Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN HE WAS GOING TO MARRY
Matteo watched the chapel footage twice.
The second time, he did not swear.
That was how Adrian knew he was truly angry.
Bianca entered first.
Lorenzo followed.
They kissed.
Then Bianca pointed toward the safe.
The cameras had no audio.
They didn’t need it.
Lorenzo tried the false combination Adrian had deliberately mentioned in the study.
Three times.
Nothing.
Bianca paced.
Lorenzo struck the stone wall with his palm.
Then both left.
Adrian closed the video.
Matteo stared at him.
“You want them taken?”
“No.”
“Adrian.”
“Not yet.”
“They planted surveillance in your office.”
“Bianca did.”
“And Lorenzo is sleeping with your fiancée.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Thank you for clarifying.”
Matteo leaned back.
“I’m making sure the emotional portion of the evening has fully registered.”
“It has.”
“You’re remarkably calm.”
Adrian looked at the chapel feed.
“My father used to say anger is useful for five seconds.”
Matteo knew the rest.
“After that, it belongs to whoever caused it.”
Adrian stood.
“So I keep mine.”
He called the head of estate security.
Within an hour, every room Bianca regularly entered was quietly checked.
Four more devices were found.
One inside Adrian’s study.
One in the smaller library.
One behind a framed landscape in the dining room.
And one in the car Adrian used for private meetings.
Months.
Possibly longer.
“What was she collecting?” Matteo asked.
“Everything.”
“For Lorenzo?”
“Maybe.”
“Or somebody bigger.”
Adrian looked toward the windows.
Dawn had not yet broken.
“Find out.”
By seven, Bianca walked into breakfast wearing cream trousers and carrying wedding fabric samples.
“Good morning.”
Adrian looked up from his coffee.
“Morning.”
She kissed him.
He let her.
It required more self-control than putting a gun on a table ever had.
“Our florist needs a final answer.”
“About?”
“The white roses.”
“Get whatever you want.”
Bianca smiled.
“That is why I’m marrying you.”
The sentence would have sounded playful yesterday.
Today, it sounded honest.
Then Rosie’s voice came from the hallway.
“Mommy, I lost my bunny.”
Adrian’s eyes shifted.
Clara had returned.
He had told her she could take the week off with pay.
She refused.
“I need my job,” she said over the phone that morning. “And sitting in my apartment staring at the door will not make me less afraid.”
So she returned without Rosie.
Except apparently childcare had failed again.
Clara appeared in the doorway.
Her expression changed when she saw Bianca.
“Sorry. My sister canceled at the last minute.”
Bianca turned.
Rosie walked beside her mother carrying one shoe and no bunny.
The toddler looked directly at Bianca.
Then at her feet.
Bianca wore beige flats.
Rosie frowned.
Adrian saw recognition beginning.
He stood immediately.
“Rosie.”
She looked at him.
“I have something for you.”
Children could be diverted by magic words.
Rosie forgot Bianca and approached.
“What?”
Adrian opened a drawer.
Inside were three boxes.
Crayons.
Colored pencils.
Paper.
Rosie gasped.
“You got kid stuff.”
“Apparently I respond well to criticism.”
Clara gave him a look.
“You bought all this overnight?”
“Someone did.”
Rosie hugged the crayon box.
Bianca watched.
Her smile had become thin.
“I didn’t know you were opening a preschool.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Rosie gave me business advice yesterday.”
“Did she?”
Bianca’s gaze moved to the child.
Rosie opened her mouth.
Adrian interrupted.
“She said my office needs more green.”
Rosie nodded.
“Yes.”
Clara understood what he had done.
She took Rosie’s hand.
“Come on.”
Bianca watched them leave.
“Why is the maid bringing her child into the private wing?”
“She isn’t usually.”
“You never liked children running around.”
Adrian picked up his coffee.
“People change.”
Bianca studied him.
Then smiled again.
“I hope not too much.”
At eleven, Adrian called Lorenzo.
His cousin answered lazily.
“Morning.”
“Dinner tonight.”
“Can’t.”
“It wasn’t a question.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“I need to discuss port contracts.”
Lorenzo relaxed.
“Seven?”
“Eight.”
Adrian ended the call.
Matteo, sitting across the desk, shook his head.
“If I were him, I’d hear death in your voice.”
“That’s because you know me.”
By afternoon, Matteo’s people had traced the listening devices.
Not to law enforcement.
Not directly.
The transmitters connected intermittently to a receiver registered under a shell company in Delaware.
That company paid consulting fees to another firm.
The second firm belonged to Lorenzo.
But there was a third connection.
An encrypted storage subscription paid by someone named Victor Sayegh.
Matteo dropped the report on Adrian’s desk.
“You know him?”
Adrian did.
“Caruso’s accountant.”
Vincenzo Caruso controlled what remained of a rival organization across the river.
For six years, Adrian and Caruso maintained a cold peace.
No public war.
No unnecessary bodies.
Everyone earned money.
Everyone stayed alive.
Apparently Caruso had grown ambitious.
“Lorenzo sells information to Caruso,” Matteo said.
“Bianca collects it.”
“Why?”
Adrian stared toward the courtyard.
“We ask.”
Dinner began at eight.
Lorenzo arrived twenty minutes late.
Bianca wore green.
They sat across from each other.
Neither touched.
Neither looked too long.
People always thought secrecy meant avoiding obvious behavior.
It often meant performing normal behavior too carefully.
Adrian poured wine.
“To family.”
Lorenzo lifted his glass.
“Family.”
Bianca smiled.
Adrian almost admired the nerve.
Halfway through dinner, he mentioned the chapel.
Bianca’s fork paused.
Only for a fraction.
“The priest says we have mice,” Adrian said.
Lorenzo laughed.
“In the chapel?”
“Apparently something keeps triggering motion sensors.”
Bianca drank water.
“Maybe ghosts.”
Adrian looked at her.
“You believe in those?”
“No.”
“I’ve started.”
The silence lasted one beat too long.
Then Rosie wandered into the dining room.
Clara followed immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
Rosie held a paper.
“I made a horse.”
Adrian glanced at it.
It looked like a potato with legs.
“Excellent horse.”
Rosie walked directly toward him.
Then she saw Bianca.
She stopped.
Looked down.
Bianca was wearing red heels.
The same pair.
Rosie pointed.
“Those.”
Every adult in the room froze.
Clara moved first.
“Rosie.”
But the child continued.
“You wore those when you put the button under his desk.”
Silence.
Complete.
Bianca’s face emptied.
Lorenzo slowly put down his wine.
Clara grabbed Rosie.
Adrian stood.
Matteo appeared at the doorway.
Bianca laughed.
Too quickly.
“What is she talking about?”
Rosie frowned.
“The bad button.”
Bianca looked at Adrian.
“This is ridiculous.”
Adrian said nothing.
“Adrian.”
He lifted one hand.
Matteo closed the doors.
Lorenzo stood.
“Maybe I should go.”
“Sit down.”
Lorenzo stared at him.
Adrian did not raise his voice.
“Sit.”
He did.
Bianca looked toward Clara.
“You put her up to this?”
Clara went pale.
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
Adrian stepped between them.
“Careful.”
Bianca stared at him.
Then realization reached her.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
Her breathing changed.
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
Lorenzo moved toward the door.
Matteo blocked him.
Adrian looked at Bianca.
“Who receives the recordings?”
She crossed her arms.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Adrian took out his phone.
Played chapel footage.
Bianca watched herself kiss Lorenzo.
Nobody spoke.
When it ended, she looked at Lorenzo.
Not Adrian.
That told him something too.
“Adrian,” Lorenzo said, “I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“This isn’t what it looks like.”
Matteo actually laughed.
Adrian did not.
“What does it look like, Lorenzo?”
His cousin’s face hardened.
“Like you already decided.”
“Yes.”
Bianca’s eyes filled.
“Please.”
Adrian looked at her.
For ten months she had chosen flowers with him.
Selected invitations.
Discussed children.
Told him she loved him in the exact bedroom where one of her devices had captured private calls through the wall.
“Why?”
She looked down.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Her eyes moved toward Lorenzo.
Lorenzo whispered:
“Don’t.”
Bianca looked back at Adrian.
“Your uncle.”
Adrian frowned.
“My uncle is dead.”
Bianca shook her head.
“Not Salvatore.”
Her voice dropped.
“Gabriel.”
Matteo went still.
Adrian’s uncle Gabriel Morelli had disappeared seventeen years earlier after betraying Adrian’s father.
Most assumed he died.
Bianca swallowed.
“He’s alive.”
Adrian stared at her.
May you like
“And he’s coming home.”
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