Chapter 5 - WHAT VICTOR WAS REALLY PROTECTING
Victor Serrano arrived at the Costa estate at seven that evening.
No guards came into the room with him.
That meant something.
Either Damian still respected him.
Or wanted no audience for what came next.
Renato stood near the fireplace.
Marco stayed by the door.
I remained beside Beatrice because she had become agitated again.
Victor noticed me immediately.
His expression tightened.
“The maid.”
I smiled without warmth.
“Captain.”
His eyes moved to Damian.
“She belongs here?”
Damian answered.
“Yes.”
Victor looked at Beatrice.
Then at Gabriel’s watch on the table.
Something inside him changed.
He understood.
Damian held up the Pier token.
“Tell me about R-47.”
Victor’s face remained controlled.
“I haven’t heard that number in years.”
“Try.”
Victor sat.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he looked at Beatrice.
“I never wanted Gabriel dead.”
Damian’s jaw hardened.
“That is not where you begin.”
“It is where I need to.”
Victor’s voice was quieter now.
Eleven years earlier, Victor Serrano had been skimming money.
He admitted it.
Not from Damian.
From a network of side agreements tied to freight unions, independent trucking crews, and warehouse contractors.
It was illegal.
Dishonest.
And common enough that half the men around Arturo Costa benefited from similar arrangements.
The two million dollars in R-47 belonged to Victor.
Personal reserve.
Insurance for his family.
“Carlo had been threatened,” Victor said.
“By Bellandi?” Damian asked.
“I believed so.”
“Were you right?”
Victor hesitated.
“No.”
Another piece shifted.
Carlo had been receiving anonymous warnings.
Victor assumed they came from the Bellandis because Gabriel’s peace talks involved territory Carlo’s routes crossed.
He panicked.
He moved Carlo off his regular truck.
Then he moved R-47 into the route because it was the only vehicle immediately available.
“With two million in cash inside,” Damian said.
“Yes.”
“Gabriel knew?”
“No.”
“When R-47 disappeared near Pier Nineteen, what did you think?”
“That Bellandi had taken it.”
“But they hadn’t.”
“No.”
The truck was recovered hours later.
Cash gone.
Gabriel alive.
Peace talks exposed.
Two days later, money appeared in an account connected to Gabriel.
Victor assumed the worst.
“You thought my brother stole your cash and took payment from Bellandi.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell my father?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have proof?”
Victor looked down.
“No.”
Damian’s voice grew colder.
“But you had motive to make everyone believe it.”
“Yes.”
Victor accepted that.
I watched him carefully.
This was not a cartoon villain enjoying an old crime.
He looked like a man who had been carrying something heavy so long he had forgotten the difference between explanation and excuse.
“Did you create the account?” Damian asked.
“No.”
“Did you put your money in Gabriel’s name?”
“No.”
“Did you leak the peace talks?”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
Renato stepped forward.
“You followed him to the union hall.”
“Yes.”
“You threatened him.”
“I told him he was risking my son.”
“You told three captains he was selling us.”
Victor looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
Damian stared.
“That rumor became his reputation.”
“Yes.”
Beatrice suddenly spoke.
“You took the watch.”
Victor turned.
His face drained.
“No, Bea.”
She pointed at Gabriel’s watch.
“You took it off him.”
Victor closed his eyes.
Damian stood.
“What does she mean?”
Victor remained seated.
“When Gabriel died, I was there before the ambulance.”
Damian’s face changed.
“You told me you arrived afterward.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
Victor looked at Beatrice.
“Because Gabriel was conscious.”
The room became completely silent.
Damian’s voice dropped.
“What did he say?”
Victor rubbed one hand over his face.
“He told me I was wrong.”
“About?”
“The Bellandis.”
Damian stepped closer.
“What else?”
Victor looked at him.
“He said someone inside our side had taken the money from R-47.”
“Who?”
“He didn’t know.”
“Then why hide that?”
“Because he said one more thing.”
Victor swallowed.
“He said the peace agreement could still work.”
Damian stared.
“He was dying and he was still protecting the deal?”
“Yes.”
Victor’s voice cracked.
“He made me promise not to retaliate against Elena.”
That was not the Gabriel Damian had been taught to remember.
Not a traitor.
Not a greedy man.
A dying man trying to prevent retaliation.
“What did you do?” Damian asked.
“I promised.”
“And then?”
“I took his watch.”
“Why?”
“Because it had Bellandi initials engraved inside the back.”
Damian frowned.
Victor took the watch.
His fingers found the damaged edge.
He pressed.
The rear casing opened.
Inside, nearly invisible beneath years of tarnish, were three letters.
E.B.
Elena Bellandi.
Victor continued.
“I thought if Arturo saw it, he’d use it as proof Gabriel betrayed us.”
Damian looked at him.
“You protected Gabriel?”
“Too late.”
Victor handed the watch back.
“Then I spent eleven years letting everyone think the worst anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because by the next morning, your father had made the story official.”
“And challenging him would expose your stolen money.”
“Yes.”
There it was.
Victor had protected Gabriel for one moment.
Then protected himself for eleven years.
Damian looked disgusted.
“Who stole the cash?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I spent years trying to find out.”
Victor turned toward Renato.
“Ask him.”
Renato’s expression changed.
Damian noticed.
“Uncle.”
Renato looked tired.
“Victor came to me three months after Gabriel died.”
“With what?”
“A warehouse inventory stamp.”
Marco frowned.
“From R-47?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
Renato hesitated.
“I gave it to Arturo.”
Damian laughed bitterly.
“And naturally it disappeared.”
Renato shook his head.
“No.”
He looked toward Beatrice.
“Your mother took it.”
All eyes moved to her.
Beatrice had begun twisting the sleeve of my uniform.
“Where?” Damian asked gently.
She did not answer.
I sat beside her.
“Beatrice.”
Nothing.
I thought about what calmed her.
Food.
Texture.
Ordinary complaints.
My sister Ava’s red knitted scarf was still in my bag downstairs because I carried it everywhere during cold weather.
I had worn it almost every day while she was sick.
I asked Marco to bring it.
He returned two minutes later.
I wrapped the soft red wool around Beatrice’s shoulders.
She touched it.
Her breathing eased.
“My Ava made this,” I told her.
“My little sister.”
Beatrice looked at me.
“She died?”
The question hit unexpectedly.
“Yes.”
“Too young.”
“Yes.”
Her hand covered mine.
For one moment, she was not a patient.
Just another woman who understood losing someone too soon.
Then her eyes moved to Victor.
“Greenhouse.”
Damian leaned closer.
“What’s in the greenhouse?”
“Blue pot.”
Marco and Renato exchanged looks.
We went together.
The greenhouse stood behind the east wing.
Inside, beneath a dead lemon tree, sat a large blue ceramic planter.
Marco lifted it.
Taped beneath the base was a small metal stamp.
R-47.
And wrapped around it was a faded union receipt.
One signature appeared at the bottom.
RENATO COSTA.
Damian looked at his uncle.
Renato went white.
“You signed R-47 out of the warehouse.”
Silence.
Victor stared.
Even he seemed shocked.
Damian’s voice became almost a whisper.
“Was it you?”
Renato shook his head.
“No.”
“Then explain your signature.”
Renato looked at the stamp.
“I signed the truck out.”
“Why?”
“Because your father ordered me to.”
Damian froze.
May you like
Renato looked at him.
“Arturo knew the cash was in R-47 before Gabriel ever drove it.”
