Chapter 4 - THE CHAPEL BENEATH THE CEDARS
We found Anthony’s abandoned car near the Connecticut border.
Blood marked the driver’s seat.
No body.
No phone.
No Anthony.
Marco wanted to send twenty men to my father’s old estate.
I refused.
“If Bellini knows we’re coming, numbers won’t help us.”
Emma stood beside the SUV.
“You’re not going without me.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Juliana gave me the clue.”
“And that nearly got you killed.”
“It may also be the only reason you know where to look.”
I stared at her.
She stared back.
That stubbornness reminded me of Juliana so sharply that I almost hated her for it.
“You stay beside Marco.”
“Fine.”
“That wasn’t permission to negotiate.”
“Good. Because I wasn’t asking.”
Marco turned away to hide what might have been a smile.
Two hours later, we entered the Pellegrini family estate outside Greenwich.
Nobody had lived there since my father died.
The house remained maintained but empty.
Behind it stood a small stone chapel built by my grandfather.
Cedar trees surrounded the graveyard.
Bells beneath the cedar roots.
We searched the chapel first.
Nothing.
Then Emma walked toward the oldest cedar.
She crouched.
“There.”
Half buried beneath the soil was a brass bell no larger than my thumb.
A decoration.
Or a marker.
Marco dug around the roots.
His shovel struck metal.
Under the earth sat a narrow waterproof case.
Inside were three flash drives, a handwritten ledger, and a sealed letter.
The envelope had my name on it.
My hands shook for the first time in years.
I opened it.
Lorenzo,
If you are reading this, I failed to tell you myself.
That was the first line.
I had to stop.
Emma stepped away to give me privacy.
I continued.
Juliana explained that she discovered Cedar House money was funding illegal medical procurement.
Carlo Bellini and several investors had created a secret network around experimental oncology treatments.
Some treatments were legitimate drugs being redirected from authorized trials.
Others were unapproved compounds.
Children were entered into fraudulent databases.
Families were charged enormous amounts.
Records were manipulated to hide failures.
But the next paragraph changed everything.
Anthony helped me copy the files. Do not blame him if he lies to protect me. He is afraid of what Carlo has become.
I looked at Marco.
“Anthony was helping her.”
Marco nodded grimly.
I kept reading.
Then came Sophia’s name.
Carlo had ordered genetic screening on several children connected to wealthy families.
Sophia had been screened without my knowledge.
Her rare marker made her medically interesting to Bellini’s network.
Juliana discovered he had kept biological samples from Sophia’s birth.
Not because Sophia was sick.
Because he believed children with that marker might respond unusually to a class of immune therapies being developed.
I felt physically ill.
My daughter had been six months old.
Carlo had treated her like property.
The letter continued.
If Sophia ever becomes ill, do not let Carlo control her treatment. Take the original genetic records to an independent oncology center. Make decisions with doctors who have no relationship to our family.
At the bottom, Juliana had written one final sentence.
And please, Lorenzo, do not become the man your enemies expect you to become. Sophia will need her father more than she will ever need revenge.
I closed my eyes.
Even dead, Juliana knew me.
Emma approached.
“What does it say?”
I handed her the letter.
She read silently.
Marco plugged one flash drive into an isolated laptop.
Hundreds of documents appeared.
Financial transfers.
Medical files.
Names.
Dates.
Photographs.
Then a video.
Juliana.
My heart stopped.
She sat in what looked like this very chapel.
Alive.
Her hair pulled back.
Fear in her eyes.
“If Lorenzo sees this,” she said on the recording, “something has happened to me.”
I lowered myself onto a pew.
Juliana explained everything she knew.
Bellini’s operation.
The altered trial data.
The stolen medications.
The private buyers.
Then she said something that made Emma gasp.
“Carlo is not acting alone. Someone inside Lorenzo’s organization is protecting him.”
A list appeared on the screen.
Three suspected names.
Two men were dead.
The third was Marco DeLuca.
Nobody moved.
I turned slowly.
Marco’s face had gone white.
“That’s wrong.”
Emma stepped away from him.
Marco raised both hands.
“Lorenzo, I swear—”
I drew my gun.
“Give me yours.”
He stared at me.
“Now.”
Marco removed his weapon and placed it on the floor.
“I didn’t betray Juliana.”
“Her file says otherwise.”
“Then somebody wanted her to believe I did.”
My phone vibrated.
A video message.
Sophia’s room.
Empty.
The bed was stripped.
I called the estate.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Emma looked over my shoulder.
“Where is she?”
I called Teresa.
Disconnected.
Security.
Disconnected.
Then the screen changed.
A live video appeared.
Sophia was sitting in a chair somewhere dark.
Teresa was beside her, crying.
A man stepped into frame.
Anthony.
Blood stained his shirt.
But he was alive.
For one second, relief flooded me.
Then Anthony raised a gun and pointed it toward the camera.
“Sorry, cousin.”
My relief died.
A second figure appeared behind him.
Carlo Bellini.
He smiled.
“You found Juliana’s insurance policy.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What do you want?”
“The drives.”
“You already know there are copies.”
“I know Juliana better than you think. Those are the only complete originals.”
I looked toward the case.
Carlo continued.
“Bring them back to New York.”
“If you hurt Sophia—”
He laughed.
“Still threatening people when you’re frightened. Juliana always hated that.”
I could barely hear myself over the blood pounding in my ears.
“Where?”
“You’ll receive instructions.”
The screen went black.
I turned toward Marco.
He still had his hands raised.
Emma stared between us.
Juliana’s video had named him.
My daughter was gone.
My cousin appeared to be working with the man responsible.
And somewhere between Connecticut and New York, every instinct I possessed was screaming for blood.
Then Emma pointed at the frozen video frame.
“Wait.”
She enlarged Anthony’s image.
“What?”
“Look at his left hand.”
Anthony’s fingers were curled against his leg.
Three fingers extended.
Two closed.
Then three extended again.
“What does that mean?”
Emma looked at me.
“It’s not random.”
She replayed the clip.
Three.
Two.
Three.
My heart kicked.
“323.”
Marco spoke.
“Pier 323.”
I looked at him.
He nodded.
“One of our old Brooklyn warehouses.”
Anthony wasn’t betraying me.
May you like
He was telling me where they had taken my daughter.
And if Bellini discovered what he had done, Anthony would be the first person to die.
