Chapter 2 - The Secret Hidden in the Numbers
The first thing I heard after the ballroom lights went dark was the sound of someone running.
Not walking.
Running.
A chair scraped against the marble floor.
A glass shattered.
Then dozens of voices erupted at once.
"Everyone stay where you are!"
The security team reacted immediately, but nobody moved faster than Matteo Bellandi.
He stood beside me in the darkness, one hand holding the folder I had given him, the other protecting the table between us.
For a man who supposedly controlled half of Chicago's underground world, his reaction was not anger.
It was calculation.
He was listening.
Watching.
Waiting.
And somehow, that made the entire room more afraid.
The emergency lights turned on seconds later.
The golden ballroom returned.
But everything had changed.
The guests who had been staring at me with judgment were now looking around nervously.
Because everyone understood one thing.
Someone had just threatened Matteo Bellandi in his own event.
And whoever sent that message was not afraid of him.
I looked down at my phone again.
The message was still there.
"Stop protecting Elena Brooks before she tells him who you really are."
My fingers tightened around the device.
I had expected people to attack my reputation.
I had expected them to deny the financial evidence.
But I had never expected someone to warn Matteo about me.
I looked at him.
"Who are they talking about?"
Matteo didn't answer immediately.
His eyes stayed on the crowd.
Then he said quietly:
"Not who."
A pause.
"How many."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
He finally looked at me.
"It means you are not the first person who tried to expose this."
The answer surprised me.
Because I thought I was alone.
For three weeks, I had believed I was the only one who noticed the impossible numbers.
The missing funds.
The fake companies.
The money that disappeared and somehow always returned through different accounts.
But Matteo's expression told me something I didn't know.
Someone else had been looking too.
"Then why didn't you stop it?" I asked.
His jaw tightened.
"Because I didn't know who I could trust."
That was not the answer I expected.
Matteo Bellandi did not look like a man who doubted anyone.
He looked like a man people doubted.
But sitting beside him, watching the way he studied every person in the room, I realized something.
Power did not mean safety.
Sometimes power just meant you had more enemies.
A voice interrupted us.
"Matteo."
Victoria approached slowly.
She had fixed her expression.
The fear was gone.
The perfect smile was back.
Almost.
"Can we please talk privately?"
Matteo looked at her.
"No."
The single word hit harder than shouting.
Several guests turned.
Victoria's smile weakened.
"You're embarrassing me."
Matteo glanced at the folder.
"No."
He placed the documents on the table.
"You did that yourself."
Her face changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
A flash of panic.
Then anger.
"You are seriously believing her?"
Victoria pointed at me.
"The accountant who walked into our gala with accusations?"
I stayed silent.
Because I knew something she didn't.
The more she attacked me, the more she revealed.
Matteo noticed too.
He leaned back.
"Interesting."
Victoria froze.
"What?"
"You haven't asked what evidence she has."
The room became quiet.
Matteo continued.
"You only asked why I believe her."
Victoria opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
And for the first time, I saw the perfect woman lose control.
Not completely.
Just enough.
Matteo picked up the photograph I had placed on the table.
The one that had changed his expression.
He turned it toward me.
"Where did you get this?"
I looked at the picture.
A man stood beside Victoria.
His face was partly hidden.
But I recognized him.
"I found it inside a financial archive."
"Whose archive?"
I hesitated.
"Your father's."
The room seemed colder.
Everyone knew the name Bellandi.
But everyone knew one thing more.
Matteo's father had died six years earlier.
A heart attack.
A closed case.
A funeral attended by hundreds.
A man buried with no questions.
At least, that was what everyone believed.
Matteo's fingers tightened around the photograph.
"What was this doing in my father's files?"
I looked at him.
"That's what I was trying to find out."
Before he could answer, one of the security officers approached.
"Mr. Bellandi."
Matteo looked up.
"We checked the message."
"And?"
The officer swallowed.
"It came from inside the building."
Nobody spoke.
The officer continued.
"But there's something else."
Matteo waited.
"The device that sent it..."
A pause.
"It belongs to someone on your guest list."
Every person in the ballroom became suspicious.
Friends looked at friends.
Family members looked away.
And suddenly the gala was no longer a celebration.
It was an investigation.
Matteo stood.
The room immediately went silent.
"Nobody leaves."
The guests exchanged nervous looks.
Victoria stepped forward.
"Matteo, this is insane."
He looked at her.
"No."
His voice was calm.
"What's insane is that someone thought they could threaten me in my own house."
I watched everyone carefully.
Because there was one thing I had learned as an accountant.
Numbers rarely lied.
People did.
And people always made mistakes when they were afraid.
I noticed one person who wasn't looking at Matteo.
Or Victoria.
Or the security team.
They were looking at me.
A man standing near the orchestra.
Older.
Gray hair.
Expensive suit.
Someone I had seen earlier.
Someone who had looked uncomfortable when I first entered the room.
Matteo followed my gaze.
"Who is that?"
I lowered my voice.
"I don't know."
But I knew something was wrong.
Because when our eyes met, he immediately looked away.
Matteo signaled one of his guards.
"Bring him here."
The guard moved.
But before he reached the man, the orchestra area suddenly went dark.
Again.
A second blackout.
This time, only for three seconds.
But three seconds was enough.
When the lights returned...
The man was gone.
The security team rushed toward the exit.
Locked.
No one had left.
No one had entered.
I stared at the empty space.
"How?"
Matteo walked toward the orchestra.
Then he stopped.
On the floor was something small.
A silver cufflink.
He picked it up.
His face changed.
I had seen that expression before.
The photograph.
The message.
The hidden documents.
All of it had shocked him.
But this was different.
This was personal.
"What is it?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
He turned the cufflink over.
There was a symbol engraved on it.
A symbol I didn't recognize.
But Matteo did.
His voice became quieter.
"Impossible."
"What?"
He looked at me.
"My father had this symbol."
I stared at him.
"But your father is dead."
Matteo said nothing.
Because he was no longer looking at the cufflink.
He was looking past me.
Toward the entrance of the ballroom.
The doors had slowly opened.
A figure stood outside.
Someone nobody expected to see.
May you like
Someone Matteo had buried six years ago.
And then the person stepped forward and whispered his name...
