Chapter 8 - The Photographs on the Table
Victor Sanz had been younger in the old photograph.
His hair was darker.
His face less lined.
But the eyes were the same.
Cold.
Patient.
Watching.
Luca placed two images side by side.
One from eight years earlier.
One from Wednesday beside Adrienne.
Elena stared at them.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Facial comparison, archived footage and a former employee who identified him.”
Mateo stood across the table.
His expression revealed nothing.
That frightened Elena more than anger would have.
“What did Victor want from my father?”
Mateo finally answered.
“Evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“We never found out.”
“You said my father came to you.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me everything.”
Mateo looked toward Luca.
This time Elena spoke before he could order everyone out.
“Luca stays.”
Mateo’s eyebrow lifted.
“He seems to know more than I do.”
Luca looked extremely uncomfortable.
Mateo almost objected.
Then nodded.
“Elena’s father contacted me nine days before his death.”
Mateo walked to the window.
“He believed financial records had been manipulated across several companies. At first he thought it was fraud. Then he realized the companies connected to Victor.”
“And to you?”
“One subsidiary connected indirectly to Romano Holdings.”
Elena swallowed.
“Were you working with Victor?”
“My father had.”
Mateo’s voice hardened.
“I was ending that relationship.”
“Your father.”
“Giovanni Romano.”
Elena recognized the name.
He had died six years ago.
News articles described him as a legendary businessman.
Elena now suspected the public biography omitted several important paragraphs.
“Daniel approached me because he believed I wanted Victor out.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Victor was unpredictable. My father respected strength more than judgment. He made alliances that created enemies faster than profits.”
Mateo returned to the table.
“Daniel had discovered a ledger.”
“Physical?”
“Digital.”
“What was in it?”
“Names. Payments. Property. Shell corporations. Officials. People Victor owned.”
“Your family?”
“Yes.”
Elena’s chest tightened.
“Your name?”
“No.”
“How convenient.”
“Elena.”
“I’m asking.”
“And I’m answering.”
She held his gaze.
“What happened to the ledger?”
“Daniel took it.”
The line from the message suddenly returned.
She has what her father stole.
Elena’s skin prickled.
“He stole evidence.”
“He stole something much larger than evidence.”
“What?”
“A master access key.”
Elena frowned.
“To what?”
“We never knew.”
Luca spoke.
“Daniel told us Victor’s system had multiple encrypted archives. Financial records, identity documents, leverage files.”
“Blackmail.”
“Yes.”
Elena looked between them.
“And you think my father took the key?”
“We know he did,” Mateo said.
“How?”
“Because Victor spent eight years looking for it.”
“And now he thinks I have it.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t.”
Mateo’s eyes searched hers.
“I believe you.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“No.”
Elena stood abruptly.
She needed movement.
She walked around the library.
“My father left me his apartment contents, his savings, books, old records, boxes of ridiculous cables he refused to throw away.”
“What happened to everything?”
“Most is in storage.”
Mateo and Luca exchanged a look.
Elena saw it.
“No.”
“We need to search it.”
“Absolutely not.”
“If the key is there—”
“I have strangers following me because people in your world think my dead father gave me something. I’m not letting twenty armed men tear through the last pieces of his life.”
Mateo’s voice softened.
“Then you search.”
She stopped.
“What?”
“We go together.”
Luca immediately objected.
“Boss.”
“No team inside unless Elena agrees.”
“That facility could be compromised.”
“Then secure the perimeter.”
Elena stared at Mateo.
“You’d let me control the search?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s yours.”
Simple.
No argument.
No manipulation.
For the first time that evening, she believed him without qualification.
Her phone buzzed.
Everyone looked at it.
Unknown number.
Elena froze.
Mateo crossed the room.
“Don’t answer.”
Her pulse hammered.
The phone kept ringing.
“Could trace it?” she asked.
Luca nodded.
“If he stays on.”
Elena reached for the phone.
Mateo caught her wrist.
“No.”
She looked at his hand.
Then his face.
“Let go.”
He did immediately.
Elena answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a man spoke.
“You’ve had a lovely day, Ms. Carter.”
Her grip tightened.
Mateo moved closer.
“Who is this?”
The stranger ignored the question.
“Cinnamon rolls. Books. Shopping.”
Ice moved through her veins.
He had been watching everything.
“You should ask yourself why Mateo Romano did not recognize you sooner.”
Elena looked at Mateo.
His face had gone completely still.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing that belongs to you.”
“Then stop following me.”
“It belongs to your father.”
“My father is dead.”
A pause.
“Exactly.”
Mateo held out his hand for the phone.
Elena turned away from him.
The caller continued.
“Ask Mateo Romano what happened to your father.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“I already am.”
“No.”
The man’s voice dropped.
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
“What’s the right one?”
Another pause.
Then four words.
“Ask who was there.”
The call ended.
Elena slowly turned toward Mateo.
He did not ask what the caller said.
He already knew.
She saw it in his face.
“You were there.”
Mateo said nothing.
Her heart cracked.
“You were there the night my father died.”
His answer was almost a whisper.
May you like
“Yes.”
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