Chapter 3 - The Photograph
Enzo fired once.
Not at the person.
At the ceiling above the opening door.
The sound cracked through the library.
The door slammed shut.
Footsteps ran.
Marco shouted from the hallway.
“Mr. Marchetti!”
Enzo unlocked the door.
Marco entered with two armed guards.
“East corridor clear. One man down near the service stairs. Shooter escaped.”
“Who was hit?”
“Carlo. Shoulder. He’ll live.”
Enzo looked toward Alfonso.
The old man was pale but conscious.
Lucia crouched beside him.
“Your pulse is too fast.”
Alfonso gave her a tired smile.
“Everything tonight is too fast.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I know.”
For once, he meant it.
Enzo closed the library doors again.
“No one comes in.”
Marco nodded.
“What about the estate?”
“Lock it down.”
“The guests?”
“Everyone stays where they are.”
Lucia looked at him.
“Guests?”
“There are always people staying here.”
“Wonderful.”
Enzo turned toward the safe.
The black ledger remained inside.
The envelope too.
He removed both.
Lucia still held the photograph.
Her mother’s face looked impossibly young.
Elena Bellini had been a nurse for twenty-eight years.
She had worked long hours.
Bought groceries with coupons.
Refused to complain.
And never, not once, mentioned Alfonso Marchetti.
“What did she save you from?” Lucia asked.
Alfonso looked at the photograph.
“Your mother was twenty-six.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“I know.”
“Then answer me.”
Enzo leaned against the table.
Alfonso sighed.
“I was shot.”
Lucia looked at Enzo.
He did not react.
Apparently this family considered that normal.
“Where?”
“South side.”
“No. Where were you shot?”
“Twice in the abdomen.”
Lucia inhaled slowly.
Alfonso continued.
“I could not go to a hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because the police were waiting.”
Lucia stared.
“You were running from the police?”
“I was younger.”
“That is not a defense.”
Enzo’s mouth twitched.
Alfonso noticed.
“You enjoy this too much.”
“She’s efficient.”
Lucia ignored them both.
“My mother treated you?”
“For three days.”
“Where?”
“A church basement.”
Lucia blinked.
“She never told me.”
“I asked her not to.”
“And she just agreed?”
“No.”
That sounded like her mother.
“She told me I was a fool,” Alfonso continued. “She told me men like me believed money could replace morality.”
Lucia’s throat tightened.
“That sounds like her.”
“She also told me if I died on her floor, she would be furious.”
Lucia almost laughed.
Instead tears burned behind her eyes.
Alfonso looked down.
“I owed her my life.”
“So you hired me because of her?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“You were assigned randomly by the agency.”
Lucia frowned.
“That message said I wasn’t random.”
Enzo picked up Alfonso’s phone.
“Which means someone else knew her connection.”
Alfonso’s expression hardened.
“Or someone made the assignment appear random.”
Enzo opened the sealed envelope.
Inside was a legal document.
Lucia saw the heading.
LAST TESTAMENT AND PRIVATE DECLARATION.
“Nonno.”
“Read page four.”
Enzo turned pages.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Lucia looked between them.
Enzo read silently.
Then looked at Alfonso.
“You transferred twenty percent of the foundation into an independent trust.”
“Yes.”
“In Lucia’s name?”
Lucia stepped back.
“What?”
Alfonso pointed at the document.
“Not hers personally. A medical trust.”
“That is not what you said,” Lucia snapped.
“Would you have listened if I had begun with tax structure?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
Enzo continued reading.
“The Bellini Care Trust.”
Lucia felt dizzy.
“My mother’s name?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
Alfonso folded his hands over the blanket on his lap.
“A medical assistance fund for families who cannot afford private home care.”
Lucia stared at him.
“You created that?”
“Years ago.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“Because your mother did not want recognition.”
Lucia looked at the photograph again.
Alfonso’s voice softened.
“She said charity with a photographer was advertising.”
Lucia laughed through the tears now.
“Yes. That was her.”
Enzo turned another page.
Then stopped.
His eyes sharpened.
“What is this?”
Alfonso closed his eyes.
Lucia looked over Enzo’s shoulder.
A list of names.
Payments.
Dates.
Corporate accounts.
One name repeated.
SALVATORE DELUCA.
Camilla’s father.
Enzo’s voice dropped.
“You’ve been tracking him.”
“For twelve years.”
“Why?”
“Because your father was not killed in a car accident.”
Lucia went still.
Enzo did not breathe.
The storm rattled the windows.
“Say that again.”
Alfonso opened his eyes.
“Your father’s brakes did not fail.”
Enzo stared at him.
“Who?”
“I never had enough proof.”
“Who?”
“Salvatore was involved.”
Enzo’s hands flattened on the table.
“And you invited his daughter into this house?”
“To watch him react.”
Lucia understood.
“The bride competition.”
Alfonso nodded.
“It was bait.”
Enzo’s face turned dangerous.
“You used me.”
“I used his ambition.”
“You used me.”
“Yes.”
Lucia stepped between them without thinking.
Both men looked at her.
“Not now.”
Enzo stared.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Lucia.”
“Your grandfather’s blood pressure is collapsing.”
Enzo looked at the monitor attached to Alfonso’s wrist.
The anger vanished.
Lucia knelt.
“Mr. Marchetti, stay with me.”
“I am.”
“Barely.”
She checked him.
Called his physician.
Ordered Marco to bring the emergency kit.
Nobody questioned her.
For fifteen minutes, the library became a hospital room.
Alfonso stabilized.
Barely.
When Lucia finally sat back, sweat dampened her hairline.
Enzo handed her a glass of water.
She accepted it.
“Thank you.”
“You saved him.”
“I did my job.”
Alfonso opened one eye.
“Exactly.”
Lucia pointed at him.
“No talking.”
He closed it again.
Enzo leaned against the table.
“Why marriage?”
Alfonso answered without opening his eyes.
“Because you trust no one.”
“That is not a reason to marry someone.”
“No. But it is a reason to stop surrounding yourself with people who want the Marchetti name.”
Lucia stood.
“I still have a vote in this.”
“Yes,” Alfonso said.
“And my vote is no.”
“Today.”
“Tomorrow too.”
“We’ll see.”
Enzo looked at her.
“This is absurd.”
“Thank you.”
“I wasn’t agreeing with you.”
“You should.”
A knock sounded.
Marco entered.
“We found the man who cut the cameras.”
“Who?”
“A contractor. Name is Felix Moran.”
Enzo frowned.
“I don’t know him.”
“He had this.”
Marco placed a hotel key card on the table.
Camilla DeLuca’s name was printed on the sleeve.
Lucia’s stomach dropped.
Enzo picked it up.
“Where is Camilla?”
“Her room.”
“Bring her.”
Marco hesitated.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“She’s gone.”
Enzo looked up.
“When?”
“Security footage shows her leaving through the conservatory seven minutes before the blackout.”
Lucia remembered Camilla’s fear earlier.
Maybe she had not been afraid of Enzo.
Maybe she had been afraid of something else.
Marco continued.
“We also checked the blood on Lucia’s note.”
“And?”
“It wasn’t human.”
Lucia frowned.
“What?”
“Animal blood.”
“A warning designed to scare me.”
“Yes.”
Enzo looked at the ledger.
“Which means whoever sent it wanted her gone, not dead.”
“Maybe,” Marco said.
“Maybe?”
Marco pulled out his phone.
“There’s another problem.”
He showed Enzo a photograph.
A black sedan.
Parked outside Lucia’s apartment building.
Taken forty minutes earlier.
Lucia felt cold.
“My brother.”
Enzo looked at her.
“What?”
“My brother lives with me.”
She grabbed her phone.
Three missed calls.
All from Mateo.
Lucia called back.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then a text arrived.
From Mateo’s number.
Lucia opened it.
COME HOME ALONE.
Beneath the words was a photograph of Mateo sitting in their kitchen.
His hands were visible.
So was the man standing behind him.
Lucia zoomed in.
She stopped breathing.
Alfonso looked at the screen.
His face lost all color.
Enzo noticed.
“You know him.”
Alfonso whispered one name.
May you like
A name Enzo had not heard since his father’s funeral.
“Vittorio.”
