Chapter 5 - Elena’s RoomThe old Moretti house in Astoria looked frozen in time.
That made Vincent more suspicious, not less.
The Moretti family owned the building through three legitimate companies. During daylight, trucks delivered restaurant equipment.
At midnight, nobody came there by accident.
Adrian walked into the upstairs office wearing a gray suit and no tie.
Marco closed the door behind him.
Vincent sat behind the desk.
The photograph lay between them.
Adrian looked at it once.
Then looked at Vincent.
“You searched Isabella’s things.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been following me?”
“Not yet.”
Adrian’s mouth tightened.
Vincent tapped the photograph.
“Explain.”
It showed Adrian leaving a private restaurant with Luca Valenti.
Time stamp: forty-eight hours before Isabella’s death.
Adrian sat.
“I can.”
“Then do it.”
“I met Luca because he contacted me.”
“Why?”
“He thought somebody was stealing from both families.”
Vincent’s expression sharpened.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“For how long?”
“Six months.”
The room chilled.
Vincent stood.
“You knew someone was stealing millions from us for six months and didn’t tell me?”
“I was trying to identify who.”
“That is not your decision.”
“You would have started a war.”
“Maybe.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
Vincent slammed one hand onto the desk.
“Isabella died!”
Adrian did not flinch.
“I know.”
“Did she contact you?”
“Yes.”
Vincent stared.
“When?”
“The day before she died.”
“What did she say?”
“That she had proof.”
“Of what?”
“She wouldn’t tell me over the phone.”
“Why not?”
“She said the person involved had access to your communications.”
Vincent went still.
Adrian continued.
“She believed somebody inside the organization was monitoring you.”
Marco shifted.
Vincent asked, “Did she name them?”
“No.”
“Did you meet her?”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“She never showed.”
“Because she was dead.”
Adrian’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
Vincent picked up the gold ring from the desk.
“And this?”
Adrian sighed.
“The Saint Catherine Foundation gave them to major donors.”
“How many?”
“Maybe fifty.”
“Luca has one?”
“Probably.”
“Do you?”
“You’re holding mine.”
Vincent’s anger faltered.
Fifty rings.
Sofia’s clue did not identify Adrian.
But it did place the attacker within a limited circle.
“List every donor.”
“I can get you the records.”
“You will.”
Adrian leaned forward.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Isabella told me the stolen money wasn’t the real problem.”
Vincent frowned.
“Forty-two million isn’t the problem?”
“She said the money was funding something.”
“What?”
“She didn’t know.”
Marco crossed his arms.
“Drugs?”
Adrian shook his head.
“No.”
“Weapons?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“She said the transfers ended at shell companies tied to real estate purchases.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Where?”
“Queens. Brooklyn. New Jersey.”
“Properties?”
“Warehouses. Apartment buildings. Old hotels.”
Vincent’s mind worked.
Something bigger than theft.
A network.
Adrian looked directly at him.
“Vincent, Isabella believed somebody was building an independent organization using our money.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“But she did.”
“Maybe.”
Vincent turned toward the window.
Twenty years.
He had spent twenty years making sure no rival could grow strong enough to challenge him.
What if the real threat had been inside his own empire?
His phone rang.
Maria.
Vincent answered immediately.
“What happened?”
“Nothing bad.”
His shoulders lowered slightly.
“Then why are you calling?”
“Sofia won’t sleep.”
A tiny voice appeared in the background.
“I need Vincent.”
Adrian watched his brother’s expression change.
Vincent sighed.
“I’m working.”
“You said you would do the dragon voice.”
Marco looked down.
Adrian smiled.
Vincent glared at both of them.
“I’ll call back.”
“No.”
“Sofia.”
“You promised.”
Vincent rubbed his forehead.
A criminal empire waited for his orders.
A conspiracy involving millions was unfolding.
And a toddler was demanding story time.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Ten.”
“Fifteen.”
“Okay.”
The call ended.
Adrian laughed.
Vincent pointed toward the door.
“Do not.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to say Elena would find this hilarious.”
Vincent’s anger softened again.
Adrian stood.
“Investigate me if you need to.”
“I will.”
“I know.”
He reached the door.
Then stopped.
“But protect Sofia from more than bullets.”
Vincent frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“From becoming us.”
The words landed harder than Vincent expected.
Adrian left.
By the time Vincent returned home, Sofia was sitting upright in bed waiting.
Her eyes were heavy.
“You’re late.”
“By four minutes.”
“That’s late.”
Vincent sat beside her.
“Where’s the book?”
She handed him a picture book about a princess and a dragon.
Vincent opened it.
“You skipped yesterday.”
“I had business.”
“You always have business.”
Vincent looked at her.
Sofia looked back.
Adults avoided his eyes.
She never did.
He began reading.
His dragon voice was terrible.
Sofia loved it.
Halfway through the story, she leaned against his arm.
By the end, she was asleep.
Vincent closed the book.
As he stood, something fell from beneath Sofia’s pillow.
A photograph.
Vincent picked it up.
Sofia and Isabella.
The mother was kneeling behind her daughter at a playground.
Both were laughing.
Written across the back in blue ink were four words.
FOR VINCENT — TRUST ELENA’S ROOM.
Vincent stopped breathing.
Elena’s room.
His dead sister.
He gently woke Sofia.
“Sofia.”
She opened sleepy eyes.
“Where did you get this?”
She looked at the photograph.
“Mommy gave it to me.”
“When?”
“Before the car.”
“What did she say?”
“To hide it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Sofia shrugged.
“She said only give it when the snake came back.”
Vincent felt cold.
“Did you see the snake again?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
“Yesterday.”
Every muscle in Vincent’s body tightened.
“Where?”
“In the house.”
He pressed the security button beside her bed.
Marco’s voice answered instantly.
“Boss?”
Vincent kept his eyes on Sofia.
“Lock everything down.”
“What happened?”
Vincent’s voice turned deadly.
“The man with the ring has already been inside.”
Within three minutes, security flooded the penthouse.
Vincent asked Sofia to describe what she had seen.
“A man?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
“By the elevator.”
“When?”
“When Maria got my milk.”
“What did he look like?”
“Old.”
“How old?”
“Like Grandpa in cartoons.”
Vincent nearly groaned.
“Hair?”
“White.”
“Tall?”
She nodded.
“Did he speak to you?”
“No.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Blue.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No.”
Vincent brought up visitor photographs.
Sofia rejected twelve faces.
Then her tiny finger stopped.
“That one.”
Vincent stared.
The man in the photograph was Senator Charles Hargrove.
Chairman of the state transportation committee.
Publicly respectable.
Privately useful.
Hargrove had attended Moretti events for fifteen years.
And three days earlier, he had visited the penthouse for what everyone believed was a routine political meeting.
On his right hand was a gold serpent ring.
Vincent immediately understood the deeper problem.
Hargrove was not family.
Not a soldier.
Not a rival.
He was something far more dangerous.
A man who moved between all worlds.
Business.
Government.
Crime.
And no one had considered him an enemy.
Vincent looked at Marco.
“Find everything on Hargrove.”
Marco nodded.
Vincent turned the photograph over again.
Trust Elena’s room.
His sister’s bedroom still existed exactly as she had left it.
Not in the penthouse.
In the old Moretti family house in Queens.
A house Vincent had kept empty for nine years.
He looked at Marco.
“We’re going home.”
“To Queens?”
Vincent nodded.
“Isabella left something there.”
Marco glanced at Sofia.
“What about her?”
Vincent looked at the little girl.
If Isabella had trusted Sofia with the clue, perhaps she had expected her daughter to be present.
But bringing Sofia outside meant risk.
Leaving her meant risk too.
Sofia hugged Buttons.
“Are we going on an adventure?”
Vincent crouched.
“No.”
She frowned.
“What is it?”
His voice softened.
“We’re going to meet my sister.”
Sofia looked confused.
“I thought she was in heaven.”
May you like
Vincent stared at the photograph in his hand.
“So did I.”
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