Chapter 5 - The House of Lies
To understand the absolute, volcanic rage burning inside Richard Bellacorte, one had to understand the lie he had been fed for the last twelve months.
Exactly one year ago, Mark’s first wife, Elena—a woman Richard loved like his own daughter—had died in a tragic, fiery car crash on a winding mountain road. Immediately after the funeral, Claudia had moved into the estate.
Mark had told his father that Noah was suffering from severe, violent psychological trauma from losing his mother. He claimed the toddler was a danger to himself and needed to be kept in a specialized, isolated wing of the estate with private nurses. He explicitly banned Richard from visiting, claiming the presence of the patriarch triggered the boy’s "violent episodes."
Richard had respected his son's wishes, wiring millions of dollars to pay for the boy's supposedly elite medical care.
But looking at the filthy, starving, barefoot child sitting in front of the fire, Richard realized there were no private nurses. There was no elite medical care.
"Noah," Richard asked quietly, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. "Where is your bedroom at home?"
"In the dark room by the roof," Noah answered softly, rubbing his cold eyes. "It's cold. The pretty lady locks the door so I don't ruin her parties. I only eat when the cook sneaks me bread."
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Richard stopped breathing. They had locked his only grandson in an unheated attic like a feral animal while spending the syndicate's millions on luxury clothes and jewelry.
👉 Richard was ready to execute his son on the spot, but the wooden airplane on the rug held a secret that was even worse.
