Chapter 3 - THE COAT THAT DIDN'T BELONG
Alessandro held the burgundy coat beneath the basement light.
“Harper, are you sure?”
The little girl nodded.
“I broke it.”
Mia looked at her daughter.
“You didn't break it, sweetheart.”
“Yes, I did. With my truck.”
A faint smile passed across Mia's exhausted face.
“Her toy truck caught the button last Tuesday. I was going to sew it back on.”
Alessandro examined the replacement.
Every button was perfect.
He looked at Rafael.
“Someone removed Mia's coat and replaced it with another one.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever they were looking for might have been inside it.”
Mia closed her eyes.
Rafael carefully searched the pockets.
Empty.
Then he turned back the collar.
There was a small stitched label beneath the lining.
L.M.
Alessandro stared.
Those were his sister's initials.
Lucia Moretti.
Forty-five years old.
Director of the Moretti Family Foundation.
And one of the few people with unrestricted access to every service area of the estate.
“Take that coat to my office,” Alessandro ordered.
“Sir, what about your sister?”
“Find out where she is.”
Mia touched his arm.
“Please don't accuse anyone because of a label.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“Do you know something?”
“I know how easily a person can be blamed for something she didn't do.”
Those words stayed with him.
The ambulance crew arrived minutes later.
Mia initially refused to leave Harper.
Alessandro arranged for them to travel together, with Rafael's most trusted guard accompanying them.
Before the stretcher moved, Mia called him closer.
“I was working with someone,” she whispered.
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“Someone who promised to help me understand what happened to my father.”
Alessandro frowned.
“Your father?”
Mia looked away.
“Daniel Carter. He worked at East Harbor.”
Alessandro knew the name.
Or thought he did.
Eleven years earlier, a warehouse fire at East Harbor had killed seven workers.
Daniel Carter had been one of them.
The Moretti family had owned the warehouse.
Alessandro's father, Salvatore, had established a compensation fund after the tragedy.
As far as Alessandro knew, every affected family had been paid.
“My father was the night foreman,” Mia continued. “They said the emergency gate jammed during the fire.”
“That was the investigation's conclusion.”
“I believed it for eleven years.”
Something in her expression told him that belief had ended.
“What changed?”
“Your sister showed me a photograph.”
Alessandro's eyes narrowed.
“Lucia?”
Mia nodded.
“She said my father deserved to be remembered.”
The paramedic stepped forward.
“We need to get her to the hospital.”
Alessandro moved aside.
Mia reached for Harper.
“Can she keep her hand on mine?”
“Of course,” the paramedic answered.
Alessandro watched until the stretcher disappeared.
Then he turned to Rafael.
“Show me the cameras.”
Twenty minutes later, they stood inside the estate's security room.
The video archive from the night Mia disappeared had been partially erased.
Not the entire recording.
Only thirty-seven minutes between 9:14 and 9:51 p.m.
Rafael studied the system.
“Someone with administrator privileges removed this section.”
“Can you recover it?”
“Not immediately. But there's a backup from the older service cameras.”
Alessandro folded his arms.
“Play it.”
The screen flickered.
A grainy image appeared.
9:12 p.m.
Mia walked through the service corridor carrying a small folder.
Another woman followed.
Tall.
Dark hair.
Cream-colored jacket.
Lucia.
At 9:13, Mia stopped beside the entrance to the cellar.
Lucia touched her shoulder.
They exchanged a few words that the camera couldn't record.
Then Lucia pointed toward the basement staircase.
Mia descended.
Lucia followed.
At 9:14, the picture disappeared.
Alessandro stared at the blank screen.
His sister had accompanied Mia to the place where she was imprisoned.
And she had never mentioned it.
Rafael looked uncomfortable.
“Sir, there's something else.”
He produced a printed staff attendance sheet.
“Lucia signed out at 9:49 that night. She told security Miss Carter was leaving for New Jersey.”
Alessandro looked at the signature.
It was unmistakably his sister's.
“Where is Lucia now?”
“At her apartment in Manhattan.”
“Have the car brought around.”
Rafael hesitated.
“Should I have someone bring her here instead?”
“No.”
Alessandro picked up the photograph of his father that stood on his desk.
He studied the older man's familiar face.
For years, Salvatore Moretti had taught his children that loyalty meant protecting family.
Alessandro had believed him.
But he had just carried an innocent woman out of a locked cellar while his sister's signature sat on the story that had hidden her disappearance.
May you like
He put the photograph down.
“I'm going to ask Lucia why she was the last person seen walking into that cellar with Mia.”
