Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO PUT THE PAPERS THERE
“Why?”
Paul DeLuca leaned back in his chair.
“That’s the part we don’t know.”
Dante Bellarosa looked again at the security photograph of Vivien Rinaldi entering the Moretti penthouse.
He had known Vivien for almost a decade.
Thirty-nine years old.
Brilliant with numbers.
Cold under pressure.
The kind of executive who could move thirty million dollars through six companies and still tell you exactly which coffee shop charged her twice.
She had risen quickly inside Matteo Moretti’s organization.
Too quickly, perhaps.
“Does she have access to Matteo’s offshore accounts?” Dante asked.
“All of them.”
“Elena knew that?”
“Probably.”
Dante tapped one finger against the photograph.
“Then this wasn’t about planting random evidence.”
Paul nodded.
“She planted something Elena was already investigating.”
“To make Matteo think Elena betrayed him.”
“Exactly.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“And she knew what Matteo would do when he felt betrayed.”
Paul said nothing.
They both knew.
Matteo Moretti did not handle humiliation well.
His father had taught him that fear was faster than loyalty.
Matteo had improved the lesson.
He had learned to hide cruelty behind expensive tailoring and quiet speech.
But behind closed doors, he was still the boy who had once broken another teenager’s jaw because the boy laughed when Matteo mispronounced a word in front of his father.
Vivien knew his temper.
Everyone close to him did.
Dante pushed the photographs together.
“Find out what she gained.”
Paul nodded.
“And Matteo?”
Dante’s eyes went cold.
“I’ll handle Matteo.”
At Harbor Metropolitan, Carol Hartwell stood outside Elena’s intensive care room while a doctor explained the latest scan.
“The swelling has stabilized.”
“That’s good?”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
“And the baby?”
“Still stable. We’re monitoring for placental separation. If either of them deteriorates, we may have to deliver early.”
Carol looked through the glass.
Elena lay surrounded by machines.
Seven months pregnant.
Bruised.
Still.
The sight made Carol’s hands shake.
Then she saw a man walking down the corridor.
Tall.
Dark overcoat.
Silver at his temples.
Two men followed far enough behind to pretend they weren’t security.
Dante Bellarosa.
Carol had only met him twice before.
The first time had been fifteen years earlier in a federal courthouse hallway.
The second had been at Elena’s father’s funeral.
He stopped beside her.
“How is she?”
“Alive.”
“And the child?”
“Alive.”
Dante looked through the window.
His face changed.
The last time he had seen Elena, she was twenty-three and arguing with a waiter because the restaurant refused to let an elderly woman use the restroom without buying something.
She had always been like that.
Fierce about other people.
Quiet about herself.
“What did the doctors say happened?”
“Blunt-force trauma. Defensive bruising. Multiple impacts.”
Dante looked at Carol.
“So not a fall.”
“No.”
He entered the room.
Carol followed.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then he reached into his coat and placed one hand on the rail of Elena’s bed.
“You always did pick the hardest road, kid.”
Carol looked at him.
“You knew her father.”
Dante nodded.
“More than knew him.”
Elena’s father, Marco Vitale, had once saved Dante’s life in Brooklyn after a deal went bad.
Marco later left that world.
Dante tried to.
Matteo never really did.
“Did Elena ever tell you she named me as emergency trustee?” Carol asked.
Dante looked over.
“No.”
“She did.”
“For what?”
“Documents. Accounts. Evidence.”
Carol lowered her voice.
“If she dies, everything goes to federal prosecutors.”
Dante’s expression changed.
“And if she lives?”
“She decides.”
He nodded slowly.
“Good.”
That word mattered.
Elena had already spent too much of her life with powerful men deciding things for her.
Dante would not become another one.
His phone vibrated.
Paul.
Dante stepped into the hallway.
“What?”
“We found the motive.”
“Talk.”
“Vivien’s been stealing.”
“How much?”
“Forty-two million over four years.”
Dante’s face hardened.
“From Matteo?”
“From companies under Matteo’s umbrella.”
“And Elena found it.”
“Looks that way.”
Paul continued.
“Three weeks ago, Elena requested copies of vendor payments tied to a shell called Meridian Harbor Consulting.”
Dante knew the name.
“Vivien’s?”
“Controlled through her brother in Switzerland.”
“So Elena was getting close.”
“Very.”
Dante looked through the glass at Elena.
Vivien had not simply framed her.
She had placed records in Elena’s study that exposed enough of Matteo’s criminal money to make him believe his wife intended to destroy him.
Then she counted on his violence to solve her problem.
“What happens if Elena dies?” Dante asked.
“Vivien’s theft gets buried inside the larger Moretti accounts. Nobody separates her money from his.”
“And if Matteo gets arrested?”
“She still controls enough corporate access to move what’s left.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Smart.”
Paul was quiet.
“You almost sound impressed.”
“I’m impressed by loaded guns too. Doesn’t mean I want one pointed at me.”
Another call came through.
Unknown number.
Dante answered.
“Bellarosa.”
Matteo’s voice.
“I hear you’re at the hospital.”
Dante’s expression did not change.
“Then you hear well.”
“You have no business there.”
“I disagree.”
“My wife is my concern.”
Dante looked through the glass.
“No.”
Silence.
Matteo’s voice lowered.
“Be careful.”
Dante almost smiled.
“Matteo.”
“What?”
“You’re confusing me with people who are afraid of you.”
The line went quiet.
For all Matteo’s money and reputation, there were names he respected.
And one he feared.
Dante Bellarosa had known Matteo’s father.
Had known his grandfather.
And more importantly, had once ended a three-family war with a single meeting because everyone involved understood the alternative.
“I want you out of that hospital,” Matteo said.
Dante’s voice remained calm.
“Come remove me.”
Matteo said nothing.
“Better yet,” Dante continued, “come see your wife.”
Another silence.
“Unless you’re ashamed of what she looks like.”
The call ended.
Carol watched him put away the phone.
“That was reckless.”
“No.”
“It was provocative.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because guilty men reveal themselves when pride gets touched.”
Carol frowned.
“What do you expect him to do?”
“Something stupid.”
He was right.
Thirty-seven minutes later, hospital security called.
Matteo Moretti had arrived.
Not alone.
Six men.
Carol immediately stood.
“Absolutely not.”
Dante walked toward the elevators.
Matteo emerged wearing a black suit and the expression of a man entering property that belonged to him.
His eyes stopped on Dante.
Everything around them went quiet.
“Move.”
Dante did not.
“You’re not going into her room.”
“She is my wife.”
“She is a patient.”
Matteo stepped closer.
“You think you can tell me what I can do with my own family?”
Dante’s eyes changed.
“That sentence is why you’re standing out here.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“She fell.”
Dante laughed once.
It had no humor in it.
“Then your kitchen island learned how to break ribs.”
Several nurses looked over.
Matteo lowered his voice.
“You should stay out of things you don’t understand.”
“I understand you didn’t call an ambulance.”
That hit.
“How do you know?”
There.
Too fast.
Too defensive.
Dante saw it.
So did Carol.
Matteo realized his mistake.
His eyes hardened.
“Who have you been talking to?”
Dante stepped closer.
“Your wife’s driver.”
Matteo went still.
Gino.
For the first time, fear appeared.
Not much.
Enough.
Dante lowered his voice.
“You hit a pregnant woman, left her unconscious, sent someone else to carry her away, and then went to dinner.”
Matteo’s nostrils flared.
“You don’t know what she did.”
Dante stared at him.
“What did she do?”
“She betrayed me.”
“How?”
“She had financial records.”
“Whose?”
Matteo said nothing.
Dante watched the answer arrive in his face.
He knew.
At least part of it.
“Interesting,” Dante murmured.
“What?”
“You never asked whether somebody planted them.”
Matteo’s expression shifted.
Dante continued.
“Vivien Rinaldi entered your penthouse two hours before you came home.”
Matteo stared.
“No.”
“She opened Elena’s study.”
“You’re lying.”
“She used her access code.”
Matteo’s breathing changed.
“And the papers you found?” Dante asked. “Printer metadata points back to your corporate office.”
For the first time since arriving, Matteo looked uncertain.
Dante leaned closer.
“She wanted you angry.”
Matteo said nothing.
“She knew exactly what kind of man you were.”
That one landed.
Hard.
Matteo turned toward Elena’s room.
Dante moved in front of him.
“No.”
“I need to see her.”
“You needed to see her last night.”
Matteo’s voice broke.
“Get out of my way.”
Dante did not move.
“She is not awake to tell me she wants you in that room.”
“That is my son in there.”
Carol spoke for the first time.
“You don’t know that.”
Matteo turned sharply.
“What?”
Carol’s face stayed cold.
“You don’t know whether the baby is a boy.”
He stared.
“Elena never told you.”
Matteo said nothing.
Carol stepped forward.
“You were so busy controlling her that you never noticed she stopped telling you things.”
Matteo’s face went pale.
Behind them, an alarm suddenly sounded inside Elena’s room.
A nurse ran past.
Then another.
The obstetrician appeared.
“Move.”
Everyone stepped aside.
Through the glass, monitors flashed.
Carol’s heart stopped.
“What happened?”
A doctor called from inside.
“Fetal distress.”
Matteo lunged toward the door.
Dante caught his arm.
“Don’t.”
“That’s my child!”
A nurse emerged.
“We may need an emergency delivery.”
Matteo stared through the glass at Elena.
For the first time, the violence disappeared from his face.
And something worse replaced it.
Fear.
Real fear.
May you like
The kind that comes when a man finally understands he may have destroyed something he cannot buy back.
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