Chapter 8 - The Trial of the Heart
Not everyone was content to let the Duca family live in peace.
In early May, two weeks before the scheduled wedding, a legal challenge was filed in the High Court of Milan. It was launched by a coalition of distant Rossi relatives who claimed that the liquidation of Don Carmine Rossi's estate had been illegal and that Renata’s foundation was funded by "seized assets" that rightfully belonged to the Rossi heirs.
The lead attorney for the Rossi coalition was a ruthless, high-profile lawyer named Gianluigi Moretti—a man famous for destroying reputations and dragging high-society families through years of painful public trials.
On a rainy Tuesday afternoon, Lorenzo, Renata, and Sarah Lin sat in the executive conference room of Callaway Tower, reviewing the legal filings.
"Moretti doesn't have a legal leg to stand on, Lorenzo," Sarah Lin explained, sliding a stack of property deeds across the table. "Don Carmine signed over his personal assets to the state tax authority three days before his death to settle thirty years of back taxes. We bought those assets legally from the government at public auction."
"He doesn't care about the law, Sarah," Lorenzo said coldly, looking out the window at the rain falling over Milan. "He wants a public trial. He wants to drag Renata through the mud, print her old employment records in the tabloids, and call her a gold-digger who manipulated a mafia boss."
Renata sat quietly at the table, her fingers folded together tightly. "Let them print it, Lorenzo."
Lorenzo turned to look at her, surprised.
Renata raised her head, her brown eyes clear, calm, and entirely devoid of fear. "I was a maid. I washed floors. I lived in a cold room beside a boiler, and I cried when I couldn't buy my daughter a single slice of birthday cake. None of those things are sins, Lorenzo. They are my life. And I am not ashamed of a single second of it."
Lorenzo looked at her—this woman who had once quivered in terror before a head housekeeper, now standing tall against the most powerful legal team in Italy—and felt a wave of profound pride wash over his soul.
"Sarah," Lorenzo said, turning back to his attorney with a cold, triumphant smile.
May you like
"Yes, Lorenzo?"
"Call a press conference on the steps of the courthouse tomorrow morning," Lorenzo commanded. "We won't fight Moretti in a closed court. We will hand him every employment record, every bank statement, and every tax document he wants—live on national television."
