Chapter 3 - THE WATCH THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN BURIED
"Someone signed an order to kill my brother."
Adriano spoke the words aloud, standing alone beneath his father's portrait.
They sounded impossible.
Matteo had been reckless, stubborn, and occasionally foolish.
But he had been family.
And there were rules even men like the Vitales were not supposed to break.
Adriano enlarged the final frame of the video.
The gold ring carried the letter M.
Matteo had worn a ring exactly like it.
Their mother had given each brother a ring on his twenty-first birthday. Adriano's bore an A. Matteo's bore an M.
The ring had disappeared from Matteo's hand after his murder.
Adriano remembered noticing it in the funeral home.
He remembered being told that the police had collected the jewelry as evidence.
That was seven years ago.
Now someone was wearing it inside his study.
He reached for the telephone.
Then he stopped.
The man he wanted to call was Salvatore Bellini.
His most trusted security chief.
The same man who had controlled the household cameras for thirteen years.
The same man who had informed him that Valentina's wedding arrangements required additional security access.
The same man who had found the suspicious objects in Camila's locker.
Adriano slowly returned the receiver to its cradle.
For the first time in years, he did not know whom he could trust.
Valentina entered the study just before lunch.
"You've been avoiding me."
Adriano closed the computer.
"Have I?"
She wore a dark green dress and the same diamond bracelet from the recording.
Her expression softened.
"Adriano, I know you're grieving all over again because of Matteo. But you cannot let that child turn this house upside down."
He watched her carefully.
"How did you know I was thinking about Matteo?"
She stopped.
"Your brother is always on your mind when something threatens the family."
"That's not what I asked."
Valentina walked toward the fireplace.
"Do you remember the first time we met?"
He said nothing.
"At that hospital fundraiser. You were standing alone, refusing to dance with anyone. I asked why."
"I remember."
"You said there were people you could never replace."
Adriano looked toward the window.
"You told me grief didn't mean I had stopped living."
"And I meant it."
For a moment, he saw the woman he had loved.
Not the polished hostess who had reorganized his household.
Not the woman accused by a toddler.
But the woman who had sat beside him through the anniversary of Matteo's death without asking him to speak.
He wanted desperately to believe that woman was real.
"Valentina," he said, "if you made a mistake, tell me now."
She stared at him.
"What kind of mistake?"
"One that someone is using against you."
Her eyes glistened.
"You're asking me to confess to something without telling me what it is."
"I'm asking you to trust me."
She laughed softly.
"That's a strange request from a man who no longer trusts me."
She turned toward the door.
Then she stopped.
"There's something you should know about Camila."
Adriano waited.
"She wasn't hired through the ordinary staffing agency."
"Who hired her?"
"Your uncle Lorenzo recommended her."
Adriano felt the room tilt beneath him.
"That's impossible."
"Ask Mrs. Alvarez. Camila came with a personal recommendation. Someone approved an exception."
"Who?"
Valentina looked directly at him.
"Matteo's former secretary."
An hour later, Adriano found the original hiring records.
Camila had worked in the mansion for eighteen months.
Before that, she had cleaned offices in Newark.
Her application carried a reference from Elena Marquez, who had once served as Matteo's personal assistant.
Elena had disappeared from the family's business after Matteo died.
Not literally disappeared.
She had resigned, sold her condominium, and moved to Pennsylvania.
Adriano had approved a severance payment.
He remembered signing it.
What he did not remember was the handwritten note attached to Camila's application.
It was dated five months before Lucía's third birthday.
She needs employment where her daughter will be safe. She is not to be questioned about her previous employers.
The handwriting belonged to Elena.
Adriano summoned Camila.
She came alone.
"Did you know my uncle Lorenzo?"
Camila shook her head.
"No, sir."
"What about Elena Marquez?"
Her fingers tightened.
"She helped me find this job."
"Why?"
"She knew my husband."
Adriano leaned forward.
"Your husband?"
Camila looked away.
"My husband died when Lucía was six months old."
Adriano had never asked about Lucía's father.
That embarrassed him now.
"What was his name?"
"Daniel Reyes."
"Where did he work?"
Camila did not answer immediately.
"At a printing company in Newark."
Adriano felt something shift.
"What kind of printing company?"
"Security documents. Certificates. Shipping forms."
He looked at the photograph of the seal on his desk.
"Did Daniel ever work for the Vitale family?"
Camila swallowed.
"I don't know."
"Camila."
"He told me he printed documents for important clients. He never gave me names."
Adriano watched tears gather in her eyes.
"Daniel died in a warehouse fire," she continued. "They said it was an electrical accident."
"When?"
"Six months after Matteo was killed."
The room fell silent.
Six months.
Security printing.
Elena Marquez.
A frightened young mother placed inside his house through an unusual recommendation.
Too many coincidences.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Camila lifted her chin.
"Because nobody ever asked. And because every time I tried to find out what happened to Daniel, somebody told me to stop."
"Who?"
She reached beneath her blouse.
Around her neck hung a narrow silver chain.
Attached to it was a small brass key.
"Daniel gave me this the morning before the fire."
Adriano stared.
"What does it open?"
"I don't know."
"Did you try to find out?"
"For two years."
She removed the necklace and placed it on his desk.
"Then Elena told me something."
"What?"
Camila's voice trembled.
"She said the key belonged to a man named Matteo Vitale."
Adriano did not tell Camila what he suspected.
Instead, he asked whether Daniel had left anything else.
She thought for a moment.
"An old coat."
"His coat?"
"Yes. I couldn't bring myself to throw it away."
"Where is it?"
"In our apartment."
"Bring it here tomorrow."
Camila hesitated.
"Mr. Vitale, am I in danger?"
Adriano looked at the little brass key.
He could have reassured her.
He could have offered one of the empty promises powerful men were accustomed to giving.
Instead, he said, "I believe someone has been using your family without your knowledge."
Camila covered her mouth.
"Does this involve Daniel?"
"I don't know yet."
She stood slowly.
"Please don't let them take Lucía."
The fear in her voice was raw enough to make him rise.
"Who threatened to take her?"
Camila shook her head.
"Nobody. Not directly."
"Camila."
"Mrs. Whitmore told me yesterday that children who cause trouble sometimes end up living somewhere else."
Adriano felt his temper rise.
But he controlled it.
"Lucía stays with you."
Camila nodded.
He added, "And anyone who tells you otherwise will answer to me."
That evening, Adriano visited the family mausoleum.
The rain had stopped, leaving the marble steps slick and shining.
His father lay beneath the largest stone.
Matteo's name was carved nearby.
Adriano stood between them.
He had not come to disturb the dead.
He had come because the sound in the video would not leave him alone.
His father's silver pocket watch had been placed in the coffin before burial.
Adriano had seen it himself.
Yet the engraving on the watch was distinctive enough that a duplicate would have been difficult to mistake.
He knelt beside the small bronze memorial plaque listing objects donated to the family's church after Vittorio's funeral.
There, beneath the date, was an entry he had forgotten.
Personal timepiece transferred to parish archives by family request.
Adriano frowned.
The watch had not remained in the coffin.
Someone had removed it before the burial.
And someone had concealed that fact from him.
He photographed the inscription.
Then he noticed a second line.
Transfer authorized by L. Vitale and S. Bellini.
Lorenzo.
And Salvatore.
Adriano's two oldest advisers.
He rose slowly.
Behind the mausoleum, a black sedan was parked beneath the trees.
He recognized the license plate.
Valentina's driver.
He approached the vehicle.
The driver's seat was empty.
But on the passenger seat lay a folded newspaper.
And on top of it rested the missing silver pocket watch.
Its cover was open.
Inside, where his father's photograph should have been, someone had placed a small picture of Matteo and Daniel Reyes standing together outside a print shop.
May you like
On the back were six handwritten words.
ASK SALVATORE WHO ORDERED THE FIRE.
