Chapter 8 - THE FACE IN THE FORGOTTEN CAMERA
“Find the recording from June seventeenth.”
Marco stood beside Sofia in the housekeeping office, gripping the back of a wooden chair.
It was nearly seven in the morning.
Neither of them had slept.
Detective Leah Morgan had accompanied them downstairs, where Celia kept the mansion's old insurance records.
A narrow cabinet stood beside the laundry supervisor's desk.
Inside were carefully labeled storage cards, maintenance receipts, and inspection reports.
Celia opened a drawer.
“I saved copies of the recordings whenever there was an equipment issue or an accident,” she explained. “The insurance company required it.”
Sofia searched the labels.
June.
Then yesterday's date.
She placed two small cases on the desk.
“Here.”
Detective Morgan examined the labels before making working copies of the recordings.
“We'll preserve the originals,” she said.
Marco nodded impatiently.
“Show me.”
The first video displayed the service hallway at 4:36 p.m. the previous afternoon.
Nothing happened for several seconds.
Then the service elevator opened.
Two men emerged carrying a yellow toolbox.
They wore dark security jackets.
Vivian followed them.
Sofia leaned forward.
“That's her.”
Vivian pointed toward the staircase.
One worker stopped beside the temporary railing.
The other opened the toolbox.
For nearly six minutes, they worked beneath the protection of the enormous flower arrangements.
They removed the railing.
Carried it toward the elevator.
And returned to collect the loose hardware.
Sofia felt sick.
It had been deliberate.
Nobody could mistake the video for an accident.
But then something unexpected happened.
Vivian stepped into the worker's path.
She appeared to be arguing.
The man gestured toward the staircase.
Vivian shook her head.
He said something the silent camera couldn't capture.
Then she stepped aside.
Marco stared at the screen.
“She hesitated.”
Sofia nodded.
“But she still let them finish.”
Marco said nothing.
The recording continued.
At 4:44, a third man appeared at the far end of the corridor.
He wore a black suit.
Only his back was visible.
He examined the exposed screw holes, nodded toward the workers, and disappeared through the security entrance.
Sofia froze the picture.
“Can you make that clearer?”
Detective Morgan enlarged the image.
The man's face remained hidden.
But his right sleeve had ridden up slightly.
A distinctive silver watch appeared beneath the cuff.
Marco leaned closer.
“I've seen that watch.”
“Where?” Sofia asked.
He frowned.
“I can't remember.”
Morgan saved the frame.
“Let's check the older recording.”
The second video showed the garage on June seventeenth.
One day before Marco's ambush.
At 9:12 a.m., two men wearing contractor uniforms approached his black SUV.
One carried a small equipment case.
The other held a clipboard.
They opened the passenger door.
For several minutes, their bodies blocked the camera's view.
Then the taller worker stepped aside.
The shorter man leaned into the vehicle.
He reached beneath the dashboard.
Marco's stomach tightened.
“That's where the hidden camera was installed.”
The contractor emerged.
Something small flashed in his hand.
A silver watch.
Sofia immediately looked toward the frozen image from the previous afternoon.
“It's the same kind of watch.”
Detective Morgan compared the frames.
The watch had an unusual rectangular case with a dark red leather strap.
Marco suddenly remembered.
Gabriel wore one like it.
His father had given it to him after Gabriel helped protect the company during a labor dispute years earlier.
But Marco refused to jump to a conclusion.
A watch wasn't proof of attempted murder.
And someone could have borrowed or copied it.
“Keep going,” he said.
The footage showed the contractor speaking to another man.
The second man's face remained hidden behind the open SUV door.
But his security identification badge swung forward.
The camera captured a brief reflection.
Only part of the badge was readable.
DIRECTOR — ESTATE SECURITY
Sofia stared.
“Mr. Bellini…”
Marco raised his hand.
“Not yet.”
His voice was strained.
“I want to see the rest.”
Detective Morgan played the final recording.
The camera returned to the previous afternoon.
The two workers had already finished removing the railing.
At 4:47, the man in the black suit returned.
This time he walked directly toward the service elevator.
As he passed beneath the ceiling light, he turned his head.
The camera captured his face.
Clear.
Unmistakable.
Sofia stepped backward.
“Oh, my God.”
Marco didn't move.
For fourteen years, this man had controlled access to his home.
He knew every security code.
Every private entrance.
Every medical appointment.
He had stood beside Marco's hospital bed after the ambush.
He had promised to protect him while his eyesight recovered.
And now he appeared on camera inspecting the staircase after the safety railing was removed.
Gabriel Shaw.
Marco slowly sat down.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Then he looked toward the photograph of his father that Celia had brought from the study.
Gabriel had stood beside that man, smiling like a trusted son.
Marco's voice was barely audible.
“My father trusted him.”
Sofia felt tears gathering.
“I'm sorry.”
Marco shook his head.
“Don't apologize for showing me the truth.”
Detective Morgan collected the recordings.
“This establishes that Mr. Shaw was present during both suspicious security operations,” she said. “We still need to determine who ordered the attack and where the surveillance recordings were going.”
Marco looked at the time.
7:46 a.m.
The board meeting was fourteen minutes away.
Then his expression changed.
“Gabriel controls the meeting's security.”
Detective Morgan immediately contacted the officers securing the estate.
But Sofia was already looking at the final frame.
Gabriel had turned toward someone outside the camera's view.
His lips were moving.
There was no audio.
Yet the direction of his gaze was unmistakable.
He had been speaking to the person who controlled the elevator.
Sofia checked the elevator access record beside the monitor.
One private security credential had opened the elevator at exactly 4:47.
It belonged to Gabriel Shaw.
And it had been used again twenty minutes earlier that morning.
At the building where the Bellini board was about to meet.
Marco stood.
“Then he's already there.”
Sofia looked at him.
“Sir, what are you going to do?”
Marco picked up his father's pocket watch.
For the first time in months, his hand was steady.
“I'm going to attend my own funeral.”
May you like
He closed the watch.
“And disappoint everyone who planned it.”
