Chapter 5 - Giovanni’s Ledger
Mrs. Gable wasn’t arrested.
Not immediately.
Lorenzo wanted answers first.
Lots of them.
By noon, every employee had been separated and interviewed.
Cameras were reviewed.
Payroll records were pulled.
Care schedules were examined.
And the picture became uglier by the hour.
I sat beside Giovanni in the library while a doctor examined him.
Dr. Alexander Price had arrived by helicopter when the roads became impassable.
After nearly an hour, he looked at Lorenzo.
“Your father’s cognitive awareness appears remarkably intact.”
Lorenzo stared at him.
“For five years?”
“Possibly.”
Lorenzo’s expression darkened.
“And nobody knew?”
Dr. Price hesitated.
“Someone should have tested more thoroughly.”
I glanced at Giovanni.
His eyes stayed on his son.
Lorenzo lowered his voice.
“I stopped trying.”
Giovanni’s fingers moved.
Lorenzo looked down.
His father was reaching toward him.
Lorenzo took his hand.
“I thought you were gone.”
Giovanni squeezed weakly.
The room went silent.
Then Giovanni looked toward me.
I understood.
“You want the board?”
One blink.
Earlier, the doctor had brought a communication board containing letters.
I placed it in front of him.
Lorenzo watched.
Giovanni moved one finger slowly across the surface.
His control was poor.
But we waited.
L.
E.
D.
G.
E.
R.
I frowned.
“Ledger?”
One blink.
Lorenzo straightened.
“What ledger?”
Giovanni looked toward the ceiling.
“Upstairs?”
One blink.
“Your room?”
Two.
“Study?”
One blink.
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.
“My old study?”
One blink.
The old Moretti study had been locked since Giovanni’s stroke.
Lorenzo ordered the door opened.
Inside, dust covered shelves nobody had touched in years.
Giovanni directed us from his wheelchair.
Left cabinet.
Bottom drawer.
False panel.
Behind it was a leather ledger.
Lorenzo opened it.
The first pages contained business notes from years earlier.
Then he reached a section filled with handwritten names.
Giovanni had recorded everything before his stroke.
Doctors.
Attorneys.
Household staff.
People he trusted.
People he didn’t.
Lorenzo turned another page.
Mrs. Gable’s name appeared.
Beside it:
Margaret Gable — temporary household management only. No authority over medical care or personal accounts.
Lorenzo frowned.
“She told me Father appointed her permanently.”
His adviser, Marco, looked over his shoulder.
“There’s more.”
Documents showed that after Giovanni’s stroke, Mrs. Gable had gradually taken control of household spending.
Medical care budgets had been reduced.
Food allocations had been cut.
Private nursing expenses still appeared on accounting reports—
but no private nurse had worked at the estate in more than two years.
Lorenzo’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“Where did the money go?”
Marco continued reading.
“We’re tracing it.”
A knock came.
Two security men entered.
“We found jewelry and cash in Mrs. Gable’s apartment above the garage.”
“How much?”
“Approximately eighty thousand dollars in cash.”
Mrs. Gable was brought into the study ten minutes later.
Her face was pale.
Lorenzo held up the ledger.
“Recognize this?”
She stared.
“No.”
Giovanni made a low sound.
Everyone looked at him.
Mrs. Gable’s hands began trembling.
Lorenzo stepped closer.
“You told me my father required round-the-clock nursing.”
“He did.”
“Where were the nurses?”
“They came during—”
“No.”
She stopped.
“I checked records.”
Lorenzo placed paperwork on the desk.
“You billed this household more than four hundred thousand dollars for medical care that never happened.”
Mrs. Gable shook her head.
“That’s accounting.”
“And eighty thousand dollars appeared in your apartment.”
“I can explain.”
“I’m listening.”
She looked around.
Nobody helped her.
Then she pointed at Giovanni.
“He didn’t know!”
The room went still.
Mrs. Gable realized too late what she had said.
Lorenzo’s eyes changed.
“He didn’t know what?”
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Giovanni stared directly at her.
I had never seen so much fury in a man who could barely move.
Mrs. Gable began crying.
“I didn’t think he understood.”
Lorenzo stepped toward her.
“So because you believed my father couldn’t complain, you neglected him?”
“No.”
“You stole from him?”
“No!”
“You let employees abuse him?”
“I never told anyone to—”
“You left him freezing in a bedroom.”
Her voice rose.
“He was already gone!”
Giovanni struck the armrest with his palm.
The sound was weak.
But everyone heard it.
I stepped beside him.
Mrs. Gable looked at me.
“This is because of her!”
Lorenzo turned.
“What?”
“She poisoned him against me.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“He couldn’t even tell me his real name.”
Mrs. Gable pointed at me.
“She wants money!”
I froze.
“That’s enough,” Lorenzo said.
“No! Look at her! Pregnant. Abandoned. Broke. Suddenly she discovers Giovanni Moretti is alive inside and becomes his little angel?”
My face burned.
She knew exactly where to hurt me.
Lorenzo looked at me.
For one awful second, I wondered if he believed her.
Then Giovanni moved.
His hand reached toward the ledger.
Lorenzo gave it to him.
Giovanni struggled to turn several pages.
Finally he stopped.
A blank page.
He pointed at the pen.
“You want to write?” I asked.
One blink.
I placed the pen between his fingers.
His hand shook violently.
Slowly, painfully, he made four uneven letters.
L.
I.
L.
Y.
My breath caught.
Mrs. Gable stared.
Giovanni tapped the word.
Then pointed at my stomach.
Lorenzo looked at me.
“Lily?”
“My daughter.”
Giovanni nodded.
Then he forced the pen back onto the paper.
This time, he wrote one more word.
SAFE.
Tears filled my eyes.
I shook my head.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
Giovanni stared firmly at me.
He tapped the word again.
Safe.
Lorenzo looked between us.
Then he finally understood.
This wasn’t a servant trying to earn money from a wealthy old man.
Giovanni had been listening to me for weeks.
He knew about Brody.
The debt.
The baby.
My fear of losing my apartment.
And now he was trying to tell his son something.
Lorenzo closed the ledger.
“Marco.”
“Yes?”
“Make sure Emma and her child never have to worry about housing again.”
I immediately stood.
“No.”
Lorenzo looked surprised.
“I didn’t ask for money.”
“I know.”
“I took care of him because he needed someone.”
“I know that too.”
“Then please don’t turn it into payment.”
Giovanni made an irritated sound.
Lorenzo almost smiled.
“I believe my father disagrees.”
I looked at Giovanni.
“You’re impossible.”
One blink.
For the first time, Lorenzo actually laughed.
It lasted only a second.
But it changed the room.
Then Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression quickly darkened.
“Lorenzo.”
“What?”
“We found something else.”
“What?”
Marco looked at me.
Then at Giovanni.
May you like
“Mrs. Gable wasn’t working alone.”
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