Chapter 3 - The Photograph in Her Backpack
Marcus Moretti arrived at Adrian's estate at 1:08 in the morning wearing a charcoal overcoat and the expression of a man annoyed at being summoned.
At sixty-two, he had perfected harmlessness.
Silver hair.
Measured voice.
Catholic charities.
Christmas gifts for employees' children.
He had also buried three rivals before Adrian finished high school.
Adrian placed the note on the desk.
Marcus read it.
His face revealed nothing.
“Where did you get this?”
“Answer the question.”
“Which question?”
“Did you order Claire killed?”
Marcus looked toward the window.
“So she's alive.”
Adrian felt the room contract.
He had not told him.
“Interesting choice of words.”
Marcus sighed.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
Marcus did.
“Your father wanted her gone.”
“I know.”
“No, Adrian. You know the version she was allowed to know.”
Adrian stared.
Marcus folded his hands.
“Vittorio ordered Claire's death.”
The silence afterward was enormous.
“I stopped it.”
Adrian didn't move.
“You?”
“I arranged the burned car. The blood. The false trail.”
“You were the mystery man.”
“Yes.”
Adrian crossed the room and hit him.
Marcus toppled from the chair.
Dominic moved instinctively, then stopped.
Marcus touched his split lip.
“I expected that years ago.”
“You let me bury her.”
“I kept her alive.”
“You let me spend eight years thinking—”
“And what would you have done if I'd told you?”
Adrian grabbed him by the collar.
“Killed my father?”
Marcus smiled bitterly.
“Exactly.”
Claire appeared in the doorway.
She had heard enough.
“You.”
Marcus looked at her.
“You've aged better than I expected.”
Claire slapped him.
Hard.
“I'll take that too.”
“Why did you stop contacting me?”
“Because Vittorio realized someone had betrayed him.”
Marcus wiped blood from his mouth.
“I needed him looking at me, not you.”
Claire's anger faltered.
“He suspected you?”
“For six years.”
Adrian released him.
“My father died believing Claire was dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then who has been watching Sophie?”
Marcus's expression changed.
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
Adrian looked at Dominic.
Dominic had become strangely quiet.
Marcus noticed too.
“Where did the note come from?”
Adrian explained.
When he mentioned the bracelet, Marcus stood.
“Show me.”
They returned to Sophie's room.
The child was awake, eating crackers.
Marcus saw the bracelet.
His face drained.
“That isn't your mother's.”
“It has her crest.”
“Turn it over.”
Adrian did.
Three tiny letters were engraved beneath the clasp.
E.M.M.
Elena Marie Moretti.
Adrian's younger sister.
Dead at seventeen.
Killed in a car accident.
Marcus whispered, “That bracelet disappeared the night Elena died.”
Adrian stared at him.
“What are you saying?”
“I'm saying whoever delivered this has been inside your family longer than any of us realized.”
Sophie tugged Adrian's sleeve.
“I have another picture.”
Claire turned sharply.
“What?”
“In my backpack.”
Sophie retrieved a photograph.
This one wasn't the old picture of Adrian and Claire.
It was recent.
A man stood across the street from Sophie's school.
Sophie had apparently photographed him accidentally while taking a picture of a dog.
Adrian knew the face.
So did Dominic.
Claire noticed Dominic's reaction.
“You know him.”
Dominic didn't answer.
Adrian looked at him.
“Dom.”
Dominic swallowed.
“That man's name is Daniel Cross.”
“Who is he?”
Dominic looked at Marcus.
Then at Adrian.
“He worked for your father.”
“Doing what?”
“Problems.”
Marcus finished the sentence.
“He made problems disappear.”
Adrian looked at the photograph again.
Daniel Cross had supposedly died eleven years ago.
Except Sophie had photographed him three months earlier.
Alive.
Standing outside her school.
And watching her.
---
They found Cross before sunrise.
Or rather, Cross allowed himself to be found.
He was sitting inside an empty diner on Route 6, drinking coffee.
Adrian entered alone.
“You've been watching my daughter.”
Cross smiled.
“So Marcus finally told you.”
Adrian sat opposite him.
“Why?”
“To keep her alive.”
“I've heard that line already.”
“You should. Half your family has spent eight years trying to do exactly that.”
“Half?”
Cross slid a folder across the table.
Inside were financial records.
Payments.
Millions transferred through Moretti companies.
Adrian recognized the authorization codes.
They belonged to someone at the highest level.
“Someone's been funding surveillance on Sophie since she was born,” Cross said.
“Who?”
Cross drank his coffee.
“The same person who knew Claire was pregnant before she did.”
“My father.”
“No.”
Adrian's fingers stopped.
Cross leaned forward.
“Vittorio didn't discover the pregnancy through medical records.”
“Then how?”
“Someone told him.”
“Who?”
“Someone who wanted him angry enough to order Claire's death.”
Adrian understood.
His father had been manipulated.
Cross continued.
“Marcus saved Claire. I watched Sophie. We thought Vittorio was the threat.”
“You were wrong.”
“Yes.”
“Who is it?”
Cross looked toward the window.
A car had parked across the road.
His expression changed.
“Get down.”
Gunfire shattered the diner.
Adrian overturned the table.
Cross drew his weapon.
Rounds punched through the windows.
Adrian fired toward the sedan.
The attackers fled.
Cross was on the floor.
Blood spread across his shirt.
Adrian pressed a hand against the wound.
“Who?”
Cross coughed.
“Your family has one rule.”
“Save your breath.”
“Blood inherits.”
“Cross.”
“That's why she matters.”
“Sophie?”
Cross nodded.
“Not because she's your daughter.”
Adrian leaned closer.
“Then why?”
Cross's eyes struggled to focus.
“Because according to Vittorio's real will…”
He coughed blood.
May you like
“…everything belongs to her.”
---
