Chapter 3 - THE WATCH THAT STOPPED AT 8:14
“Then Vanessa is going to answer for attempted murder.”
Vincent's voice echoed through the empty ballroom.
Grace immediately stepped in front of him.
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“No?”
“Not until we understand what happened six years ago.”
“Grace, someone tampered with that silk tonight.”
“And if you storm into Vanessa's house threatening her, every piece of evidence will disappear.”
Vincent looked toward Luca.
His security chief gave a reluctant nod.
“She's right, boss.”
For a moment, Grace saw the man everyone feared.
Then Vincent closed his fists and forced himself to listen.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to visit someone.”
The following morning, Grace returned to Brooklyn for the first time in nearly three years.
Marta Vega lived above a modest dance studio on a street filled with bakeries, laundromats, and small family businesses.
At sixty-two, Marta still walked with the posture of a professional dancer, although arthritis had stiffened her fingers.
She had trained Grace from the age of eleven.
She had also been the last person to speak to Thomas Mitchell before his reputation collapsed.
When Marta opened the door and saw Vincent standing behind Grace, her smile disappeared.
“A Moretti?”
Grace nodded.
“We need to talk about Starlight.”
Marta stepped aside.
Inside, photographs of former circus performers covered the walls.
Grace spotted herself in one of them, hanging upside down with both arms extended.
She was seventeen.
Happy.
Fearless.
For a moment, the sight almost broke her.
Marta noticed.
“Your father took that picture.”
Grace touched the frame.
“I know.”
They sat around a small kitchen table.
Vincent placed the photograph from Vanessa's collection between them.
Marta read the message on the back.
Her expression hardened.
“I wondered when that photograph would appear again.”
Grace stared.
“You've seen it?”
“Not that exact print. But I saw the photographer taking it.”
Marta explained that the Whitmore Arts Foundation had sponsored the final Starlight benefit before the pavilion's planned renovation.
Arthur Whitmore personally attended the rehearsal.
His daughter Vanessa was responsible for coordinating donors and performers.
“And Peter Rusk?” Grace asked.
Marta's hands tightened around her coffee cup.
“He controlled the rigging inventory.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“Did Thomas report anything unusual?”
Marta stood without answering.
She walked into her bedroom and returned carrying a small wooden box.
“I promised your father I'd keep this until you were ready.”
Inside lay a silver pocket watch.
Grace recognized it instantly.
Her father's watch.
He wore it every day.
When she was little, he would open it before every performance and tell her, “Never rush a safety check, sweetheart. The audience can wait.”
Grace picked it up.
The glass was cracked.
The hands had stopped at 8:14.
On the back, beneath years of scratches, someone had engraved two words.
CHECK TWICE.
Grace swallowed.
“Why didn't you give this to me?”
“I tried after the funeral. You told me you never wanted to see anything from the circus again.”
Grace remembered.
She had been angry at everyone.
Especially herself.
Marta continued.
“Thomas came to me the morning after your accident. He was holding that watch and a copy of his inspection notes.”
“What did he say?”
“He said somebody had replaced a condemned load-bearing pin.”
Vincent's expression darkened.
“Do you remember the equipment number?”
Marta nodded.
“Four-seventeen.”
Grace looked up.
“Why would someone replace a rejected pin with another rejected one?”
“Because the original replacement had already been paid for,” Marta said. “And someone didn't want anyone asking where the money went.”
Vincent exchanged a glance with Luca.
The Whitmore Foundation had received millions in donations and renovation grants that year.
Grace suddenly understood something.
“My father wasn't just accused of making a mistake.”
Marta shook her head.
“He was preparing to report financial fraud.”
Silence filled the kitchen.
Marta explained that Thomas had discovered several expensive safety components listed as newly installed even though the circus was still using older hardware.
He challenged Peter Rusk.
Two days later, Grace fell.
Afterward, the official report claimed Thomas had approved the defective equipment himself.
“He spent months trying to correct that report,” Marta whispered.
Grace held the watch against her chest.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried. But you were recovering from another surgery, and your father's letters were coming back unopened.”
Grace closed her eyes.
She remembered the letters.
She had been too frightened to read them.
Because she believed they contained apologies.
Marta reached across the table.
“He wasn't apologizing, Grace. He was trying to protect you.”
Vincent remained silent.
For the first time, Grace saw genuine shame in his face.
Then Marta opened a drawer.
“There was one more thing.”
She handed Grace a page torn from an inspection notebook.
Most of the writing was faded.
But one sentence remained clear.
If anything happens during the benefit, find out who approved the replacement at 8:14.
Beneath it were two initials.
S.M.
Vincent stared at them.
Grace noticed his reaction.
“What?”
He didn't answer.
“Vincent, whose initials are those?”
His voice was barely audible.
“My father.”
Grace looked from the watch to the notebook.
Vincent swallowed.
“Salvatore Moretti authorized that equipment contract.”
Marta shook her head slowly.
“Then you need to understand something.”
She pointed toward the bottom of the page.
There was another sentence.
The authorization was changed after Thomas signed his inspection.
Grace read it twice.
Then she looked up.
“Changed by whom?”
Marta turned the page over.
May you like
Written in Thomas Mitchell's unmistakable handwriting were five words.
Ask Vincent what he approved.
