Chapter 9
Victor agreed to a second interview.
This time with counsel.
No girls.
No Emily? I chose to sit behind glass.
Dominic inside.
Detective.
Evelyn in separate room.
The question:
Did Victor kill Daniel Shaw?
Victor stared at the photograph.
“No.”
“Did you know Daniel killed Isabelle?”
Victor closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Dominic went completely still.
“When did you learn?”
“The next morning.”
“How?”
“Matteo told me.”
“Why didn’t you tell police?”
“Because Daniel had custody documents prepared.”
“For my daughters.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He threatened to take them if the network surfaced.”
Dominic laughed bitterly.
“Again.”
Victor looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“Did you kill Daniel?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Matteo.”
Silence.
Dominic’s face changed.
“Your brother killed him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Revenge.”
“For Isabelle.”
“Yes.”
There.
Matteo did not kill Isabelle.
He killed her killer.
Still murder.
Still crime.
“Proof?”
Victor nodded.
“Daniel confessed on audio.”
“Where?”
“Matteo has it.”
“Where is Matteo?”
Victor hesitated.
“Nearby.”
Dominic stood.
“Stop.”
Victor flinched.
“You have been telling me dead people are alive and living people are missing for fourteen months.”
“Yes.”
“Where is my brother?”
Victor looked at him.
“Under your house.”
Silence.
I almost laughed.
No one else did.
“What?”
“Old security bunker.”
Dominic stared.
“There is no bunker.”
“There is.”
“Since when?”
“Antonio.”
Of course.
“Matteo has been under my house?”
“Not continuously.”
“For how long now?”
“Three days.”
Silence.
Dominic looked ready to explode.
Victor continued:
“He came back when Emily found the card.”
“You knew she found it.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Garage camera.”
“You attacked her.”
“Yes.”
“Then told Matteo.”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“To stop.”
Silence.
I stared through glass.
Victor had hurt me against Matteo’s instruction.
Interesting.
“Why did you?”
Victor looked down.
“Panic.”
I hated that word.
Dominic did too.
“You nearly cut her hands to pieces over panic.”
“I know.”
“Not good enough.”
“No.”
Victor nodded.
“I know.”
Police secured estate bunker entrance.
Dominic insisted on going.
This time I stayed with girls.
Choice.
Not fear.
Sophie and Lucy wanted piano.
We played.
My fingers had stitches.
So I used left hand more.
Sophie sang.
Lucy hummed.
Then basement door opened somewhere below.
Twenty minutes later Dominic returned with a man.
Matteo Romano.
Forty-four.
Older version of Dominic.
Scar over brow.
Tired eyes.
Sophie froze.
Lucy climbed into my lap.
Matteo stopped at music-room doorway.
He did not approach.
Good.
Dominic stood beside him.
“My brother.”
Sophie whispered:
“You were with Mommy.”
Matteo’s face broke.
“Yes.”
“Did you hurt her?”
“No.”
“Did you save her?”
He looked down.
“No.”
Good answer.
Sophie started crying.
“Why?”
Matteo swallowed.
“I made bad choices.”
“Like Victor?”
“Yes.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Audio.”
Matteo handed over a small recorder.
Daniel Shaw’s voice.
Clear.
Recorded two days after Isabelle’s death.
“You were not supposed to follow her.”
Matteo:
“You shot her.”
Daniel:
“She was going to destroy everything.”
“What?”
“The guardianship trust.”
“She found the reversion clause.”
“What clause?”
“If girls speak publicly about the parking garage before age eight, trustees lose control.”
Silence.
That made no legal sense as stated. But perhaps trauma-trigger clause? Let's make it coherent: if guardian is implicated in harm, independent trustee replaces. Isabelle found Daniel's conflict. Daniel killed to keep successor rights.
Audio Daniel continued:
“She found my conflict.”
“She was going to remove me as trustee.”
“Evelyn too.”
“I couldn’t allow it.”
Matteo:
“So you killed her.”
Daniel:
“Yes.”
Silence.
Confession.
Sophie should not hear more.
Dominic stopped playback.
Police took recorder.
Evidence.
Then Matteo looked at Dominic.
“I killed him.”
No hiding.
“How?”
“Overdose.”
“Staged heart attack.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted him dead.”
No protection language.
No justice language.
Just revenge.
Dominic closed his eyes.
“You left my daughters without answers.”
“Yes.”
“You let Victor lie.”
“Yes.”
“You let Mom hide.”
“Yes.”
“I hate all of you.”
Matteo nodded.
“I know.”
Good.
Then police arrested Matteo.
He did not resist.
Before leaving, Sophie asked:
“Did Mommy know you loved her?”
Matteo froze.
Dominic looked at him.
What?
Matteo’s face changed.
“Not like that.”
Sophie waited.
He clarified.
“She was my sister-in-law.”
“I loved her because she was family.”
Good.
“She knew.”
Sophie nodded.
Enough.
Police took him.
Then Evelyn came to estate with detective.
She listened to Daniel’s confession.
Her husband.
She cried quietly.
No defense.
Then surrendered guardianship petition.
“Withdraw it.”
Attorney nodded.
Dominic stared.
“Why file in first place?”
Evelyn looked at Sophie and Lucy.
“They stopped speaking after Isabelle died.”
“Yes.”
“I thought if foundation trust moved, someone would come for them.”
“So you tried to control them.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid.”
There it was.
She cried.
“I am sorry.”
Dominic did not forgive.
But he did not shout.
Sophie looked at Evelyn.
“Are you bad?”
Evelyn froze.
Kids again.
“I did bad things.”
“Like Victor.”
“Yes.”
“Like Uncle Matteo.”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill Mommy?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Sophie looked away.
Question answered.
Then Lucy tugged my sleeve.
“Emily.”
“What?”
“Why did Mommy choose you?”
Silence.
I looked at Isabelle’s letter.
Maybe because piano.
Maybe because family.
Maybe because she remembered me.
I answered:
“She hoped I would help.”
“Did you?”
I looked at blood-stained piano keys now cleaned.
The girls singing.
The memory card.
Everything.
“I tried.”
Lucy nodded.
“Good.”
Then Marco entered.
Of course.
“What now?”
Dominic asked.
“One final account in Daniel Shaw’s trust.”
“Money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Forty-six million.”
“Source?”
“Romano Children’s Foundation.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
Stolen.
“Where?”
“Escrow.”
“Beneficiary?”
Marco looked toward me.
I stared.
“No.”
“Emily Foster.”
Silence.
“What?”
Evelyn went pale.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why is Emily beneficiary?”
Marco opened trust note.
IF ISABELLE DIES BEFORE REMOVING SHAW TRUSTEES, TRANSFER EMERGENCY CONTROL TO EMILY FOSTER UPON DISCOVERY OF DASH-CAM EVIDENCE.
I stopped breathing.
Isabelle had anticipated.
Not money to me.
Control.
Temporary emergency trustee.
Why?
Because I was outside Romano and Shaw.
Independent.
I looked at Dominic.
“No.”
He understood.
“You don’t have to.”
Good.
Marco continued:
“Clause expires if Emily declines.”
“To who?”
“Court-appointed independent trustee.”
Perfect.
I exhaled.
“Decline.”
Everyone stared.
“That easy?” Dominic asked.
“Yes.”
“Forty-six million in trust authority.”
“Not mine.”
I signed declination with independent attorney.
No family lawyer.
The control transferred to court-supervised charity trustee.
Good.
Isabelle had given me choice.
I used it.
Then Marco found an addendum.
One sentence in Isabelle’s handwriting:
Emily will know that helping my daughters does not require owning anything.
I cried.
Dominic looked away.
Sophie hugged me carefully.
Lucy too.
Then Sophie whispered:
“Can we sing tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Even if your hands hurt?”
I smiled.
“Maybe you play.”
Her eyes widened.
“I can’t.”
“You can learn.”
Dominic watched.
Something in his face changed.
For the first time, maybe he saw a future after evidence.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown.
He answered.
A woman’s voice.
Older.
“Dominic.”
He stopped breathing.
“Mom.”
Lucia Romano.
Alive.
She whispered:
“Do not let Matteo plead guilty yet.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Why?”
“Because Daniel did not act alone.”
Silence.
“Who else?”
Lucia answered:
“Isabelle’s sister.”
Everyone froze.
Dominic stared at me.
I stared back.
Isabelle’s sister.
When the independent trustee accepted control, a woman from the court asked if I wanted a ceremonial copy of the trust certificate. “No.” She blinked. “Most designated emergency trustees request one.” “I was emergency trustee for about six minutes.” “Still.” “No.”
Dominic almost smiled. Outside the courthouse, he asked: “Why not keep it?” “Because I don’t want proof that I almost owned responsibility I never asked for.” “You didn’t own it.” “Exactly.” He nodded. Then handed me something else. Isabelle’s letter. Original. “You should have this.” I stared. “It was in your family trust.” “It was addressed to you.” Fair. I took it. That was different. Paper could be burden or gift depending on who chose.
At the estate, Sophie had drawn a picture. Me at piano. Blood nowhere. Good. Lucy had drawn Victor behind bars. Less subtle. “Lucy,” I said. “What?” “Nothing.” Dominic looked at drawing. “That is quite a tie.” She had colored it bright red. Lucy smiled. “I remembered.” We all went quiet. Not fear. Memory.
Then Sophie started the blue song herself. Wrong note. Stopped. I waited. She tried again. No one corrected her. Third time, right. She smiled. That was progress too. Not dramatic. Just a child being allowed to make mistakes without adults turning them into evidence.
That evening, Gabriel’s daughter called on video from Connecticut and asked why all the adults looked tired. Nobody knew what to say. I answered: “Too much paperwork.” She accepted that immediately. Sophie leaned into frame. “My family has murder paperwork.” Dominic closed his eyes. “Sophie.” She shrugged. “It does.” Even Gabriel laughed from his hospital bed. The sound broke something open in the room. Not disrespect. Relief. We had spent days speaking as if every sentence needed to become testimony. For ten minutes, the children talked about school lunches, stickers, and whether purple was better than blue. Nobody mentioned trusts. Nobody lied. When the call ended, Dominic said, “I forgot conversations could be that useless.” I smiled. “That’s what makes them useful.”
May you like
My family.
And suddenly the murder case had one more person inside it.
