Pelosi and Generosa remained the focus of scrutiny and suspicion -- and soon they gave everyone even more to talk about. The couple got married in January 2002, just three months after Ammon was murdered.
In the spring of 2002, Generosa moved with her two kids to Danny's hometown, Center Moriches. It was a nice town, but hardly a millionaire's playground.
"Generosa moved to CM for the one reason that she wanted her kids to have a family," says Pelosi. "She wanted me to be around my kids. They live four minutes from here."
Joanne Matheson, Generosa's full-time housekeeper, says her boss was happy with her new life: "As long as she was with Danny she didn't care. If she was in East Hampton or over there, it didn't matter to her. She was happy."
But just months after they were married, Generosa, 46, learned she was dying from breast cancer. Matheson says the couple spent the next year trying to enjoy most of the time they had left.
Meanwhile, Generosa and Pelosi were emerging as the prime suspects in Ammon's murder -- and their marriage started falling apart under pressure from the investigation and Generosa's illness.
"I know that she said she loved him," says Dowd. "But she couldn't live with him."
In July 2003, after nearly two years of marriage, Generosa left Pelosi and moved with her two children back to the East Hampton mansion – where she would spend the last weeks of her life.
"She was really sick when she moved out of here," says Pelosi. "A lot I can't talk about, about that, someday it will be heard.
But Generosa would make several deathbed decisions that would haunt her survivors for years to come.
In the summer of 2003, while she lay dying of breast cancer, Generosa had to decide who she wanted to care for her twins, Greg and Alexa. But she didn't have a lot of options.
"She became very isolated. She was a very private woman to start with," says defense attorney Michael Dowd.
Pelosi, her estranged husband, was out of the picture and out of the question, according to Dowd: "A lot of it had to with the money. And his excesses with her money."
Pelosi loved to gamble and Dowd says Generosa wasn't willing to take a chance on him raising her children. But when Ted Ammon's sister offered to raise the twins, Generosa couldn't see past her own feelings towards her murdered husband.
"You and I probably -- might call it hate. Would call it hate," says Generosa's lawyer, Ed Meyer.
That left her own friends and family, but she had little of either. Generosa was an orphan, born and raised in California. Her mother died of cancer when she was 10. Her father was an Italian sailor she had never met. Generosa was passed from one relative to another, never really settling down. By 14, she was running out of places to live.
"She was family. And she needed help. And she needed someone to care. And we cared," says Fran Thomas, a distant relative with teenage girls of her own. She took Generosa into her modest home outside of Los Angeles.
But Generosa was a lot of trouble, and she was nearly kicked out of school and Fran's house. "I said, 'I want to know whether you really want to make this your home. If you do, we have to make some changes. If not, the phone is right there and we will find a foster home and you can move tomorrow," Thomas told Generosa, who changed for the better, graduated from high school and never looked back.
She lost touch with almost everyone – and for those she didn't write off, she later blew off, says cousin Al Legaye: "The one thing about Generosa, she had mood swings. I mean, she could be up or down, just like that."
By the end of her life, Generosa trusted very few people. And she was living in isolation with her two children in the East Hampton mansion where Ammon was murdered.
"She would just say, I don't have any family. There's nobody really around," recalls her housekeeper, Joanne Matheson, who spent time with Generosa during the last weeks of her life.
When it came time to name her children's guardian, Generosa chose one of the few people left in her life: Kay Mayne, 57, who was taking care of her and her kids.
"She just felt like Kay didn't have any obligations," says Matheson. "To anybody else, she wasn't married or anything. So she just figured it would be the easiest choice for her."
Mayne was the Ammon's housekeeper when they were living in England in 1999. Two years later, when Generosa was sick with cancer and needed some extra help with her medications and her children, she asked Mayne to move to America.
When Greg and Alexa learned that Mayne was going to be their full-time guardian, they were upset because they say they barely knew her.
"The children have represented to me and to others just how unhappy they are," says Eddie Burke, Pelosi's lawyer and family friend. "No one is putting words in their mouth. No one is telling them what to say or to do."
Pelosi spoke to Generosa about how the kids felt about Kay, and he recorded the conversation -- a habit he had started to protect himself legally.
Generosa said: "Well, Danny, you seem to forget, I'm still alive. These are my children. I make the decisions about my children. They've lost their father. Now, they're losing their mother. I'm not gonna allow them kids to be raised like you were. I'm not. ... Danny, you and I differ on how to raise children. I'm not raising my children the way you raised your children."
Matheson remembers the kids trying to take matters into their own hands: "They would try to go to Danny for help. They would go to other family members. To see if they could maybe live with them. It was just horrible."
Generosa died of breast cancer in August 2003. When she died, her decision became legally binding: Mayne would get custody of the kids, use of the East Hampton mansion for life and $1 million.
"Kay has isolated everyone in the kids' lives out," says Pelosi. "Doesn't make sense to me."
"That was a choice made by their mother, to entrust their care to a person who had been her employee, but became a friend and trusted by her," says Dowd.
Alexa Ammon, now 13, is living with Mayne in their East Hampton mansion – where her mother died, and her father was murdered.
48 Hours caught up with Alexa, who wanted to speak with us while she was traveling on a bus to visit friends.
"Everybody that I've talked to, they've all been like, 'I can't believe you're living there, after your Dad was killed in that house.' And I'm like, well, I agree, but I don't have a choice in it, or I don't have a say in anything anymore. So, it's pretty creepy, at night especially," says Alexa.
Following Generosa's wishes, Alexa's twin brother, Gregory, was sent to boarding school in New Hampshire. "The separation was a plan that their mother had before she died," adds Dowd.
48 Hours spoke with Greg by telephone about Mayne. "She has the worst attitude to kids. You can't say one nice thing to her or she'll just snap right back at you," says Greg. "She's not good with kids. She doesn't understand any of them. She's not a nice woman."
"I don't like to be split up from my brother, because he is my twin," adds Alexa. "And Kay always tells me that, ' Oh, well, you guys should be split up. My kids were split up at 13.' And I was like, 'Yeah, but it's different. It's like right after my Mom died, and it's just not the right time.'" And she's like, 'Well, when is the right time?'"
Mayne wouldn't talk with 48 Hours, but Alexa and Greg both say that, if they had their way, they'd choose to live with Pelosi –- the man many believe is the main suspect in their own father's murder.
"I would like to live with Danny," says Alexa. "But I know that's not possible."
"My dream would be to live with Danny," adds Greg.
But not even Danny thinks that's possible, since he might be going on trial for murder.