Page 87 of The Hidden Heir

“Luca,” Victor tries again, struggling to keep up with me.

“I’ve got this,” I tell him.

We walk past the reception desk. The nice lady in pale yellow sits up to greet me, but I know where to find Caroline. I know what she does when she comes to this place. Which room, which services.

“Excuse me, sir!” the receptionist calls out.

“I’m sorry, miss,” Victor tries to diffuse the situation. “We’re just here to speak to someone, that’s all.”

“But you can’t go in there without a…”

Her voice trails off somewhere behind me as I dive straight into a maze of dimly lit corridors with burnt orange walls and white doors, a variety of floral scents fill my nostrils. Victor’s footsteps echo behind me, louder and louder as he catches up. The anger in my chest becomes impossible to contain, and when I see the door at the end of the hallway, I lose my grip altogether.

I swing it open to find Caroline on her back on a treatment table. The cosmetic therapist gasps and pulls back, clutching a facial cleaning device with suddenly trembling hands.

“What are you doing in here?” she croaks.

Caroline sits up, wrapped in a white bathrobe. She looks terribly confused. “What the hell is going on?” She pauses upon recognizing me and blinks in shock. “Luca, what’s wrong?”

“Out,” I tell the therapist.

“Excuse me, you can’t just barge in here⁠—”

“Get the fuck out right now!” I bark, and she gets the message.

Caroline smiles apologetically and waits for her to leave the room, then throws her bare legs over the bed to turn and look at me.

“Did you know?” I ask Caroline.

“Know what?” she asks, her eyes wide with confusion.

Victor finally catches up. “For God’s sake, Luca.”

“Caroline,” I ask again, “did you know?”

“Know what?”

“He’s alive,” I say.

“Who? Luca, what are you talking about.”

“She didn’t know,” Victor whispers.

Or maybe she’s just that good at lying about it. I’m not sure of anything anymore. Either way, I’m like a dog with a bone now, and I just got a taste of a fleshier part. I need more.

“Stefano is alive,” I tell her. “That’s who’s staying in the Mayfair house, Caroline. My fucking brother.”

“Are you insane?” she manages, downright shaken to the core.

Victor steps between us, determined to be a voice of reason and clarity. I feel like the world’s biggest idiot. It’s not a sentiment I’m accustomed to. I’m always two steps ahead of everyone and everything.

Yet this thing with my brother has turned me upside down and inside out at the same time.

“I have no idea what to say to any of this. What do you mean Stefano is alive?” Caroline insists with her innocence.

And I’m somehow inclined to believe her.

“We had our suspicions after the ballroom massacre,” Victor explains. “Long story short, the crew who hit our operation and the charity event had inside information, the kind of information only a few people had, including Stefano.”