Chapter 3 - What Adeline Saw Before Vincent Fell
The bank opened Box 317 under court-observed security because Vincent refused to touch anything alone.
That irritated half his family.
It pleased Camille.
Inside were three envelopes.
A flash drive.
A ledger.
And one handwritten note from Isabella.
If Vincent is alive, give this to him.
If he is dead, give it to Camille Boudreaux.
Vincent read the line twice.
Marcus looked toward Camille.
She looked sick.
“Why you?” Vincent asked.
“I don’t know.”
The first envelope contained photographs.
Rafael Castellano meeting privately with Dock Nine contractors.
Vincent’s father handing something to Mateo Ruiz.
Isabella watching from a distance.
The second contained copies of payments.
Millions moving through old family entities.
The third held a death certificate.
Mateo Ruiz.
Except one detail was wrong.
The medical examiner signature belonged to a doctor who had retired three years before Mateo died.
Vincent stared.
“Fake?”
Marcus nodded.
“At least altered.”
Camille stood abruptly.
“What does that mean?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Her face changed.
“No.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Camille.”
“No.”
“Possibly—”
“No.”
She backed away.
“You don't get to tell me my husband might be alive after seven years.”
Vincent understood.
Hope could be crueler than certainty.
They opened the flash drive.
Isabella appeared on screen.
No makeup.
Hair tied back.
Afraid.
“Vincent, if you’re watching this, something went wrong.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“I’ve been tracking Rafael for five years.”
Marcus muttered a curse.
Isabella continued.
“Dad knew part of it. Not all.”
She explained.
Rafael had built a shadow freight network through Castellano-controlled docks before Vincent inherited the companies.
Drugs.
Weapons.
Cash.
Nothing Vincent hadn't feared.
Then Isabella said something unexpected.
“Mateo Ruiz discovered it.”
Camille gripped the table.
“He tried to report through Dad.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
His father.
Again.
“Dad told Rafael.”
Camille whispered, “Of course.”
“Rafael ordered Mateo removed.”
The word removed hung in the air.
“But Mateo survived.”
Camille sat.
Not crying.
Not breathing properly either.
Vincent glanced at Marcus.
He was equally stunned.
“Rafael’s men staged the death because Mateo agreed to disappear in exchange for Camille’s safety.”
Camille’s face broke.
“No.”
Isabella’s recording continued.
“Mateo believed leaving would save his wife.”
Camille whispered:
“It didn’t save Mia.”
Nobody spoke.
“Years later,” Isabella said, “he learned about the break-in that killed his daughter. He came back.”
Camille covered her mouth.
“Rafael found out.”
Isabella looked directly into the camera.
“Since then, they’ve been hunting each other.”
Vincent paused the video.
“You knew none of this?”
Camille looked at him with rage.
“No.”
They continued.
Isabella had been secretly helping Mateo gather evidence.
Why?
Guilt.
At twenty-one, she had overheard part of the original plan but said nothing because she feared their father.
Her silence helped Rafael act.
She had lived with it for years.
Then came the attack on Vincent.
“I believe Rafael is planning to remove Vincent and blame me.”
There.
The red shoes.
“Yesterday, someone stole my access credentials.”
Vincent looked at Marcus.
That explained the gate.
“I am leaving the estate to find Mateo before Rafael does.”
Isabella continued.
“If Vincent is attacked, I did not do it.”
The recording ended.
Camille sat frozen.
Vincent looked at the altered death certificate.
“Mateo is alive.”
“Maybe.”
“You heard her.”
“She could be lying.”
“You think Isabella created all this?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
Fair.
Vincent said quietly:
“You want to find him.”
Camille’s eyes filled.
“I want to know why he let me bury him.”
There was no answer that would make that hurt less.
Then Marcus entered from the hallway.
“We have a new problem.”
“Define new.”
“Adeline remembered something.”
Camille stood.
“What?”
Clara had been playing dolls with her.
Adeline reenacted finding Vincent.
But this time she added another person.
A man leaving through the garden doors.
Vincent frowned.
“She said the lady hurt me.”
“No,” Marcus replied.
“She said the lady was there.”
“Difference?”
“She told Clara the man made ‘Uncle Vin red.’”
Vincent’s gaze sharpened.
“What man?”
“Tall. Gray hair.”
Camille looked at him.
“Rafael?”
“Maybe.”
Marcus continued.
“She said the red-shoe lady yelled.”
Vincent understood.
Isabella hadn't attacked him.
She witnessed it.
Possibly interrupted it.
“Why didn't Addie say that yesterday?”
Camille looked at him as though he were stupid.
“She’s two.”
Fair.
Vincent smiled faintly.
“What else?”
“Adeline said the man had a cane.”
Vincent knew only one family member who routinely used a cane.
Not Rafael.
Their cousin.
Anthony Castellano.
Sixty-three.
Former judge.
Family attorney before Raymond Cole took over.
Vincent’s godfather.
The man everyone called Uncle Tony even though he was technically their cousin.
Marcus looked grim.
“Anthony was here yesterday.”
Vincent’s chest tightened.
“He left before lunch.”
“According to logs.”
“Where now?”
“Home.”
“Bring him.”
Marcus hesitated.
“What?”
“You’re recovering.”
“I noticed.”
“No.”
Vincent looked at him.
Marcus corrected:
“I’ll invite him.”
Camille almost smiled.
Anthony arrived two hours later.
Silver hair.
Dark cane.
Perfect navy suit.
He walked into the estate library as though nothing were wrong.
“Vincent.”
“Tony.”
“I heard you had an accident.”
Vincent stared.
“Interesting word.”
Anthony smiled.
“Is stabbing not an accident?”
“You tell me.”
Anthony’s expression barely changed.
Camille sat across the room.
Adeline was upstairs.
Marcus stood near the door.
Vincent placed the black cufflink on the table.
Anthony looked at it.
“Rafael’s?”
“Yes.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Addie saw a man with a cane.”
Anthony glanced toward Camille.
“A toddler.”
“She saved my life.”
“That doesn’t qualify her as credible.”
Vincent became very still.
“You sound worried.”
“I sound reasonable.”
Vincent leaned forward carefully.
“Where were you yesterday at 1:30?”
“Court.”
“You retired.”
“Lunch with Judge Palmer.”
“We checked.”
Anthony's face changed.
Tiny.
Enough.
“He canceled.”
“Yes.”
“So where were you?”
Anthony looked toward Marcus.
Then Vincent.
“You’re accusing me based on a toddler’s memory.”
“No.”
Vincent placed another item on the table.
A surveillance still.
Anthony entering the estate service road at 1:08.
Using a maintenance vehicle.
His face partially visible.
“Based on this.”
Anthony’s composure cracked.
Only for a second.
Then he smiled.
“You've always been better than Rafael said.”
Vincent’s pulse slowed.
“You stabbed me.”
Anthony said nothing.
“Why?”
“You weren't supposed to survive.”
Camille inhaled sharply.
Marcus’s hand moved toward his weapon.
Vincent remained seated.
“Why frame Isabella?”
“Because she had become sentimental.”
“Helping Mateo.”
“Yes.”
“Rafael ordered it?”
Anthony laughed.
“No.”
Vincent frowned.
“Then who?”
Anthony looked almost amused.
“You all still think Rafael is the center of everything.”
He stood.
Marcus moved.
Anthony raised one hand.
“I’m unarmed.”
“Sit.”
Anthony ignored him.
Vincent said quietly:
“Who ordered my death?”
Anthony looked directly at Camille.
“No one ordered it.”
May you like
Then at Vincent.
“The family voted.”
