Chapter 5 - THE SIGNATURE THAT COULD DESTROY HIM
“Someone used my name to lock an innocent woman underground.”
Alessandro laid the maintenance order on the library table.
Across from him stood Domenico Rinaldi, the estate manager.
Domenico had worked for the Moretti family for thirty-two years.
His hair had gone gray.
His shoulders were slightly bent.
And he had known Alessandro since he was a teenager.
“Who requested this installation?” Alessandro asked.
Domenico examined the paper.
“The executive office, sir.”
“I can read.”
“Mr. Moretti—”
“Don't make me ask three times.”
Domenico lowered his eyes.
“Your uncle gave me the order.”
Alessandro felt his jaw tighten.
“Enzo?”
“Yes.”
“Did you install it?”
“I arranged for the maintenance crew.”
“Did you know Mia was inside?”
Domenico's answer came too slowly.
“No, sir.”
Alessandro moved closer.
“Think carefully.”
Domenico swallowed.
“Your uncle said the cellar contained private financial records. He wanted access restricted until the inventory audit was finished.”
“Why didn't you ask me?”
“He showed me authorization from your office.”
“That wasn't my authorization.”
“I know that now.”
Alessandro studied him.
“No. You knew something was wrong before now.”
Domenico looked away.
At that moment, Rafael entered.
“Your uncle is here.”
Enzo Moretti walked into the library wearing a charcoal suit and carrying his silver-headed cane.
He looked mildly irritated.
“Alessandro, I hear you've had some trouble with the staff.”
Alessandro turned.
“Trouble?”
“The Carter woman. Domenico says she was found in the wine cellar.”
“She was imprisoned there.”
Enzo frowned.
“Good heavens.”
“Don't.”
His uncle stopped.
“Don't what?”
“Don't pretend this is a misunderstanding.”
Enzo set down his cane.
“I don't appreciate that tone.”
“I don't appreciate finding a mother locked in my basement.”
The two men stared at each other.
Enzo spoke first.
“I ordered the new lock. The cellar contains sensitive family records. But nobody told me a woman was trapped inside.”
“Then why was everyone told she'd gone to New Jersey?”
“I have no idea.”
Alessandro placed the maintenance order in front of him.
“Explain my initials.”
Enzo studied the page.
“Your office approves dozens of requests every month.”
“Not while I'm overseas.”
“You gave your administrative team authority to handle estate maintenance.”
Alessandro knew that was true.
And hated how easily it could be turned against him.
Enzo leaned against the table.
“Listen to me. Mia Carter has had a difficult life. Her father died in the East Harbor fire. She's been asking emotional questions about that tragedy.”
“Her questions deserve answers.”
“Of course they do.”
“Then open the foundation accounts.”
Enzo's expression hardened.
“Those accounts support hundreds of former dockworkers and their families.”
“Then you should have nothing to hide.”
Enzo looked genuinely wounded.
“I spent eleven years keeping that harbor operation alive after your father's mistakes. I paid wages when banks wouldn't extend credit. I kept six hundred families from losing their livelihoods.”
“And Mia?”
“If someone harmed her, I'll help you find them.”
He picked up his cane.
“But don't destroy the company because a frightened employee has confused the past with the present.”
After he left, Alessandro stood motionless.
Domenico finally spoke.
“Your uncle isn't lying about the jobs.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“Does that make the rest acceptable?”
“No, sir.”
“Then stop defending him.”
That afternoon, Alessandro visited Mia at the hospital.
Harper was asleep beside her mother, one small hand resting on Mia's blanket.
Mia looked better.
But when Alessandro entered, she stiffened.
“Did you find my coat?”
“Not yet.”
“Then he may already have what he wanted.”
“Who?”
Mia looked toward Harper.
“The person who knew what I was searching for.”
Alessandro pulled up a chair.
“Tell me about East Harbor.”
Mia was quiet for a long moment.
“My father used to come home smelling like motor oil and coffee. Every Friday, he brought me a little paper bag of peppermint candy.”
She smiled faintly.
“He never forgot.”
Then the smile disappeared.
“After the fire, people told us he was a hero. They said he went back inside for two coworkers.”
“He was.”
“Then why did the company report say he'd been somewhere he had no reason to be?”
Alessandro frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Mia reached into the bedside drawer.
Lucia had brought her another photograph that morning.
It showed Gate Six on the night of the fire.
Smoke rose behind the metal fencing.
Two men struggled near a heavy chain.
One wore a dark overcoat.
The other wore a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Alessandro recognized the younger man's face immediately.
His own.
He remembered that night.
He remembered the heat.
The screaming.
The chain.
But what frightened him most was the position of his hands in the photograph.
They were wrapped around the gate's locking mechanism.
Mia watched his face.
“You were there.”
Alessandro nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
May you like
She lifted the photograph.
“Then tell me why it looks like you were the man holding the gate shut.”
