Chapter 7 - The Traitor at Dante’s Table
Dante answered on speaker.
“Where are you?”
Marco’s voice was calm.
“At Blackthorn.”
“Why?”
“Cleaning up.”
The call ended.
Dante was already moving.
Ruiz ordered officers toward the manor.
Elena caught Dante’s arm.
“You’re not going without me.”
“Yes, I am.”
“My father’s evidence is there.”
“And someone has already tried to kill people over it.”
“That is exactly why—”
“No.”
Elena stared.
Dante stared back.
Then Claire spoke.
“Arthur used to make that face.”
Elena turned.
“What face?”
“The one you’re making before doing something stupid.”
Dante almost laughed.
Elena did not.
In the end she rode with Ruiz.
Blackthorn Manor was dark when they arrived.
The staff had been evacuated.
A single light burned in the ballroom.
Marco stood beside the piano.
The black archive case rested open.
“You brought police,” he said.
Dante entered first.
“You expected flowers?”
Marco had served Dante for twelve years.
Protected him.
Taken a bullet for him once.
Dante’s betrayal was quieter than Elena’s.
That made it more painful.
“Why?” Dante asked.
Marco looked toward the piano.
“My father signed that contract.”
“Your father?”
“Gianni Bellini.”
The signature Arthur recorded was not Marco’s.
It belonged to Marco’s father.
Gianni had been Victor Calder’s accountant and Salvatore Moretti’s informant.
He played both sides.
When Arthur discovered it, Gianni panicked.
“He told Victor where Arthur hid evidence,” Marco said.
“And you’ve spent your life covering for him?” Elena asked.
“My father died protecting me.”
“My father died because yours betrayed him.”
Marco flinched.
Good.
Elena wanted him to.
Marco claimed Victor had controlled him since he was nineteen.
Victor possessed evidence connecting Gianni to murders and financial crimes.
If released, Marco’s mother would lose everything.
Dante shook his head.
“You could have told me.”
“I didn’t know if you’d forgive me.”
“You didn’t give me the choice.”
That landed harder than shouting.
Marco slid page forty-seven across the piano.
“I took this from Margaret before the gala.”
Elena stared.
“Why return it?”
“Because Victor has gone too far.”
Marco revealed Victor’s final plan.
The city intended to condemn the theater permanently in forty-eight hours.
Once demolished, the physical archive beneath the stage would disappear.
Calder Properties would acquire the block.
“Why does Victor still care?” Elena asked. “We have the deed.”
“Because ownership isn’t his biggest problem.”
Marco pointed toward the manuscript.
“Arthur encoded names.”
Judges.
Police.
Businessmen.
People Victor had paid for decades.
The missing records could dismantle his empire.
“Where are they?” Ruiz asked.
Marco looked at Elena.
“Inside the piano.”
Everyone turned.
The Steinway.
Arthur’s piano had been moved from the Vale Theater to Blackthorn after the closure.
Elena approached it.
She remembered the number.
17-B.
Not a catalog mark.
Instructions.
Seventeenth key.
B.
She counted.
Pressed the key.
Nothing.
Then she noticed a tiny scratch beneath the keyboard.
She pushed.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a microfilm canister.
Ruiz took it.
Marco exhaled.
“It’s over.”
A gunshot shattered the ballroom window.
Marco jerked backward.
Dante caught him.
Police shouted.
Elena dropped behind the piano.
A second bullet struck the chandelier.
Glass rained down.
Ruiz’s officers rushed outside.
Dante pressed his hands against Marco’s shoulder.
Blood spread through his shirt.
Marco struggled to speak.
“Victor…”
“Save your strength.”
“He knows…”
“What?”
Marco grabbed Dante’s jacket.
“He knows Claire is alive.”
Elena’s blood froze.
She grabbed her phone.
Three missed calls from the assisted-living facility.
Then a message from Claire.
Elena opened it.
May you like
Two words.
HE’S HERE.
