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Chapter Sixty-Four
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2026-07-05 01:05:36The drive back to Las Vegas felt completely different than the drive out.
The desert stretched endlessly beyond the windows, golden beneath the afternoon sun, but New Zenith remained visible in the distance for far longer than I wanted, its beautiful skyline shimmering against the horizon like a promise that had already begun to crack.
Euphoria still stood.
The city still stood.
Luca's dream still stood.
Yet something fundamental had changed.
The illu
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Isabella confronted me before Luca could decide whether to protect me from the truth or let me stand inside it.She had arrived as Marisol Vega.That was the name she gave the lobby, the cameras, and the security team.But the file Brian had pulled in the frantic minutes after her arrival showed another name hidden under old school records, sealed estate notes, and a birth certificate no one had been meant to find easily.Isabella D’Caputo.Don’s daughter.She waited until Brian stepped away to secure the conference room and Luca turned to give a low instruction to one of his guards. Then she moved.Not toward him.Toward me.She crossed the marble lobby with the smooth confidence of a woman who had learned never to hurry in expensive shoes. Up close, she smelled faintly of jasmine and cold air, the kind of perfume that felt less like something pretty and more like a warning.“Miss Vale,” she said.Luca’s head turned immediately.Of course it did.Isabella noticed.Her mouth curved, b
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Don D’Caputo’s daughter arrived in New Zenith wearing white.That was the first thing I noticed.Not her face, though it was striking.Not the security detail behind her, though Brian’s expression sharpened the second he saw them.Not even Luca, who went so still beside me that the air seemed to recognize him before I did.White.A tailored white suit, sharp at the shoulders, soft at the waist, with gold buttons that caught the afternoon light pouring through the glass lobby of the medical campus. She looked like she had stepped out of a courtroom, a fashion editorial, and a crime family portrait all at once.Elegant.Composed.Untouchable.Nothing about her looked like Don D’Caputo.That made her more frightening.Don had carried danger like a stain. From what little I remembered of him, he had been the kind of man who made a room feel dirty simply by entering it.His
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Brian looked as though Luca had accused him of stealing the casino.Not money.Not documents.Not confidential security access.The casino itself.His posture, usually so composed it bordered on inhuman, went rigid beside the desk. The folder between us sat open to the property map, red parcel lines cutting through New Zenith like old scars.“Behind your back?” Brian repeated.Luca stood in the doorway, one hand still on the handle, his suit jacket unbuttoned and his expression carved into that terrifying calm he wore when every polite option inside him had already died.“Yes.”Brian blinked once.It was the closest I had ever seen him come to panic.“I was providing Miss Vale with relevant records.”“You were providing my fiancée with relevant records in a closed office while I was downstairs with police.”Brian’s mouth opened.
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Brian found me before Luca did.Which was impressive, considering Luca had been standing in the office doorway when I asked the question that had turned the whole room into glass.Who owns Halcyon Ridge Capital?Luca had not answered.Not really.He had looked at the screen, then at me, then at the redacted ownership file as if the blacked-out lines had personally offended him.Then his phone rang.Brian.There had been an emergency with the police liaison, or the contractor records, or one of the thousand fires that somehow did not involve actual flames but still required Luca Moretti to leave the room looking like he hated every second of it.Before he walked out, he had turned back to me.“We are not finished with this.”No.We absolutely were not.Twenty minutes later, I sat alone in the same office, staring at the closed laptop like it might confess if I glared hard enough.Then Brian knocked once and entered without waiting for permission.He was carrying a slim folder.That was
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I followed the money because I could not follow my own heart anymore.My heart was a disaster.It looked at Luca standing in the doorway of the arts center office, dark-eyed and worried and far too careful with me now, and wanted to hand him everything.The letter.The records.The fear.The ugly little seed of doubt that had taken root in my chest and started growing thorns.But my mind saw the dates on the screen.The changed ownership records.Don D’Caputo’s name buried beneath holding companies and land transfers and legal language that made everything sound clean when nothing about it felt clean at all.So when Luca asked what I was looking at, I did the worst possible thing.I lied again.“Donor lists,” I said.His eyes did not move from my face.I was beginning to understand that Luca’s silence had different temperatures. This one was cool. Not angry yet. Not suspicious enough to become dangerous.But close.“Donor lists,” he repeated.“Yes.”“For the children’s program?”My st
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