Chapter 3 - THE BROKEN WATCH AND THE FATHER'S FIRST LIE
“Then tell me what's inside it.”
Sebastian's voice was calm.
But the way he gripped his mother's letter made me afraid the paper would tear.
Evelyn lowered herself into the leather chair.
“I never saw inside the watch, Mr. Russo. Your mother wouldn't let me.”
“Why not?”
“She said the person who opened it needed to understand what he'd be risking.”
Sebastian looked toward the photograph again.
His older brother stood beneath the harsh lights of Pier Nine, one hand resting against a shipping container.
Seven years.
Seven years since Adrian had vanished.
Seven years of unanswered questions.
Sebastian had spent most of that time believing his brother had stolen thirty-one million dollars from a family shipping account and disappeared overseas.
Now an elderly photographer was telling him the money had never been Adrian's to steal.
“Thirty-one million,” he murmured. “That's what Father said Adrian took.”
Evelyn nodded.
“It belonged to the Harbor Relief Foundation.”
Sebastian looked up.
“The foundation compensates dockworkers' families.”
“Yes.”
“Then Adrian stole money meant for injured workers and widows?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“Your mother believed someone else moved it. Adrian discovered the transfers.”
Sebastian's expression changed.
“Who?”
“That's what she was trying to prove.”
I stood beside the window, suddenly remembering something.
“Mr. Russo?”
He turned toward me.
“Yesterday, I delivered a box of files to your father's office. The label said Harbor Relief, 2019.”
Sebastian considered that.
“Why would he have those records?”
“I don't know. But Miss Caldwell came upstairs and told me to leave immediately.”
Evelyn looked at me.
“Did you see a blue folder?”
I nodded.
“There were several.”
Her eyes filled.
“Margaret always used blue folders for records she didn't want mixed with ordinary business.”
Margaret Russo.
Sebastian's mother.
A woman I'd known only through photographs.
Sebastian crossed the room and opened a drawer.
He removed an old silver rosary.
“My mother carried this every Sunday,” he said.
He placed it beside the letter.
“When Adrian disappeared, she told me not to believe everything I heard.”
“Did you listen?” Evelyn asked.
Sebastian stared at the rosary.
“No.”
For a moment, he looked less like the man who controlled a shipping empire and more like a younger brother carrying an old regret.
Then Marcus entered.
“Sir, your father wants to speak with you.”
“Bring him here.”
“There's another problem.”
Marcus placed a tablet on the desk.
“Someone accessed the foundation's electronic records at 6:42 this evening. A transfer authorization was prepared for twenty-two million dollars.”
Sebastian went still.
“To whom?”
“A holding company associated with Pier Nine.”
I felt cold.
Brianna had announced her new position less than an hour earlier.
Sebastian looked at Marcus.
“Was the transfer completed?”
“No. Your approval was still required.”
“Cancel the authorization. Suspend external access.”
Marcus nodded.
“And the person who prepared it?”
“The request came from your father's office.”
Sebastian closed his eyes.
Just once.
Then he said, “Bring him in.”
Vittorio entered wearing his dark evening suit.
His expression was controlled.
But he stopped when he saw the photograph.
“Where did you get that?”
“Mother's photographer.”
Vittorio looked at Evelyn.
“You should have stayed retired.”
Sebastian moved between them.
“Don't threaten her.”
“I'm trying to protect you.”
“Then tell me why you put Adrian's watch in Mother's coffin.”
Vittorio's expression changed.
He lowered himself into the chair opposite his son.
“Because she asked me to.”
“Why?”
“She believed it was all she had left of Adrian.”
“Adrian wasn't dead.”
“No.”
“Then why did she treat his watch like a memorial?”
Vittorio looked away.
“Because she knew he wasn't coming home.”
Sebastian placed the Pier Nine photograph on the desk.
“Was he with you when the foundation's money disappeared?”
His father's silence answered first.
Finally, Vittorio nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then you lied to me for seven years.”
“I kept you away from something you weren't prepared to handle.”
Sebastian leaned forward.
“Thirty-one million dollars disappeared from a foundation for injured workers. My brother vanished. Mother died believing our family was falling apart. What exactly was I not prepared to handle?”
Vittorio's voice rose.
“Adrian was going to destroy the company!”
“By exposing theft?”
“By exposing mistakes that would have cost thousands of people their jobs.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“So you let everyone believe he was the thief?”
Vittorio ignored her.
Instead, he looked at Sebastian.
“Do you remember the financial crisis seven years ago? The lenders calling in loans? The terminals facing closure?”
“Yes.”
“We were three days from losing everything.”
“And what did you do?”
Vittorio rubbed his forehead.
“I made a decision.”
Sebastian waited.
But his father said nothing more.
Then I remembered the small key.
“Mr. Russo?”
Everyone turned.
“The number thirty-two.”
Vittorio's face tightened.
I pointed toward the desk.
“The brass key from your mother's envelope. It has thirty-two stamped on it.”
Sebastian picked it up.
“Does that mean something?”
Vittorio stood so quickly his chair scraped the floor.
“Give me that.”
Sebastian stepped back.
“Why?”
“It's company property.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“No, Vittorio. Margaret kept it because she knew you would try to take it.”
Marcus approached the desk.
“Sir, Archive Room 32 was sealed after the old terminal offices closed.”
Sebastian looked at his father.
“What's inside?”
Vittorio's face had lost its color.
“Nothing worth finding.”
Sebastian put the key into his pocket.
“Then you won't mind if I look.”
His father caught his arm.
“Sebastian, listen carefully. Your mother didn't tell you everything.”
Sebastian pulled free.
“Then it's time somebody did.”
Vittorio stared at the photograph.
And what he said next made even Evelyn fall silent.
“Your brother wasn't the only Russo at Pier Nine that night.”
Sebastian frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
May you like
His father looked directly at him.
“You were there, too.”
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