Chapter 3 - Elena’s Last Words
Matteo read the sentence three times.
IF I’M RIGHT, DOMINIC KNOWS WHY.
He knew his wife’s handwriting the way he knew the weight of his own gun. Elena made her capital I’s too tall. Her R leaned backward. She pressed harder on the final letter of every word.
This was hers.
Dominic stood in the doorway.
“Give me the photograph.”
Matteo looked up. “Why was it hidden in your office?”
“It wasn’t hidden.”
Mia pointed at the hollow behind the book. “It was very hidden.”
Grace coughed softly.
Dominic ignored them both. “Elena gave me that photograph days before the crash.”
“Why?”
“Because she was paranoid.”
Matteo’s face changed.
Grace saw it and instinctively placed a hand on Mia’s shoulder.
Dominic raised both palms. “I loved Elena. You know that. But during those last weeks, she became convinced someone inside the family was leaking schedules. She suspected everyone.”
“Did she suspect you?”
“She suspected whoever happened to irritate her that day.”
“Watch how you speak about my wife.”
Dominic exhaled. “This is exactly why I kept it from you.”
Matteo almost laughed. “You kept evidence connected to her death from me for three years for my emotional protection?”
“I kept one photograph because you were tearing Chicago apart looking for someone to punish.”
Grace looked at Matteo.
He did not deny it.
After Elena’s death, three Ferraro warehouses had burned. Two men had vanished. One had been found alive only because Matteo learned, at the last moment, that the man had been in Detroit the night of the crash.
Grief had not made Matteo cruel. Power had already given him that capacity. Grief had simply taken away the part of him that cared about restraint.
Mia tugged Grace’s sleeve. “Can I go to bed now?”
The adults seemed to remember she was there.
Matteo crouched. “Yes.”
“Will Grace tuck me in?”
He looked at Grace.
“Yes.”
Dominic shook his head. “She should not be alone with Mia.”
Mia’s face crumpled.
Matteo stood so quickly the child startled.
He immediately lowered his voice. “Dominic, leave.”
“You’re trusting a woman who lied her way into your house.”
“I said leave.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened. “Fine. But when this turns ugly, remember I tried to protect you.”
He walked out.
Matteo waited until his footsteps disappeared.
Then he handed the photograph to Grace.
“Have you seen this before?”
“No.”
“Take Mia upstairs.”
Grace hesitated. “What are you going to do?”
“Learn what my wife was afraid of.”
Mia put both hands on her hips. “Daddy.”
He looked down.
“You said when I’m scared I can call you.”
“I did.”
“I’m scared now.”
The admission landed with startling force.
Matteo looked at the office, at the photograph, at the door his brother had just passed through. Every instinct trained into him said the answer was to send Mia away, surround her with guards, and return when danger was solved.
That was what he had done for three years.
And she had learned to call someone else.
He held out his hand.
“Then I’m coming too.”
Mia smiled.
The three of them walked to her room.
It was the least Moretti room in the entire estate. Pale yellow walls. Shelves of picture books. A crooked paper moon taped above the bed. Grace had apparently allowed Mia to cover one expensive antique wardrobe with star stickers.
Matteo stared at it.
Grace followed his eyes. “She asked permission.”
“Did she?”
“Eventually.”
Mia climbed into bed and placed the stuffed rabbit beside her pillow.
“Story.”
Matteo looked at Grace.
Grace looked at Matteo.
“You’re the one who came,” she said.
He had negotiated labor contracts, territorial agreements, and the peaceful surrender of men who had sworn to kill him. None of that prepared him to choose a bedtime story.
Mia solved the problem by handing him a battered book about a bear who hated winter.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
His reading voice was terrible.
Mia interrupted constantly.
Grace sat in the chair by the window trying not to laugh.
For ten minutes, the Moretti empire survived without him.
When Mia finally drifted to sleep, Matteo closed the book and remained there, looking at her.
“She sleeps like Elena,” he said.
Grace’s expression softened.
“You loved her very much.”
It was not a question.
“I still do.”
“I know.”
He looked at Grace. “You knew her for eleven minutes.”
“No.”
Matteo frowned.
Grace stood.
“I knew Elena for six years.”
He did not move.
Grace glanced toward Mia before continuing.
“We went to nursing school together.”
Matteo’s eyes sharpened. “Elena never went to nursing school.”
“She did for one semester before her father pulled her out.”
“That was before I met her.”
“Yes.”
“How close were you?”
Grace stared at the floor. “Close enough that she called me two weeks before she died.”
Matteo rose slowly.
“You left that out downstairs.”
“I was trying to tell you in order.”
“I don’t care about order anymore.”
Grace accepted the anger.
“Elena called because she was scared. She said someone had been using your security system to track her movements. She believed a person inside the house knew every time she took Mia out.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She said you were already dealing with a war and that you would react exactly the way you reacted after she died.”
He looked away.
That sounded like Elena.
“What did she ask you to do?”
“Nothing at first. She just wanted someone outside the family to know.”
“And later?”
“Three days before the crash, she mailed me a key.”
Matteo looked back at her.
“A key to what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You still have it?”
Grace nodded.
“Where?”
“My apartment.”
Matteo swore under his breath.
“Why would you bring the ring into my house but leave the key somewhere else?”
“Because nobody knew about the key.”
“They may now.”
A faint sound came from the hallway.
Grace turned.
Matteo raised one finger, signaling silence.
Another sound.
Not footsteps.
A soft electronic chirp.
Matteo crossed to Mia’s doorway and looked into the hall.
Nothing.
Then the light above the security camera at the far end of the corridor blinked red.
Once.
Twice.
Matteo stared at it.
Those cameras were not supposed to record audio.
He pulled out his phone and called the head technician directly.
“Can anyone listen through the interior cameras?”
A pause.
“Not through the standard system, sir.”
“Standard?”
“There’s an administrator override, but only two accounts have access.”
Matteo’s eyes stayed on the blinking red light.
“Mine and whose?”
The technician hesitated.
“Mr. Dominic Moretti’s.”
Grace went pale.
Matteo ended the call.
“Pack a bag.”
“What?”
“We’re going to your apartment.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Grace looked toward Mia. “And her?”
Matteo looked at his sleeping daughter.
He knew what his old instincts would say.
Leave her. Guard her. Handle the threat.
Instead, he picked up the little girl carefully, blanket and all.
Mia stirred against his chest but did not wake.
“She comes with us.”
Grace stared.
“For once,” Matteo said, “I’m not leaving my daughter behind while I go deal with the reason she’s afraid.”
They reached the servants’ entrance twelve minutes later.
Matteo’s driver opened the armored SUV.
Then his phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
One photograph appeared on the screen.
Grace’s apartment door.
Open.
May you like
The message beneath it contained five words.
THE KEY ISN’T YOURS ANYMORE.
