Chapter 11 - Someone Inside the House Betrayed Us
The missing man was Marco Bell.
Rafael's security coordinator.
He had access to the estate.
Vehicles.
Schedules.
Camera systems.
Including the night someone burned the archive room.
“Marco worked for Dominic?” I asked.
Rafael shook his head.
“Since before my father died.”
That was worse.
We found Marco's access logs.
He had entered Rafael's father's office the night Antonio Moretti died.
Officially, Antonio had suffered a heart attack.
Now Rafael reopened everything.
The medical report had been signed by a doctor connected to Dominic.
“Your father may have been murdered.”
Rafael stared at the report.
For the first time since I'd known him, he looked less like an intimidating crime boss and more like a son.
I sat beside him.
He didn't speak.
I didn't make him.
Eventually his hand found mine.
Marco's phone records led us to an old Moretti property outside the city.
Rafael wanted to go himself.
I hated it.
But I understood.
We went with federal agents.
Marco was there.
So were decades of records.
He surrendered.
Not out of remorse.
Out of fear that Dominic would have him killed in prison.
His testimony filled the final gaps.
Dominic had poisoned Antonio's heart medication.
Victor had ordered Laura's car sabotaged.
The two men had laundered money through Callow Logistics.
And Marco had spent years destroying evidence.
“Why burn the archive?” I asked.
“Victor ordered it.”
“And the message saying Mom was alive?”
Marco looked at me.
“That wasn't me.”
“Then who?”
“I don't know.”
There was still someone else.
That evening, Rafael stood on the terrace.
I joined him.
“You okay?”
“No.”
It was becoming my favorite thing about him.
Truth without decoration.
I leaned against his arm.
“My father tried to kill my mother. Your uncle killed your father.”
“Yes.”
“Our families are terrible.”
“Yes.”
“I think we're improving the average.”
His arm wrapped around me.
“I think so too.”
“Was that optimism?”
“Don't tell anyone.”
I smiled.
Then his expression changed.
“What?”
He handed me his phone.
A security alert.
Someone had entered the mansion using a valid biometric credential.
Laura?
Serena?
Me?
No.
The name on-screen was impossible.
ANTONIO MORETTI.
Rafael stared at it.
“My father's biometric profile was deleted six years ago.”
We drove back immediately.
The mansion was silent.
The study door stood open.
The painting from the rainy night was gone.
In its place hung a handwritten note.
Rafael recognized the handwriting.
His father's.
IF YOU FOUND JUNE CALLOW, OPEN THE WALL.
We looked behind the empty frame.
A small recessed panel waited there.
Rafael pressed it.
Something clicked.
May you like
The entire bookshelf began moving.
And behind it, a hidden room slowly opened...
