Chapter 4 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Nico did not speak for almost a minute.
Mara wished he would.
Anger would have been easier.
Denial would have been understandable.
Instead, Nico stared at the photograph of his father.
Rafael Bellini Sr.
The man who had supposedly disappeared seven years earlier.
“My father wasn't a murderer,” Nico finally said.
Dante looked at him.
“I didn't say he was.”
“She did.”
Mara shook her head.
“I said I saw him.”
“At an accident eight years ago.”
“Yes.”
“You were injured.”
“Yes.”
“It was raining.”
“Yes.”
“You've spent years trying to remember—”
“Nico.”
Dante's voice stopped him.
Nico turned.
Dante spoke calmly.
“She isn't accusing your father of causing the crash. She remembers seeing him there.”
Nico looked away.
That distinction mattered.
Barely.
Dante replayed the cassette from Alessandro's deposit box.
Static filled the room.
Then Alessandro's voice.
“If anything happens to me, Vincent is not working alone.”
Another voice followed.
Thomas Ellison.
“I saw Bellini changing the truck logs.”
Nico closed his eyes.
Thomas continued.
“But I don't think Rafael is the one giving orders.”
Dante leaned forward.
Then a third name emerged through the static.
Richard Vale.
Nico looked up.
Dante's face became still.
Mara asked, “Who is Richard Vale?”
“A lawyer,” Dante said.
“Whose?”
“My family's.”
Richard Vale had handled Moretti legal affairs for twenty-two years.
He had negotiated Dante's first legitimate acquisitions.
He had administered Alessandro's estate.
He had also been present at Vincent's funeral.
And three weeks earlier, he had advised Dante to destroy old Calder Freight records because they created “unnecessary liability.”
Dante stood.
“Find him.”
Nico made several calls.
Vale wasn't home.
His office was empty.
His phone was disconnected.
“He knew,” Mara said.
Dante nodded.
“And now he knows we're looking.”
That evening, Dante moved Mara into one of the penthouse guest suites.
She objected immediately.
“I don't need protection.”
“You received threatening messages.”
“I can stay with a friend.”
“Which makes your friend a target.”
Mara had no answer.
Dante opened the guest-room door.
“You stay here until we know who sent them.”
“Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
“You're very irritating.”
“So I've been told.”
“Frequently?”
“Mostly by you.”
For the first time in days, Mara almost smiled.
Dante noticed.
So did she.
The moment disappeared quickly.
Later that night, Mara found Dante alone beside the windows.
No jacket.
Sleeves rolled to his elbows.
Tattoos covered his forearms.
He held his father's letter.
“You blame yourself,” Mara said.
Dante didn't turn.
“For what?”
“Not asking what happened in 2018.”
“I was twenty-five. Vincent called. Told me something went wrong. Told me not to ask.”
“And you listened.”
“Yes.”
“Because he was family.”
“Yes.”
Mara moved closer.
“You didn't cause the accident.”
“I helped build the world that made people afraid to question men like him.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
Dante finally looked at her.
“But it isn't nothing.”
Mara understood that kind of guilt.
For years, she had wondered whether her father would still be alive if she hadn't asked him to drive her into town that night.
Two people carrying guilt for disasters neither had created.
Neither knew what to do with it.
Dante's gaze dropped briefly toward her prosthetic.
“Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
She expected pity.
Instead he asked, “What helps?”
The simplicity of the question surprised her.
“Taking the weight off.”
Dante pulled out a chair.
Mara laughed quietly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're laughing.”
“Dante Moretti just offered me a chair.”
“I own several.”
That made her laugh properly.
It was the first time he had heard it.
Something shifted between them.
Then Nico entered.
His expression destroyed the moment.
“We found Vale.”
“Where?”
“We didn't.”
Dante frowned.
Nico placed a document on the table.
“But we found this.”
It was a death certificate.
Rafael Bellini Sr.
According to the document, Nico's father had died seven years earlier in Argentina.
Nico stared at it.
“It's fake.”
“How do you know?” Mara asked.
“Because I spoke to him six months after this date.”
Dante turned sharply.
“You never told me that.”
“He called once. Said he had to disappear. Told me never to look for him.”
“Where was he?”
“I don't know.”
Dante studied his oldest friend.
“Anything else you've forgotten to mention?”
Pain flashed across Nico's face.
“No.”
Before Dante could respond, the penthouse intercom sounded.
Security.
Dante answered.
“Mr. Moretti, there's someone downstairs asking for Miss Ellison.”
Mara froze.
“Who?”
The guard hesitated.
“He says his name is Rafael Bellini.”
Nico went white.
Dante looked at him.
“Your father?”
Nico rushed toward the monitor.
An older man stood in the lobby.
Gray hair.
Weathered face.
Mara stared.
Eight years vanished.
Rain.
Broken glass.
Her father's voice.
The same face leaning into the wrecked car.
But another memory came with it.
Not violence.
The man had been trying to open her door.
Trying to save her.
Mara whispered, “He helped me.”
Nico turned.
“What?”
“He wasn't there to hurt us.”
Dante activated the elevator.
Minutes later, Rafael Bellini Sr. entered the penthouse.
Nico stared at his father as though seeing a ghost.
Rafael's eyes filled.
“Son.”
Nico didn't move.
Dante stepped forward.
“Tell us what happened.”
Rafael looked at Mara.
“I've waited eight years to say this.”
Mara's chest tightened.
“Who caused the accident?”
Rafael shook his head.
“The truck was supposed to frighten your father. Force him off the road. Vincent wanted the ledger.”
“Instead it hit us.”
“Yes.”
“Who was driving?”
Rafael looked toward Dante.
“Richard Vale.”
Silence.
Dante's eyes narrowed.
“A lawyer drove the truck?”
“He wasn't always a lawyer.”
Rafael reached into his coat.
He removed a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Richard Vale stood beside Vincent Moretti.
Between them was another man.
Dante recognized him immediately.
The current chairman of Moretti Holdings.
A man Dante trusted.
A man who had attended every family Christmas since Dante was a child.
His godfather.
Samuel Carbone.
Rafael spoke quietly.
“Vincent wasn't the head of the operation.”
Dante stared at Carbone's photograph.
“Then who was?”
Rafael pointed at Samuel.
“He was.”
And at that exact moment, Dante's phone displayed a message from Samuel Carbone.
May you like
We need to talk about the girl.
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