Chapter 4 - The Traitor Beside Him
For sixteen years, Vincent Costa had believed his father died from a heart attack.
Carlo had collapsed in his private study late one winter evening.
The physician who signed the death certificate had worked for the family for twenty years.
No autopsy.
No investigation.
No suspicion.
Until now.
Vincent ended Adrian’s call without agreeing to meet.
Mave watched him pace through her childhood living room.
“You believe him.”
“I believe that every lie eventually contains something useful.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
Mave looked again at Eleanor’s letter.
Someone inside Vincent’s house had helped Sebastian kill Carlo.
Someone close.
Someone trusted.
Mave realized what Vincent was thinking.
“Leo?”
“No.”
“You answered quickly.”
“Because it isn’t Leo.”
“How can you know?”
“Leo was twenty-two when Carlo died. He was sleeping on my couch because his girlfriend threw him out.”
“That is not a legal alibi.”
“It is when I was on the other couch.”
Despite herself, Mave smiled.
Then her expression faded.
“Who had access?”
Vincent stopped pacing.
“Half the organization.”
“Who knew his routines?”
“Too many people.”
“Who benefited?”
“That is the better question.”
They returned to the penthouse just after sunrise.
Vincent called six senior associates into the study.
Mave sat at the far end of the table.
For the first time, these men did not look at her as a secretary.
They knew.
Rumors moved quickly.
Carlo Costa’s hidden daughter had returned.
And she might own more of the legitimate empire than Vincent himself.
Some looked surprised.
Some curious.
One looked afraid.
Mave noticed.
Anthony Rizzo.
Chief financial officer.
Sixty-one.
Worked for Carlo before Vincent.
The same man who had trained Mave during her first month.
Anthony kept adjusting his cufflink.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Mave wrote his name on a notepad.
Vincent questioned everyone about Carlo’s final week.
Most remembered little.
Anthony remembered too much.
“He complained of chest pain that month.”
“What doctor saw him?” Vincent asked.
“Dr. Bellini.”
“Bellini said he never examined him.”
Anthony hesitated.
“Maybe I’m remembering wrong.”
Mave looked up.
Vincent noticed.
After the meeting, she closed the door.
“Anthony lied.”
“I know.”
“He also approved the Belize shell company three years ago.”
Vincent turned.
“You’re sure?”
“I memorized the authorization code because he uses his daughter’s birthday.”
Vincent stared at her.
“You memorize authorization codes?”
“You pay me extremely well.”
Vincent walked toward the window.
“Anthony was my father’s friend for thirty years.”
“Then either he’s involved, or someone wants us to think he is.”
A knock.
Leo entered.
“We found the doctor.”
Vincent turned.
“Bellini?”
“Living in Arizona under his mother’s maiden name.”
“Convenient.”
“He’s willing to talk.”
“Why?”
Leo smiled grimly.
“Because I told him Sebastian Costa has resurfaced.”
The smile disappeared.
“He started crying.”
They arranged a secure video call.
Dr. Bellini looked eighty instead of sixty-eight.
His hands trembled.
“I should have told you years ago.”
Vincent sat motionless.
“What happened to my father?”
Bellini swallowed.
“Carlo was poisoned.”
Mave looked at Vincent.
He showed nothing.
“What poison?”
“Something that mimicked cardiac failure.”
“Who gave it to him?”
“I don’t know.”
“That answer will not help you.”
Bellini began crying.
“Anthony called me. Said Carlo was sick. When I arrived, he was already dead.”
“Anthony Rizzo?”
“Yes.”
Vincent’s hand closed slowly into a fist.
“Why did you sign the certificate?”
“Because Anthony said Sebastian had returned. He said if I opened an investigation, people would die.”
Vincent leaned toward the screen.
“Did you see Sebastian?”
“No.”
“Then why believe him?”
Bellini closed his eyes.
“Because there was a note beside Carlo’s body.”
“What note?”
Bellini looked terrified even after sixteen years.
“It said, ‘One son down. One to go.’”
Vincent went still.
Mave understood.
One son.
Carlo.
One to go.
Vincent.
Sebastian had wanted the entire Costa line destroyed.
Except he did not know Mave existed.
Until now.
Vincent disconnected the call.
No one spoke.
Finally Mave said, “Anthony.”
Vincent nodded.
They went to Anthony’s house.
Empty.
His closet had been cleared.
His passport gone.
But Mave found something inside his office trash.
A torn receipt.
One-way charter reservation.
Destination: Montreal.
Departure: 2 p.m.
Vincent looked at the clock.
11:40.
“He’s running.”
They reached the private airport before Anthony’s plane departed.
Vincent confronted him inside the hangar.
Anthony looked twenty years older than he had that morning.
“I never wanted Carlo dead.”
Vincent’s voice was cold.
“You lied for sixteen years.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of Sebastian?”
Anthony looked at Mave.
“Of what he would do if he found her.”
Mave stepped forward.
“You knew about me?”
Anthony nodded.
“Your father trusted me with the company restructuring.”
“So the trust is real.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Carlo ordered me not to.”
“And after he died?”
Anthony laughed bitterly.
“You think becoming rich would have protected you? It would have painted a target on your back.”
Vincent moved closer.
“What happened the night he died?”
Anthony looked around the hangar.
Then lowered his voice.
“Sebastian came back.”
“In person?”
“Yes.”
“With who?”
Anthony’s eyes filled with shame.
“I let him into the building.”
Vincent grabbed his jacket.
Mave rushed forward.
“Vincent.”
He stopped.
Anthony whispered, “Carlo told me to.”
Vincent released him.
“What?”
“He knew Sebastian was coming. Carlo wanted to meet him.”
“Why?”
“To make a deal.”
Anthony looked at Mave.
“He offered Sebastian money, property, anything he wanted, if he agreed to stay away from you.”
Mave’s throat tightened.
“My father died protecting me.”
“Yes.”
Anthony continued.
“But Sebastian never planned to negotiate. He poisoned Carlo’s whiskey.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“I didn’t know until afterward.”
Vincent’s voice became deadly quiet.
“And then?”
“Sebastian told me to alter the books and keep the ownership trust hidden.”
“Why would he leave it intact?”
Anthony looked confused.
“He didn’t know where Carlo filed it.”
Mave suddenly understood.
“The Black Ledger.”
Anthony nodded.
“Carlo tied the trust to the ledger. Whoever legally activates your inheritance also unlocks instructions leading to the ledger.”
Vincent looked at Mave.
“That’s why Adrian needs you alive.”
Anthony shook his head.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
“Sebastian needs her alive.”
Vincent stared.
“You said Sebastian returned?”
Anthony looked frightened.
“He did.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
Anthony pulled out his phone.
“This was sent to me yesterday.”
A photograph.
Sebastian Costa.
Older now.
Silver hair.
Sharp eyes.
Standing beside Adrian.
Alive.
Mave felt cold.
Vincent took the phone.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
Bring me Carlo’s daughter before midnight tomorrow, or your family learns what loyalty cost you.
Vincent looked at Anthony.
“Why were you running?”
Anthony’s face broke.
“Because my wife and daughter disappeared this morning.”
Mave’s anger softened.
Anthony whispered, “Sebastian has them.”
Vincent released a slow breath.
“We get them back.”
Anthony stared.
“After everything I did?”
Vincent looked toward Mave.
Then back at him.
“My father believed family was worth protecting.”
He paused.
“So do I.”
They returned to Manhattan with a new problem.
Sebastian was alive.
Adrian was working with him.
Anthony’s family were hostages.
And the Black Ledger remained hidden.
That evening, Mave sat alone in Vincent’s study studying Carlo’s old corporate records.
Vincent entered with two coffees.
“One sugar?” she asked.
“You seem stressed.”
“Sugar is not therapy.”
“It’s cheaper.”
He set the cup beside her.
Their fingers touched.
Neither moved away quickly.
Mave looked up.
“I thought you hated events.”
“I do.”
“Then why did you really take me to the charity dinner?”
Vincent looked away.
“Donovan was actually sick.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Silence.
Then Vincent said, “Because I wanted you there.”
Mave’s heartbeat changed.
“Why?”
He looked at her.
The answer was in his face.
For three years, perhaps longer.
Before he could speak, the office computer chimed.
A new email.
No sender.
One attachment.
A photograph taken through the penthouse window.
Mave and Vincent standing together.
The timestamp:
Thirty seconds ago.
Vincent turned sharply toward the glass.
Across the street, on the roof of another building, a figure lowered a camera.
Then the email body appeared.
MIDNIGHT TOMORROW. BRING MAVE ALONE.
A second line loaded.
Or the next photograph will be of her funeral.
And beneath it was an address Vincent recognized immediately.
May you like
The abandoned Costa family mansion where Carlo had died.
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