he had done it using a legal authorization.
Matteo stood.
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
Bianca looked at him.
“That was before I met you.”
“Yes.”
“Then they were already looking for me.”
Matteo nodded.
“And that means someone knew the trust existed.”
Bianca closed her eyes.
“Who else?”
Matteo’s face was grim.
“One person.”
“Who?”
“My uncle.”
The room went silent.
Then Matteo’s phone rang.
The caller was Luca.
Matteo answered.
His uncle’s voice came through.
“You’re getting close.”
Matteo’s expression hardened.
“Close to what?”
“To the reason your father wanted Bianca protected.”
He paused.
Then said:
“She isn’t the heir you think she is.”
