Chapter 4 - The Watch That Shouldn't Have Been There
“My mother knew Elena wasn't driving.”
Matteo stared at Beatrice.
The elderly woman lowered her eyes.
“She knew I saw another man. Whether she knew who he was, I can't say.”
“Then she let me bury my wife believing something that wasn't true.”
Celia stepped between them.
“Matteo, don't take your anger out on Beatrice. She's been living with this for three years.”
He looked at the frightened woman.
Then he forced his hands to relax.
“You're right.”
He drew out a chair.
“I'm sorry, Beatrice. Please sit down.”
She did.
Matteo picked up Elena's picture book.
The inscription on the first page seemed almost painfully innocent.
Home is where people tell you the truth.
He wondered how long his wife had known that hers was becoming a dangerous place.
“Tell me everything you remember about the man who picked her up.”
Beatrice closed her eyes.
“He was tall. Dark clothes. He kept looking toward the road.”
“Did Elena seem forced?”
“No. But she didn't look relieved to see him.”
Celia frowned.
“You mentioned a watch.”
“A silver one. Old-fashioned, with a dark face.”
Matteo thought about every man who had worked security for his family.
Silver watches weren't unusual.
But Beatrice continued.
“The glass was scratched. I noticed it when he held the car door open.”
She traced a diagonal line across her palm.
Matteo froze.
He had seen a watch like that.
Years earlier, his father had owned a silver wristwatch with a deep scratch across the glass.
After his father's funeral, Matteo had given it to Elias.
A thank-you for protecting the family through a particularly violent year.
But memories weren't evidence.
And Matteo refused to condemn another person based on a frightened woman's recollection.
“Celia, photograph the notebook,” he said. “Every page.”
Celia began working.
Beatrice disappeared into the kitchen and returned carrying a small tin box.
“Elena kept this in the pantry. She made me promise not to throw it away.”
Inside were receipts, a faded hospital bracelet from Oliver's birth, and a small brass key.
Matteo picked up the bracelet.
Oliver Valenti.
Six pounds, nine ounces.
He remembered the day Elena brought their son into the world.
She had been exhausted, laughing and crying as she placed the newborn against his chest.
“Don't let him grow up thinking people have to be afraid of you,” she'd whispered.
Matteo had promised.
He wondered what she'd think of him now.
Celia examined the receipts.
“These came from a private records-storage company.”
Beatrice nodded.
“Elena kept duplicate financial records there. She said nobody should have the only copy of something important.”
“Do you know what happened to them?” Matteo asked.
“I don't.”
Celia looked at the key.
“We need to find the storage account.”
Suddenly, headlights crossed the living-room wall.
A vehicle stopped outside.
Beatrice stood.
“I'm not expecting anyone.”
Matteo moved to the window.
A dark utility truck had pulled beside the curb.
Two men stepped out.
One carried a clipboard.
The other kept a hand inside his jacket.
Matteo recognized neither of them.
He called the independent guard he'd arranged to follow his car.
“Two men outside. Find out why they're here.”
A moment later, his guard approached the visitors.
Matteo watched through the curtain.
The men exchanged several words.
Then the taller stranger shoved the clipboard against the guard's chest and hurried toward the truck.
“Stay inside,” Matteo told the women.
He stepped onto the porch.
The truck was already reversing.
His guard came running up the walkway.
“They said the trust ordered an emergency property inspection. When I asked for identification, they left.”
“License plate?”
“Got it.”
Matteo glanced at the clipboard abandoned near the sidewalk.
The inspection form carried the name of a maintenance company he recognized.
Valenti Property Services.
One of his own businesses.
He picked it up carefully.
Somebody was using his companies to reach the people who had known Elena.
And whoever it was had learned about this meeting almost immediately.
Back inside, Celia was trembling with anger.
“This is exactly what happened three years ago. Daniel came to get me, and suddenly strangers appeared who knew where we were going.”
Matteo looked at her.
“Why didn't you go to the police?”
“I tried.”
She pulled back her sleeve.
A narrow scar crossed her forearm.
“I was followed for weeks. Someone broke into my apartment and took copies of Elena's records.”
“You should have come to me.”
“I did, Matteo.”
His expression changed.
Celia swallowed.
“After Daniel died, I waited outside your office for two hours. Elias came down and said you blamed me for the shooting. He told me you never wanted to see me again.”
Matteo stared at her.
“I never said that.”
“I know that now.”
The silence that followed was worse than an argument.
Matteo returned to the yellow notebook.
Near the back, he found a handwritten note:
Property transfers authorized through family operations.
Beneath it were four payment dates and the initials E.G.
Matteo took out his phone.
He called his company's financial controller, Denise Porter.
“Denise, I need the vendor payments from Valenti Property Services for the last thirty days. Send them directly to me. Don't route them through security.”
“Is something wrong, Mr. Valenti?”
“I'm finding out.”
He ended the call.
Beatrice watched him with concern.
“Do you believe someone from your own family is doing this?”
Matteo looked at Elena's book.
“I believe someone has been using my family's name.”
Thirty minutes later, Denise sent the records.
Matteo opened the payments.
There were maintenance charges, insurance premiums, and several ordinary invoices.
Then he found an unfamiliar company.
Sonoran Protective Consultants.
It had received three payments in the previous month.
Celia leaned closer.
“What's that?”
“A security contractor. Apparently.”
Matteo examined the description.
The latest payment had been issued the morning after Rebecca rescued Oliver.
The note attached to the invoice read:
Special transport services—family relocation.
He requested the vendor's registration details.
The response arrived seconds later.
Matteo opened the attached photograph of the company's registered manager.
A broad-faced man with close-cropped hair stared back at him.
Matteo recognized him immediately.
He was the man in the gate-camera footage.
The same man who had slammed the car door against Rebecca's wrist.
Celia covered her mouth.
“Matteo…”
He scrolled farther down.
The payment hadn't required his approval.
It had been authorized through a standing security arrangement.
At the bottom was the name of the person responsible.
Elias Grant.
Matteo stared at the screen.
May you like
His trusted security chief had paid the man who tried to abduct his son.
And the money had come from Matteo's own company.
