Chapter 6 - Uncle Vittorio
Vittorio arrived the morning after Christmas wearing a camel-colored coat and the expression of a man attending brunch.
He had no idea we knew.
That gave me an advantage.
I let him believe Christmas was merely uncomfortable.
He kissed my mother’s cheek.
Shook my father’s hand.
Then crouched to Renata.
“There’s my little princess.”
Renata stepped behind me.
Vittorio noticed.
“Shy today?”
“No,” I said.
“Just learning who she can trust.”
His eyes met mine.
For half a second, something passed between us.
Then he smiled.
“Wise lesson.”
We sat for breakfast.
My mother barely spoke.
Paola had returned after spending the night at a hotel. Her husband and daughters remained elsewhere.
My father looked twenty years older.
Vittorio seemed delighted.
“So,” he said, buttering toast, “did everyone enjoy Christmas?”
I almost admired him.
Almost.
I placed a photograph of Anthony Caruso on the table.
Vittorio’s knife stopped.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But I saw it.
“Know him?”
He studied the photograph.
“Should I?”
“Anthony Caruso.”
“Name sounds familiar.”
“He used to work for Mom’s relatives.”
Vittorio shrugged.
“That describes half of Brooklyn.”
I placed a second photograph down.
Caruso entering my townhouse.
Then a bank record.
Then Belladonna Capital.
Vittorio stopped pretending.
He leaned back.
“What exactly are you accusing me of?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Smart.”
“But I’m asking why your company paid him six hundred thousand dollars.”
My mother turned toward Vittorio.
“You hired him?”
Vittorio looked irritated.
“Carmen, please.”
That response told her enough.
“You used me.”
He sighed.
“You hardly needed encouragement to dislike the girl.”
My hands tightened beneath the table.
My father stood.
“Get out.”
Vittorio smiled.
“Sit down, Sal.”
“Get out of my house.”
“You might want to hear the rest first.”
He looked at me.
“You think this is about money?”
“Usually is.”
“Not this time.”
I laughed quietly.
“Everyone keeps saying that before discussing hundreds of millions of dollars.”
Vittorio leaned forward.
“Your grandfather made a mistake.”
“Which one?”
“Trusting you.”
My father moved toward him.
I raised a hand.
“Let him talk.”
Vittorio smiled.
“You always were the smarter brother.”
I ignored it.
He continued.
“Your grandfather built the DeLuca empire with my father. Then he structured the company so our branch received less voting power.”
“Because your father sold most of his interests.”
“Under pressure.”
“According to you.”
“According to history.”
I understood.
Old resentment.
The cheapest fuel in wealthy families.
“So you decided to use Renata.”
“I decided to correct an imbalance.”
“How?”
“Gabriel’s line carries special voting rights.”
I knew that.
But Nathaniel had said nothing about Vittorio benefiting.
Vittorio saw my confusion.
“There’s a proxy clause.”
My father went pale.
“What clause?”
Vittorio smiled.
“Exactly.”
He removed a folded copy of a trust document.
“If Gabriel’s biological child inherits before reaching twenty-five, a designated family trustee exercises voting authority.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who’s designated?”
Vittorio tapped the paper.
“The senior surviving male descendant of Lorenzo DeLuca’s second son.”
My grandfather Lorenzo’s second son had been Vittorio’s father.
Which made Vittorio the trustee.
If Renata inherited through Gabriel before age twenty-five, Vittorio could control her votes.
Sixty-one percent.
He wouldn’t own the company.
He would control it.
“That’s why you wanted Gabriel’s paternity acknowledgment.”
“Correct.”
“And why you wanted my adoption challenged.”
“Also correct.”
My mother stared at him.
“You told Paola the adoption threatened Sofia and Emma.”
“It did.”
“You used her.”
“I gave her information. She made her own decisions.”
Paola looked sick.
Vittorio continued calmly.
“If Mauricio’s adoption remains valid as the first activated claim, Renata’s assets fall into a protected independent trust.”
I understood now.
The legal order mattered.
As my adopted daughter, Renata’s controlling stake would be protected by independent trustees.
As Gabriel’s minor biological daughter, an archaic proxy clause could hand Vittorio voting control.
The entire operation had been designed to destroy one legal pathway and activate the other.
I stood.
“You photographed my child. Broke into my home. Manipulated my sister. Exploited my mother’s prejudice.”
Vittorio shrugged.
“I didn’t create Carmen’s prejudice.”
For once, my mother looked genuinely wounded.
He wasn’t wrong.
That made it worse.
“You’re done,” I said.
Vittorio laughed.
“You can’t remove me from the company.”
“I can try.”
“You don’t have the votes.”
“Neither do you.”
“Not yet.”
His eyes moved toward Renata.
My chair scraped backward.
My father immediately stepped between us.
Vittorio raised both hands.
“Relax. I would never hurt the child.”
“You already did.”
“I mean physically.”
I looked at Renata.
She was sitting beside the housekeeper eating pancakes, thankfully too far away to understand.
I lowered my voice.
“If you ever use her name in another scheme, I’ll make every legitimate legal move available to ensure you never enter one of my companies again.”
Vittorio smiled.
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“The Mauricio everyone whispers about.”
“No.”
I looked directly at him.
“The man they whisper about would have handled this differently.”
I pulled out my phone.
“The father calls federal investigators.”
Vittorio’s smile disappeared.
That afternoon, Belladonna Capital’s records were subpoenaed.
But Vittorio had prepared for that.
Most of the money flowed through intermediaries.
Proving financial crimes would take time.
Meanwhile, the family trust dispute moved quickly.
Nathaniel requested an emergency court order confirming Renata’s status and suspending all proxy powers.
Vittorio challenged it.
For the first time in generations, DeLuca family secrets were heading toward a public courtroom.
My mother begged me to settle privately.
“No.”
“For Renata’s sake.”
I laughed.
“You stopped getting to use her sake as an excuse.”
Paola tried another strategy.
“What about Sofia and Emma? They’re innocent.”
That stopped me.
She was right.
Her daughters were innocent.
I refused to punish children for their mother’s choices.
“Sofia and Emma keep everything legally theirs.”
Paola looked surprised.
“I’m not coming after your children.”
Her eyes filled.
“You could.”
“Yes.”
“Why won’t you?”
I looked toward Renata.
“Because someone has to stop teaching this family that children are weapons.”
That evening, I received an unexpected visitor.
An elderly woman named Rosa Alvarez.
She had been my grandfather’s personal secretary for twenty-three years.
She carried a locked document case.
“I heard the trust was being challenged,” she said.
“It is.”
“Then Lorenzo was right.”
“About what?”
“That Vittorio would eventually try this.”
She placed the case on my desk.
“Your grandfather prepared for him.”
My pulse quickened.
Rosa opened the case.
Inside was a recorded deposition.
My grandfather’s.
And attached to it was a sealed amendment no one—not Vittorio, not my parents, not even Nathaniel—had ever seen.
Rosa looked at Renata playing quietly across the room.
“Your grandfather didn’t leave the future of this family to blood, Mr. DeLuca.”
May you like
She slid the amendment toward me.
“He left it to character.”
