Chapter 7 - The Devil You Know
The cartel soldier crumpled to the Persian rug, dead before he hit the ground.
I clutched Caleb to my chest, my ears ringing from the deafening crack of the gunshot. In the doorway stood Vanessa. Her red silk engagement dress was torn, her perfect hair unraveled into a chaotic mess. The smoking silver pistol in her hand was shaking violently.
She stared at the dead man on the floor, then looked up at Matteo.
“I didn’t run,” Vanessa whispered, her voice trembling. “I hid in the coat closet. I saw him double back.”
Matteo didn’t lower his guard. He stepped between Vanessa and me, his own weapon still drawn and pointed squarely at his former fiancée’s chest.
“Drop it, Vanessa,” Matteo commanded, his voice cold as ice.
Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t drop the gun. Instead, she let out a bitter, jagged laugh. “You think I’m going to shoot you? After I just saved your new little family?” She gestured weakly toward me and Caleb with her free hand.
“I said drop the weapon,” Matteo repeated, the hammer of his gun clicking back.
Vanessa slowly opened her hand. The silver pistol hit the floor with a heavy thud. She kicked it away, raising both hands in surrender.
Arthur watched her from the sofa, his expression unreadable. “Why did you save them, Vanessa? Your mother sent that man back for the film.”
Vanessa wiped her face, smearing her makeup into dark bruises around her eyes. “Because Beatrice is a monster. And I am done being her pawn.” She looked at Matteo, her expression hardening. “She didn't just ruin your life, Matteo. She ruined mine. She forced me to lie to you. She forced me into this engagement so she could steal your fortune. But I actually loved you.”
Matteo’s jaw clenched. “Don't talk to me about love. You knew she killed my father.”
“I didn't know!” Vanessa screamed, her voice cracking. “I swear to you, Matteo! I thought he drowned! She only told me the truth about the emerald and the cartel two days ago. When she realized she couldn't pay them, she panicked. She needed me to marry you tonight so she could forge your signature on the offshore transfers.”
Matteo stared at her, searching her face for the lie. In the mafia, trust was a luxury that usually got you killed.
I slowly stood up, keeping Caleb behind me. I looked at the microfilm still resting in Matteo’s palm.
“If Beatrice is gone with the Cartel,” I said softly, “why did this man come back for the film? How did he even know David hid it?”
The room went terrifyingly still.
Arthur’s face went pale. He looked at the dead soldier on the floor. He leaned forward, squinting at the tattoo on the dead man’s exposed wrist. It wasn't the Cartel’s symbol. It was a black serpent wrapped around a dagger.
“He’s not Cartel,” Arthur whispered, terror bleeding into his voice. “He’s a Syndicate mercenary.”
Matteo’s head snapped toward his father. “The Syndicate? The Russians? What the hell does Beatrice have to do with them?”
Arthur closed his eyes, looking older and more fragile than I had ever seen him. “Beatrice didn't just steal from the family to pay the Cartel, Matteo. She stole from the Syndicate, too. She played them against each other.”
Vanessa gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh my God. If the Syndicate knows she’s with the Cartel…”
“They’ll start a war in the streets of this city,” Matteo finished, his voice grim. He looked at the tiny piece of microfilm in his hand. “And this film doesn't just hold the proof of her embezzlement. It holds the account numbers. The only way to pay the Russians off and stop the bloodshed.”
Matteo turned to his head of security, who had just rushed into the room. “Lock down the perimeter. No one leaves. Get the laptop. We need to read this film right now.”
The guard nodded and ran to the desk, booting up a secure computer and pulling out a USB microscope scanner. Matteo handed him the microfilm.
We all gathered around the heavy oak desk, holding our breath as the guard scanned the tiny strip of plastic. A moment later, a heavily encrypted ledger appeared on the large monitor.
Rows and rows of bank transfers, hidden accounts, and shell companies. Millions of dollars siphoned away over a decade.
But as Matteo scrolled down to the bottom of the document, the financial records stopped.
There was a folder labeled Personal.
Matteo clicked it.
A single photograph appeared on the screen.
It was an old, grainy security camera image from a hospital room, dated fifteen years ago.
In the bed lay a woman, heavily bandaged, holding a newborn baby. Standing next to the bed was Beatrice, handing the woman a thick envelope of cash.
Matteo stared at the screen, his breath catching in his throat.
“What is this?” Matteo demanded, looking at his father.
Arthur’s hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the desk. He looked at the date on the photo. Then, he looked at Vanessa.
Vanessa was staring at the screen, her face drained of all color. She looked like she had seen a ghost.
“That’s… that’s my mother,” Vanessa whispered, pointing at the woman in the hospital bed. “But… I was ten years old when this was taken. Who is the baby?”
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Arthur closed his eyes, a tear escaping down his cheek.
“Vanessa,” Arthur said gently. “Beatrice isn't your mother. The woman in the bed is your mother. And the baby she’s holding… is Matteo’s younger brother.”
