Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BETRAY US
“Play it again.”
My voice sounded unfamiliar.
Nina Park looked at me, then at Dominic.
On the screen, my mother stood beside Victor Hale, handing him a small glass bottle.
Her words filled the office once more.
“Assicurati che Dominic non esca vivo da quella stanza.”
Make sure Dominic doesn't leave that room alive.
I had translated thousands of Italian sentences during college.
I understood regional dialects, historical grammar, and the subtle ways a single word could change the meaning of an agreement.
But there was nothing subtle about what my mother had said.
She had instructed a man to make sure Dominic Rinaldi died.
“Stop the recording,” I whispered.
Nina paused it.
Dominic stood beside the desk, staring at my mother's face.
“Did you know she was coming here tonight?”
“No.”
“Did she know you were working this dinner?”
“She knew I had a private event. I didn't tell her whose.”
He nodded once.
I hated how reasonable his questions sounded.
“Are you going to accuse me of helping her?”
Dominic met my eyes.
“If I thought you helped poison my wine, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”
Teresa Bellini sat near the window, clutching the handles of her purse.
“She wouldn't do this,” she murmured.
I turned on her.
“You've known my mother for thirty years. You know her real name. You know what happened to Dominic's father. So stop telling us what she wouldn't do and tell us what she actually did.”
Teresa looked wounded.
For a moment, I regretted my tone.
Then I remembered my brother.
“Please,” I added. “Eli doesn't even know any of this.”
Teresa removed a faded photograph from her purse.
Three women stood outside a brick building, smiling into the sunlight.
One was my mother, much younger.
Another was Teresa.
The third wore a cream-colored coat and held a toddler.
Dominic reached for the photograph.
His expression changed.
“My mother.”
Teresa nodded.
“Isabella Rinaldi.”
Dominic studied the image.
“Where was this taken?”
“Outside the old Bellmont Children's Hospital.”
He frowned.
“My father donated money there.”
“Your father owned the land beneath it.”
Teresa looked at me.
“And your mother helped Isabella discover what he was doing with the hospital's charitable assets.”
I stared at the photograph.
My mother had never mentioned Isabella Rinaldi.
Not once.
Teresa continued.
“The Bellmont Trust was created to protect hospital property and medical assistance funds. Over time, those properties became enormously valuable.”
Dominic lowered the photograph.
“My father told me the trust was absorbed into Rinaldi Holdings.”
“That's what the public records suggested,” Teresa said. “But the original agreement had restrictions. The trust's assets couldn't simply be converted into private wealth.”
“Who was supposed to enforce those restrictions?”
“Isabella.”
Dominic's face tightened.
“My mother died thirty years ago.”
“And your father died shortly afterward,” Teresa replied.
I could see him calculating.
Two deaths.
A hidden trust.
A poisoned glass.
And my mother standing in the middle of it.
Then Nina interrupted.
“I found something.”
She rotated her laptop.
The restaurant's security recording had an audio track, but the audio and video were stored separately.
“The clip we received was exported by the restaurant's security administrator,” she explained. “It's not the original recording.”
Dominic looked toward her.
“Victor.”
“His credentials were used.”
Nina opened a technical report.
“The audio cuts out for eleven seconds immediately before Elena speaks. The timestamp on the audio also jumps.”
My heart lifted.
“You mean someone edited it?”
“Someone edited the export,” Nina said. “We need the original to know what was removed.”
Dominic reached for his jacket.
“Then we get it.”
He instructed Nina to notify the police and preserve the restaurant's equipment.
I followed him into the hallway.
“Where are we going?”
“To speak with Victor before he disappears.”
But Victor had already left.
His security office was empty.
His badge lay on the desk beside a half-finished cup of coffee.
On the wall hung a framed photograph of his daughter graduating from college.
Dominic examined it.
“I've known Victor for nine years.”
“You trusted him?”
“With my life.”
“And now?”
Dominic looked at the abandoned badge.
“Now I don't know whether he was protecting someone or helping kill me.”
I noticed a narrow drawer beneath the desk.
It hadn't been closed properly.
Inside was a restaurant valet ticket.
A black luxury sedan had been collected at 9:17 p.m.
The license plate was written across the bottom.
“Can Nina find the driver?”
“She can ask the police to trace the vehicle.”
He took a photograph of the ticket.
Then we heard footsteps.
Celeste entered the office.
She looked at the empty desk, then at us.
“Victor's gone?”
Dominic didn't answer.
Her eyes settled on me.
“Of course she's still here.”
I was too frightened to be polite.
“Where's my brother?”
Celeste blinked.
“Your brother?”
“The university camera shows a woman carrying your handbag walking beside him.”
Her face changed.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
“I lent that bag to someone.”
“Who?”
She glanced at Dominic.
He stepped forward.
“Celeste, answer her.”
“My friend Evelyn.”
“What's her last name?”
Celeste looked down.
“Voss.”
The room went silent.
Samuel Voss's daughter.
Celeste rubbed her forehead.
“Evelyn called yesterday. She said her father was dealing with a family emergency and needed my help getting someone to a safe location.”
“Someone?” I repeated.
“She said a young man was being threatened because of his mother's employment history.”
“His name is Eli Bennett.”
Celeste's eyes widened.
“I didn't know.”
I wanted to believe her.
But she'd spent dinner humiliating me.
She had smiled when Victor threatened me.
And now my brother was missing.
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
Her expression hardened.
“You shouldn't. I wouldn't.”
That answer surprised me.
Dominic held up the photograph of his mother.
“Have you seen this bracelet?”
Celeste stared.
Then she touched her wrist.
“I wore that bracelet tonight.”
My blood ran cold.
“Where is it now?” Dominic asked.
“I gave it to Evelyn before dinner.”
“Why?”
“She told me it belonged to her grandmother. She wanted it repaired, and I knew a jeweler.”
Teresa stepped into the doorway behind us.
“That's a lie,” she said quietly.
Celeste turned.
Teresa pointed to the photograph.
“That bracelet belonged to Isabella Rinaldi. Samuel Voss took it from her after she died.”
Celeste's face drained.
“My God.”
Dominic looked at his cousin.
“Celeste. What exactly has Samuel promised you?”
She was silent for so long that I thought she wouldn't answer.
Then her shoulders dropped.
“He said he'd restore my father's reputation.”
Dominic stared at her.
“Your father's reputation?”
Celeste's eyes filled.
“Uncle Lorenzo spent thirty years telling everyone my father betrayed the family. Samuel said he had proof that wasn't true.”
I looked at Dominic.
For the first time, he seemed unable to speak.
Celeste wiped her cheek angrily.
“I thought this was about clearing my father's name. I didn't know anyone was going to die.”
A quiet sound came from Nina's phone.
She had followed us into the office.
“Dominic,” she said. “The police obtained a traffic camera image of Victor's car.”
She showed us the screen.
The sedan was stopped beside a loading entrance in Midtown.
Two men stood near the trunk.
One was Victor.
The other wore a dark suit and a blue tie.
On his wrist was a square silver watch with a cracked face.
Samuel Voss.
But it wasn't either man who made me grip the desk.
It was the person sitting in the back seat.
My brother.
Eli was looking directly toward the traffic camera.
His hands were visible against the window.
And he was holding up a small white card.
Nina enlarged it.
Three words were printed in my brother's familiar handwriting.
MOM IS THERE.
Below the message, he'd drawn an arrow.
It pointed toward the trunk.
Dominic studied the image.
Then he turned to me.
“Mara, I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
He looked at the photograph of his mother, then at the silver rosary in my hand.
“If Samuel has your mother and brother, he's not trying to silence witnesses anymore.”
“Then what does he want?”
Dominic's expression grew grim.
“He wants your mother to finish something she refused to do thirty years ago.”
Nina's screen refreshed.
A second image appeared, taken minutes later.
Victor was standing beside the open trunk.
My mother was climbing out.
And in her hands was the original Italian trust agreement.
May you like
Across its cover, in dark ink, were the words:
FINAL BENEFICIARY: MARA ELENA RINALDI.
