Chapter 2 - The Account That Shouldn't Exist
"Claire, get down."
Gabriel's voice cut through the darkness before I understood what was happening.
A hand grabbed my shoulder.
I reacted without thinking.
I twisted, drove my elbow backward, and heard a man grunt.
"Easy!" Luca hissed. "It's me."
"Then stop grabbing people in the dark!"
A sharp metallic sound came from across the study.
A gun being drawn.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
The voice that had whispered my name was gone.
"Nobody moves," Gabriel ordered.
The room became silent.
Then emergency lights flickered on near the floor.
Dim red illumination crawled across the walls.
Gabriel was exactly where he'd been.
Marco stood near the doorway with a pistol in his hand.
Luca was beside me.
Dr. Mercer had backed against the desk.
The study door was open.
The hallway beyond it was empty.
Gabriel looked at me.
"Who said your name?"
"I don't know."
"You didn't recognize the voice?"
"No."
Marco stepped into the hallway.
"Stay here."
Gabriel's expression hardened.
"Nobody leaves."
Marco stopped.
"Whoever opened that door—"
"May want you to chase him."
Marco looked back.
Gabriel pointed toward the door.
"Close it."
Marco obeyed.
Luca locked it again.
I tried to slow my breathing.
This morning I'd been worried about whether Gabriel Moretti would like me.
Now I was standing in a locked study with armed men, poisoned medication, a mysterious bank account, and someone wandering around the mansion who apparently knew my name.
I looked at Gabriel.
"How would anyone here know who I am?"
"You were hired."
"Yesterday."
"That's enough."
"For who?"
Gabriel didn't answer.
Dr. Mercer suddenly opened her medical case.
"Gabriel, I need to check your blood."
Marco turned toward her.
"Why?"
"Because if those capsules were altered, we don't know whether he already took one."
Gabriel looked at me.
"You agree?"
It surprised me that he asked.
"Yes."
"Do it."
Dr. Mercer removed a blood collection kit.
I watched carefully.
So did Marco.
She noticed.
"If you're going to point that weapon at me, Marco, at least keep your finger away from the trigger."
Marco lowered the pistol slightly.
"Tell us about 417."
Dr. Mercer tied a band around Gabriel's arm.
"I'll tell you what I know."
"That's a lawyer's answer," Gabriel said.
"It's a doctor's answer from someone who would like to remain alive."
She inserted the needle.
Gabriel didn't flinch.
"Start talking."
Dr. Mercer filled two small tubes.
"Your father contacted me three weeks before the explosion."
Gabriel's face changed.
"My father?"
"Yes."
"You never told me that."
"He ordered me not to."
"My father has been dead eighteen months."
"I know."
"So you've had eighteen months to reconsider."
Dr. Mercer removed the needle.
"Vittorio believed someone was stealing from the family."
Marco's eyes narrowed.
"How much?"
"I don't know."
"Then why involve a doctor?"
Dr. Mercer labeled the tubes.
"Because he didn't trust anyone else."
Gabriel gave a cold laugh.
"He trusted his physician with financial crimes?"
"He trusted me with something else."
"What?"
"His blood."
Silence.
I stared at her.
Gabriel's expression became unreadable.
"Explain."
Dr. Mercer looked toward me.
I immediately disliked that.
"Claire shouldn't hear this."
Gabriel answered without hesitation.
"Claire stays."
Marco frowned.
"Gabriel—"
"Did I stutter?"
"No."
"Then continue."
Dr. Mercer closed her medical case.
"Your father asked me to preserve several blood samples."
"Why?"
"He wouldn't say."
"Where are they?"
"Gone."
Gabriel leaned forward.
"Gone how?"
"Someone broke into my private laboratory the night after the explosion."
"And you never mentioned this?"
"I was threatened."
"By whom?"
"I don't know."
Gabriel's voice dropped.
"Everyone suddenly knows nothing."
Dr. Mercer met his stare.
"I received photographs of my daughter leaving school."
That stopped him.
Even Marco looked away.
Dr. Mercer's voice shook for the first time.
"The message said if I told you about the blood samples, my daughter would disappear."
Gabriel stared at her.
"Why tell me now?"
"Because whoever threatened me used the number 417."
I felt the hairs rise on my arms.
"The account," I said.
She nodded.
"The message told me to forget account 417."
Gabriel turned toward Marco.
"Find it."
Marco took out his phone.
"No network."
Luca checked his.
"Mine too."
"The power outage killed the internal system," Marco said.
Gabriel shook his head.
"The mansion has three backup systems."
Nobody spoke.
Marco walked to a control panel.
Dead.
"Someone shut them down manually."
"From where?" Gabriel asked.
"Security room."
Gabriel looked at Luca.
"Who's there?"
"Antonio and Reed."
"Call them."
"No signal."
Gabriel looked toward the ceiling cameras.
Dark.
I felt suddenly exposed.
Whoever had cut the power had also blinded security.
And they had opened our door.
"Maybe the person isn't trying to get in," I said.
Gabriel looked at me.
"What?"
"Maybe they're trying to keep us here."
His eyes sharpened.
I pointed at the capsule.
"You find evidence. The doctor arrives. The power dies. Security disappears."
Marco understood.
"A containment strategy."
"Or distraction," Luca said.
Gabriel looked at him.
"From what?"
Luca's expression changed.
"The vault."
Gabriel swore.
Marco unlocked the door.
This time Gabriel didn't stop him.
"Check it."
Marco disappeared.
Luca stayed with us.
I looked at Gabriel.
"What vault?"
"Something you don't need to worry about."
"Wonderful. We've reached the secret-vault portion of my nursing orientation."
Gabriel glanced at me.
"You're handling this strangely well."
"I'm not."
"You look calm."
"My legs are shaking."
He looked down.
"They are."
"Thank you for confirming that."
A tiny sound escaped Dr. Mercer.
Almost a laugh.
Gabriel looked at her.
She immediately became serious.
I folded my arms.
"You're both terrible people."
For one absurd second, the tension broke.
Then Marco returned.
His face told us something was wrong.
"The vault is open."
Gabriel went still.
"What's missing?"
"One box."
"Which?"
Marco hesitated.
"Vittorio's."
Gabriel's hand tightened around the wheelchair armrest.
"What was inside?"
"Your father's private records."
Gabriel rolled toward the door.
"Take me there."
I stepped forward.
"Wait."
He looked at me.
"You may have poison in your bloodstream."
"And someone just stole my dead father's files."
"You hired me to keep you alive."
"I hired you because you destroyed my suit."
"Then I'm taking the promotion seriously."
His eyes held mine.
For several seconds neither of us moved.
Then he sighed.
"Bring the medical bag."
I blinked.
"That's it?"
"What did you expect?"
"Another rose threat."
"Give me time."
We moved through the mansion.
Luca led.
Gabriel followed.
I walked beside him carrying Dr. Mercer's case.
Dr. Mercer stayed behind us.
Marco covered the rear.
The hallways were lit only by emergency lamps.
Every doorway seemed darker than it should have been.
The mansion suddenly didn't feel luxurious.
It felt enormous.
And vulnerable.
We reached Gabriel's private office on the second floor.
A hidden panel behind a bookshelf stood open.
Inside was a steel vault.
Several boxes remained untouched.
One empty space sat in the center.
Gabriel stared at it.
"Who knew?"
Marco answered.
"Four people."
"Names."
"You. Me. Luca."
"And?"
Marco looked uncomfortable.
"Your uncle."
Gabriel's face hardened.
"Dominic."
The name seemed to change the room.
I remembered it from the agency briefing.
Dominic Moretti.
Vittorio's younger brother.
Gabriel's uncle.
The man who had temporarily managed several family businesses after the explosion.
"Where is he?" Gabriel asked.
"Chicago," Marco said.
"Supposedly."
Gabriel looked at Luca.
"Find him."
Luca nodded.
I crouched beside the vault.
Something glittered near the bottom.
"Don't touch anything," Marco said.
"I'm beginning to think that's your favorite sentence."
I pointed.
A tiny shard of plastic lay near the vault hinge.
Marco put on gloves and picked it up.
It was part of a security access card.
Gabriel looked at it.
"Number?"
Marco turned it over.
His expression changed.
"417."
Nobody said anything.
Again.
That number.
I stared at the broken card.
"What exactly is account 417?"
Gabriel looked at Dr. Mercer.
"You started this."
She exhaled.
"Vittorio showed me one statement."
"From which bank?"
"I don't know. There was no bank name."
"Balance?"
She hesitated.
"Forty-eight million dollars."
Even I forgot how to breathe.
Gabriel stared at her.
"Forty-eight million?"
"That was eighteen months ago."
Marco muttered something in Italian.
Gabriel's expression was terrifyingly calm.
"Whose money?"
"According to Vittorio, yours."
Gabriel blinked once.
"Mine?"
"He believed someone had been diverting your inheritance."
That word landed differently.
Inheritance.
This wasn't simply someone stealing mafia money.
Someone had been stealing from Gabriel personally.
"How long?" he asked.
"Years."
Gabriel turned away.
His jaw tightened.
"My father controlled the estate."
"Apparently not all of it."
Marco looked at Gabriel.
"Dominic managed the offshore holdings."
Gabriel's eyes snapped toward him.
"You're accusing my uncle?"
"I'm stating a fact."
Gabriel looked back at the empty vault.
I watched his face.
Anger.
Betrayal.
Something else.
Grief.
His father had apparently discovered something shortly before dying.
Then the car exploded.
Gabriel survived but lost the use of his legs.
And Dominic took control of portions of the Moretti financial empire during Gabriel's recovery.
The pieces were beginning to align.
Too neatly.
"Someone wanted your father dead," I said.
Gabriel looked at me.
"And me."
I regretted saying it.
But he nodded.
"Yes."
Dr. Mercer suddenly stepped closer.
"There's something else."
Gabriel's patience snapped.
"Of course there is."
"Your father believed the account wasn't only being used to steal money."
"What else?"
"Payments."
"To whom?"
"I don't know."
"Stop saying that."
"I don't know!"
Her voice cracked.
"He showed me transaction codes, Gabriel. Hundreds of them. He believed someone was paying people inside your organization."
Marco's face darkened.
"Bribes."
"Maybe."
Gabriel looked at the bodyguards.
"Or salaries."
The implication hung between them.
A private network.
People working for someone else while standing inside Gabriel's house.
I thought about the voice in the darkness.
Claire.
Whoever was behind this knew I'd arrived.
Maybe they'd known before Gabriel did.
My phone vibrated.
I jumped.
Everyone looked at me.
"Sorry."
I pulled it out.
No signal.
But a message had arrived.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
My stomach dropped.
Gabriel noticed.
"What?"
I didn't answer.
"Claire."
I showed him the screen.
The message contained a photograph.
Me.
Entering the mansion that morning.
Taken from somewhere outside the front gates.
Underneath were six words.
YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO FIND IT.
Gabriel's expression became deadly.
"Give me the phone."
I did.
Another message arrived.
A photograph appeared.
My apartment building.
Then another.
My sister Emily walking toward her car.
My blood turned cold.
"No."
Gabriel looked at me.
"Your sister?"
I nodded.
I tried calling her.
Nothing.
No signal.
Again.
"Claire," Gabriel said.
"I need to go."
"You can't."
"That's my sister."
"I know."
"You don't know anything about her."
"I know leaving this mansion alone is exactly what whoever sent this wants."
I hated that he was right.
"I need to know she's safe."
Gabriel looked at Luca.
"Get a satellite phone."
Luca left.
Gabriel handed my phone back.
"We'll find her."
Something about the certainty in his voice steadied me.
"Why?"
His eyebrows lowered.
"Why what?"
"Why help me?"
"Because whoever threatened your sister did it because of me."
I looked at him.
He didn't make promises dramatically.
He simply said, "That makes her my responsibility."
For the first time since I'd spilled coffee on him, I saw something beneath the intimidation.
Gabriel Moretti frightened people.
But he also carried responsibility like a debt.
Luca returned with the satellite phone.
I dialed Emily.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"Come on."
Fourth ring.
She answered.
"Claire?"
My knees almost gave out.
"Emily."
"Why are you calling from this number?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Where are you?"
"At work."
I closed my eyes.
"Stay there."
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Claire."
"Just stay somewhere public."
Silence.
Then she said, "Okay."
"Promise."
"I promise."
I ended the call.
Gabriel nodded.
"Good."
Then Luca's phone connected to an emergency network.
Messages flooded in.
He checked one.
Then another.
His expression darkened.
"What?" Gabriel asked.
"We found Dominic."
"Where?"
Luca looked up.
"He's not in Chicago."
Gabriel waited.
"He's here."
"In the city?"
"No."
Luca looked toward the hallway.
"On the estate."
Marco drew his gun.
Gabriel's face went completely still.
"Where?"
"The old guesthouse."
Gabriel turned his wheelchair.
"We're going."
Marco stepped forward.
"Absolutely not."
Gabriel looked almost amused.
"You've known me twelve years and still try that."
"If Dominic is involved—"
"Then I want to hear him lie to my face."
"I'll bring him here."
"No."
Gabriel looked at me.
"Claire."
"What?"
"You're coming."
My mouth opened.
"Why?"
"Because apparently every time you enter a room, evidence falls out."
"That's not a medical qualification."
"It's the most useful skill anyone in this house has demonstrated today."
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
We moved downstairs.
The old guesthouse stood across the rear gardens.
The roses were visible through the glass doors.
Hundreds of them.
I looked at Gabriel.
He noticed.
"Don't."
"You really do have roses."
"Claire."
"I thought it was metaphorical."
"It wasn't."
"Good to know."
Luca pushed open the rear door.
Cold evening air entered.
Marco went ahead.
Gabriel rolled along the stone path.
I stayed beside him.
The guesthouse appeared beyond the garden.
No lights.
No movement.
Marco reached the door first.
Unlocked.
He entered.
Seconds passed.
Then his voice came through the darkness.
"Gabriel."
Something was wrong.
We hurried inside.
The room was empty.
A chair stood in the center.
Rope lay around its legs.
Blood marked the floor.
Fresh.
Gabriel stared at it.
"Dominic?"
Marco shook his head.
"No body."
I noticed a laptop on the table.
Its screen was glowing.
One file was open.
ACCOUNT_417.
Gabriel approached.
"Don't touch it," I said.
He looked at me.
I pointed toward the keyboard.
A wire ran underneath.
Marco crouched.
"She's right."
He followed the wire.
Not an explosive.
A small external drive.
He disconnected it carefully.
The screen changed.
A video began playing automatically.
An older man appeared.
Gray hair.
Expensive suit.
Gabriel stopped breathing.
"Father."
Vittorio Moretti.
Alive on the recording.
The timestamp was two days before the explosion.
Vittorio looked directly into the camera.
"If Gabriel is watching this, then I failed."
Gabriel's hands tightened.
The video continued.
"Account 417 contains everything. Every transfer. Every payment. Every person who betrayed us."
Static distorted the image.
Then Vittorio leaned toward the camera.
"Gabriel, the person stealing your inheritance is not your greatest danger."
The video froze.
A password prompt appeared.
Gabriel stared at it.
I noticed something written on the table beside the laptop.
Four words.
In dried blood.
TRUST THE GIRL WHO FALLS.
Everyone slowly looked at me.
"I don't understand," I whispered.
Gabriel looked at the message.
Then at me.
His expression changed.
"Claire."
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
Marco raised his gun.
Another creak.
Then footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Someone was walking toward the staircase.
Gabriel whispered one name.
"Dominic."
May you like
The upstairs door opened.
And the man who stepped into the hallway was holding a photograph of me taken eighteen years ago.
