Chapter 4 - Marco’s Last Name
Marco Bellini did not defend himself.
That frightened Dante more than anger would have.
The payment records showed Bellini Risk Group received eighty thousand dollars from North Coast Holdings over two years.
The dates overlapped Camila’s illness.
Dante’s poisoning.
And three suspicious medical incidents involving Moretti men.
Marco sat in the library with his hands flat on the table.
“My father owned Bellini Risk Group.”
“Owned?”
“Until he died.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“Who runs it now?”
“My cousin.”
“Name.”
“Enzo Bellini.”
Dante knew him.
Everyone did.
Enzo had managed private security contracts across Chicago for decades.
Polished.
Respectable.
Never formally part of the Moretti organization.
Close enough to benefit.
Far enough to deny.
Marco looked at Elena.
“I didn’t know.”
She crossed her arms.
“Everybody says that.”
He accepted the hit.
“You’re right.”
Dante opened the ledger.
“North Coast paid your family company for medical consulting.”
“We don’t do medical consulting.”
“Exactly.”
Marco looked at the amount.
“Money laundering.”
“Maybe.”
“Or payment for access.”
Dante’s voice hardened.
“Access to what?”
Marco closed his eyes.
“Schedules. Residences. Medical staff.”
Silence.
Marco had designed security protocols for half the organization.
If Enzo used Bellini Risk Group as a back door, Julian could learn who was sick, when they traveled, what they took, and where they ate.
Mara advised immediate suspension.
Marco handed over his weapon and badge without protest.
Dante hated doing it.
He did it anyway.
“You stay off estate systems until cleared.”
Marco nodded.
“Understood.”
“You do not contact Enzo.”
“Understood.”
“You do not investigate.”
That one hurt.
Marco looked at him.
“Boss.”
“Not negotiable.”
Marco stood.
Lily appeared at the library doorway.
“Uncle Marco?”
Everyone froze.
She called him uncle because he taught her to whistle.
Children had no respect for organizational charts.
Marco forced a smile.
“Hey, bug.”
“Why are you leaving?”
“Work.”
“You look sad.”
“I’m fine.”
Lily stared.
“No, you’re not.”
Marco laughed once.
Then knelt.
“Maybe a little.”
She handed him Bunny.
He looked at the stuffed rabbit.
“What’s this?”
“You can borrow him.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
Marco took Bunny carefully.
“Thanks.”
“Bring him back.”
“Promise.”
Dante watched the exchange.
Trust under investigation looked cruel from a child’s height.
But he did not reverse the decision.
That mattered.
The old Dante would have protected Marco because loyalty felt like evidence.
The new Dante demanded evidence because loyalty deserved truth.
Mara searched Bellini Risk Group’s office.
Enzo’s attorney objected.
Warrants answered.
Investigators found internal emails showing Julian requested “wellness schedules” for Moretti staff.
One message mentioned Dante directly.
Need updated med list before next phase.
Next phase.
Mara read it twice.
“What phase?”
No one knew.
Then they found a spreadsheet.
Names.
Dates.
Symptoms.
Responses.
It looked like a clinical trial.
Except nobody had consented.
Julian and Enzo had been testing combinations of sedatives on targets associated with the Moretti organization.
Why?
Control.
Some victims became too weak to attend meetings.
Others made bad decisions while impaired.
One signed over property.
Another transferred a nightclub.
Camila discovered the money trail because North Coast handled shell properties used in those transfers.
She had not been targeted because she was Moretti.
She was targeted because she saw the pattern.
Dante’s recent poisoning had a larger goal.
A signature.
His legal team found an unsigned merger packet on his desk from two days earlier.
Had he signed while impaired, a controlling interest in three Moretti logistics properties would shift to a consortium.
The consortium’s hidden beneficiary?
Enzo Bellini.
Marco read the evidence in Mara’s office.
He looked physically ill.
“My cousin.”
“Yes.”
“My father’s company.”
“Yes.”
He leaned back.
“I brought him into three security meetings.”
Mara said nothing.
“He knew everything.”
“Maybe.”
Marco laughed bitterly.
“You sound like Dante.”
“That an insult?”
“Depends on the day.”
Dante met Marco that evening.
No guards.
No performance.
“Do you believe me?” Marco asked.
Dante answered honestly.
“Yes.”
Marco looked relieved.
Then Dante added:
“But belief isn’t enough.”
Marco nodded.
“I know.”
That sentence saved something between them.
Elena watched from the hallway.
She understood.
Camila had died partly because people treated respected titles as proof of goodness.
Doctor.
Employer.
Consultant.
Family.
Nobody was going to make that mistake again.
Then Mara’s phone rang.
Enzo Bellini had vanished.
His office safe was empty.
Julian remained missing.
And a security camera caught both men entering the same private airfield outside Chicago less than an hour earlier.
Marco moved into a hotel during the investigation.
He said it was simpler.
Lily hated it.
She called him every night to ask whether Bunny had eaten.
Marco answered seriously.
“Carrots.”
“Too many carrots are bad.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You’re irresponsible.”
Dante overheard one call and laughed.
Marco heard.
“Boss?”
“Nothing.”
“You laughed.”
“No.”
“Witnessed.”
Lily shouted into the phone:
“He did!”
That tiny normality made the investigation bearable.
Meanwhile, Enzo’s company records showed he had exploited family ties for years.
He used Marco’s name in meetings.
Mentioned Luca’s trust.
Allowed clients to assume Bellini Risk Group acted with Moretti approval.
Marco read one email:
Marco will smooth any issue with Dante.
He looked sick.
“I never said that.”
“No,” Mara said. “He relied on people assuming you would.”
The pattern was familiar.
Reputation doing work without instruction.
Dante saw the resemblance to his own world.
Men often acted “for the boss” because fear filled gaps better than written orders.
That night he called three captains.
“From now on, nobody uses my name to authorize anything without written confirmation.”
One laughed.
“Boss, that’s not how this works.”
“It is now.”
“Paper trails?”
“Yes.”
“You serious?”
“Yes.”
The captain sighed like civilization had ended.
Dante hung up.
Marco, listening, said:
“You’re turning organized crime into municipal government.”
“Temporary problem.”
“Which part?”
“Organized crime.”
Marco stared.
That was the first time Dante said it aloud.
Not reform.
End.
Marco understood.
Before Marco left the estate, Dante gave him one more order.
“Do not apologize to me.”
Marco frowned.
“Why?”
“Because if you’re innocent, you don’t apologize for Enzo.”
Marco looked at him.
“You believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
Dante almost smiled.
“Recent development.”
Marco nodded slowly.
That distinction mattered.
Family created connection.
Not transferred guilt.
The idea was new in a world where sons inherited debts and cousins inherited enemies.
Elena heard the exchange and remembered every time she had apologized for Camila’s choices simply because they were sisters.
Maybe people carried too much that way.
Names.
Blood.
History.
Lily certainly did not.
To her, Marco was the man who returned Bunny.
May you like
Enzo was someone she had never met.
That simplicity was healthier than half the adult codes Dante had lived by.
