Chapter 7 - THE PHOTOGRAPH HIS FATHER NEVER FRAMED
“They're going to take the records before sunrise.”
Sofia placed the restructuring plan in front of Marco.
He looked at the deadline.
“Then we preserve them first.”
Gabriel had returned from the security office and was standing near the doorway.
“The records fall under my department's protection,” he said.
Marco turned toward him.
“Not anymore.”
Gabriel's expression tightened.
“Boss, I've handled security for this family for fourteen years.”
“And tonight, someone used that security to watch me nearly die.”
“Are you accusing me?”
“I'm telling you that an independent investigator will handle the evidence.”
Gabriel stared at him for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
“As you wish.”
But Sofia noticed something disturbing.
He wasn't angry.
He looked almost relieved.
As if removing him from direct responsibility would make it easier for him to deny knowing what happened next.
A police detective, Leah Morgan, had been interviewing witnesses since shortly after the staircase incident.
She agreed to preserve the household's paper schedules and original financial records while the surveillance devices were examined.
However, the business dispute remained complicated.
The Bellini board could still meet in the morning.
And Marco's damaged eye had become the central argument for replacing him.
By midnight, most of the guests had finally departed after giving statements.
The chandeliers were dimmed.
Broken glass had been removed.
But the staircase remained cordoned off, its missing railing a terrible reminder of how close Marco had come to dying.
Sofia was carrying a box of original schedules toward Detective Morgan when two security guards blocked the service hallway.
“Mr. Shaw wants to speak with you,” one said.
“About what?”
“The camera you removed from Mr. Bellini's mask.”
“I already gave my statement.”
“He has additional questions.”
Sofia tightened her grip on the box.
“Then he can speak to the detective.”
The taller guard reached for the box.
“Give me that.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
Before he could touch her, Dominic appeared at the end of the hallway.
“Get away from her.”
The guard frowned.
“Mr. Bellini, we have instructions.”
“From Gabriel?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dominic looked toward the box.
Then at Sofia's frightened face.
For one moment, he seemed to understand exactly what his compromises had made possible.
“Those records are going to Detective Morgan,” he said. “And so is a report about this conversation.”
The guards reluctantly stepped aside.
Sofia hurried past them.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Dominic looked ashamed.
“Don't thank me. I should have stopped this weeks ago.”
For the first time, Sofia believed him.
Later, she found Marco standing beside the mantel in his father's study.
He was holding an old photograph.
His father stood in the center, surrounded by dockworkers.
Beside him stood a much younger Gabriel Shaw.
Marco noticed Sofia looking.
“Gabriel started working for my father when he was twenty-nine,” he said.
“He must have been important to him.”
“He was.”
Marco lowered the photograph.
“When my father died, Gabriel promised to look after the family.”
Sofia hesitated.
“Do you still believe him?”
Marco studied the picture.
“I don't know what to believe anymore.”
Sofia looked toward the pocket watch resting on his desk.
“You believed Miss Russo would guide you safely.”
“Yes.”
“And you believed your cousin would protect your company.”
“Yes.”
She paused.
“Maybe you trusted the wrong people because they were close to you.”
Marco looked at her.
“And maybe you ignored the right people because they weren't,” she added quietly.
The words struck harder than any accusation.
Marco remembered passing Sofia in the hallway hundreds of times without knowing her name.
He remembered how quickly Vivian had called her a liar.
And how close he had come to listening.
“You're right,” he said.
Sofia lowered her eyes.
“I didn't mean to insult you.”
“You didn't.”
He placed the photograph down.
“You told me something I needed to hear.”
A moment later, Celia entered carrying a small wooden storage case.
“Sofia, I've been looking for you.”
The older woman seemed unusually nervous.
“Do you remember the accident in the linen passage last winter?”
Sofia nodded.
“A housekeeper slipped on the wet floor.”
“Yes. The insurance company asked us to install a separate safety camera. It wasn't connected to the mansion's main system.”
Marco turned toward her.
“Where does it store recordings?”
“On a local memory card. I used to check it after every incident.”
Sofia suddenly understood.
The linen passage connected the service elevator to the upper staircase.
Anyone removing the rehabilitation railing would have passed through that corridor.
“And Gabriel doesn't manage it?” she asked.
Celia shook her head.
“Housekeeping does.”
She opened the wooden case.
Inside was an old silver camera key, a maintenance booklet, and a small plastic storage pouch.
“I nearly threw these away when the insurance policy changed,” Celia admitted.
Sofia reached for the booklet.
“Was the camera still working yesterday?”
“I believe so.”
Marco looked at her.
“Can we retrieve the recording?”
Celia nodded.
“Yes. But there's something you should know.”
“What?”
She opened the booklet to the final maintenance entry.
The camera had been inspected three days before Marco's ambush.
And the person who ordered the inspection had signed a special request to keep it recording continuously.
Not just when movement was detected.
Celia turned the page.
The request contained a handwritten instruction.
Preserve all original footage. Do not connect to central security.
Marco stared at the note.
“Who wrote that?”
Celia looked toward the photograph on his desk.
“Your father gave me that instruction years ago, sir. He always said a house needed one camera that nobody in security could control.”
Marco felt a sudden ache in his chest.
His father had been dead for six years.
Yet one of his smallest precautions might expose the people who had betrayed his son.
Sofia lifted the storage pouch.
“Then there's a chance we can see who moved the railing.”
Celia nodded slowly.
“And perhaps something else.”
Sofia frowned.
“What else?”
“The same passage leads directly to the garage.”
Marco's face changed.
The garage where Harborlight had installed the camera inside his SUV.
The garage where someone had prepared the vehicle before the ambush.
Sofia looked at the dates in the maintenance booklet.
Then at the memory card.
“Mr. Bellini,” she whispered, “this might not only show us what happened yesterday.”
May you like
She held up the pouch.
“It might show us who helped prepare your first attack.”
