Chapter 13 - The Widow
Catherine DeLuca had raised Matteo.
She was the woman he called Mother.
And she was very much alive.
Matteo reached Teresa’s home minutes before I did.
Catherine sat beside the fireplace.
Seventy-eight.
Elegant.
Thin.
Eyes like knives.
Matteo stood across from her.
“You died.”
She smiled.
“Apparently poorly.”
He almost laughed.
Then stopped himself.
“Why?”
“Because Anthony tried to kill me.”
Of course.
Catherine discovered his fertility scheme.
Helena’s embryos.
Teresa.
Everything.
She confronted him after learning Matteo wasn’t biologically hers.
Anthony expected jealousy.
Instead, Catherine protected Matteo fiercely.
“He was my son before I knew whose blood he carried.”
Matteo looked down.
She continued:
“Anthony believed blood mattered more.”
So he arranged her “illness.”
She escaped with Teresa’s help.
Fake death.
New identity.
Europe.
Why return now?
“Because Anthony’s arrest created a vacancy.”
We stiffened.
“What vacancy?”
Control of criminal partners tied to the old network.
Without Anthony, different factions were already fighting.
Catherine had spent years building an alternative structure.
Not criminal, she insisted.
Legal assets.
Independent trustees.
But she needed Lucia’s original amendment.
Teresa gave it to her.
Why?
“To finish what Lucia started.”
I didn’t trust anyone anymore.
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
That was new.
“I want you to leave.”
“Leave what?”
“Chicago.”
She offered protection.
Money.
A house anywhere.
No signatures.
No trust.
No control.
For one dangerous second, it sounded perfect.
Then Matteo asked:
“What happens if Elena leaves?”
Catherine looked at him.
“You take over.”
There it was.
The catch.
She wanted Matteo to inherit the legitimate network after the charitable transfer completed.
Why?
Because he had run DeLuca operations for twenty years.
Stable.
Capable.
Feared.
She believed he could prevent collapse.
Matteo refused.
“I’m done.”
Catherine looked disappointed.
“You don’t get to be done with inheritance.”
“I do.”
That almost made me smile.
Then she looked at me.
“What about you?”
“I’m a school counselor.”
She blinked.
“You manage children in crisis.”
“Yes.”
“You may be better qualified than most executives I know.”
“I’m not running a dynasty.”
“Good.”
Then Catherine smiled.
“Destroy it.”
That surprised everyone.
She didn’t want succession.
She wanted dismantling.
The legitimate businesses could become employee-owned corporations.
The trust to charity.
Illegal operations turned over to prosecutors.
Properties sold.
Clean ending.
“Why didn’t you do this years ago?”
“Because Anthony controlled the evidence needed to protect innocent employees from prosecution.”
Now Daniel Cho’s drive solved that.
We had the map.
For the first time, escape was possible without burning thousands of people around us.
Then Catherine looked at my stomach.
“One more thing.”
Of course.
She had accessed fertility records.
The embryo Helena implanted—
was not the embryo she ordered.
Dr. Cole switched it.
I stared.
“What?”
Cole had quietly sabotaged Helena.
Why?
Guilt.
She knew what Helena planned.
So she substituted another embryo from storage.
Whose?
Catherine handed me the file.
Donor mother:
Unknown.
Donor father:
Unknown.
Original labels destroyed.
The baby might not be related to any DeLuca or Serrano at all.
A completely anonymous embryo.
My hands shook.
“So all of this…”
Anthony thought the baby was his genetic heir.
Helena too.
They had built their final plan around a child who might have no biological connection to them.
I laughed.
Then cried.
Then laughed again.
Matteo sat beside me.
“What are you thinking?”
I touched my stomach.
“That maybe this baby is the first person in this family nobody owns.”
Catherine smiled.
“Yes.”
For once, a secret felt like freedom.
Then Lucia’s phone rang.
Unknown caller.
She answered.
A woman said:
“Dr. Cole is dead.”
We froze.
Cole was in protective custody.
Impossible.
Then the caller continued:
“And the embryo records she gave you are fake.”
My relief vanished.
“Who is this?”
The woman answered:
“Nora Serrano.”
But Nora was under federal protection across town.
Then another voice came through.
Real Nora.
Crying.
“Don’t listen to her.”
Two Noras?
No.
One recording.
One live.
Someone was using old audio.
Then the first woman laughed.
“I told Helena years ago she should never trust recordings.”
Catherine went pale.
She recognized the voice.
“Who?”
Her answer came quietly.
“Dr. Cole’s daughter.”
I stared.
“She has a daughter?”
Catherine nodded.
May you like
“And she’s the embryologist who performed Elena’s transfer.”
The one person who actually knew whose child I was carrying.
