Chapter 7 - The Papers Hidden Behind the Portrait
I had never understood how loud darkness could be until that moment.
The estate’s emergency lights had not activated.
Smoke alarms wailed.
Rain struck the windows.
And outside Alexander’s bedroom stood the man whose father’s initials appeared in a seventeen-year-old ledger linked to another Romano’s death.
“Mr. Romano?” Julian called again.
Alexander raised one finger to his lips.
I nodded.
Eleanor stood beside the wall.
Keller reached for a heavy brass lamp.
It would have been funny under any other circumstances.
A respected physician preparing to defend one of Long Island’s most powerful men with bedroom furniture.
The handle turned.
Locked.
Julian tried again.
“Clara?”
I held my breath.
“Dr. Keller?”
No answer.
Then silence.
Footsteps retreated.
Alexander whispered, “Closet.”
“What?”
“There’s a service door behind it.”
I had cleaned that closet dozens of times.
“What service door?”
“False panel.”
Of course Alexander Romano had a hidden exit from his bedroom.
We moved quickly.
Behind tailored suits and coats, Alexander pressed a wooden molding.
The rear wall released.
A narrow corridor appeared.
“You knew this existed?” I asked Eleanor.
“No.”
Alexander smiled weakly.
“Good.”
Vincent’s voice suddenly came through my phone.
Signal.
“Where are you?”
“Alexander’s room.”
“Get out.”
“We’re trying.”
“Julian has a weapon.”
My stomach dropped.
“Was that him shooting?”
“No. Guard fired when Julian attacked him. Nobody hit.”
“Where is Julian?”
“West corridor.”
I looked at the hidden passage.
“That’s where we’re going.”
“Do not use the west—”
The call died.
Alexander swore.
We entered anyway.
The passage smelled of dust.
It ran behind the walls toward Lorenzo’s old office.
Halfway there Alexander stumbled.
I caught him.
“You shouldn’t be walking.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then stop behaving like being stubborn creates blood cells.”
Even Keller almost smiled.
We reached the old office.
The portrait had been moved aside.
Safe open.
Blue ledger gone.
“No,” Eleanor whispered.
Julian had taken it.
But something else had appeared.
Behind the safe was another compartment.
Alexander stared.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Inside were legal documents wrapped in oilcloth.
Letters.
Bank records.
A photograph of Lorenzo Romano beside Samuel Rook.
And one sealed envelope.
Alexander opened it.
The letter was from his father.
Alexander, if you are reading this, then either I was wrong about Samuel, or I waited too long to prove I was right.
Everyone went silent.
Alexander continued.
Lorenzo described discovering unauthorized transfers through companies controlled by Samuel Rook.
Millions disappearing over years.
When confronted, Samuel threatened to expose private information about the Romano family.
Lorenzo planned to remove him.
Then Lorenzo became sick.
The medication prescribed for a heart condition had been replaced.
Not enough to kill immediately.
Enough to weaken him.
Enough to make his eventual heart failure look natural.
Lorenzo suspected it.
But before he could prove it, he died.
Alexander’s hands shook.
Not from fever this time.
From rage.
At the end of the letter was one final line.
Samuel fears losing money. His son fears being invisible. Never underestimate a man who believes power is the only proof he exists.
Julian.
Keller sat heavily in a chair.
“Samuel did this to Lorenzo.”
“And Julian is finishing it,” Eleanor whispered.
Alexander looked at me.
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“He needs the amendment signed.”
“By Sebastian?”
“Yes.”
“Then Sebastian is in danger too.”
As if summoned by his name, Sebastian appeared in the doorway.
For once, his perfect composure was gone.
“What amendment?”
Alexander stared at him.
“You’re supposed to be unconscious.”
“Disappointing?”
Sebastian’s face hardened.
Then Alexander handed him the document.
He read it.
Once.
Again.
“You didn’t know,” I said.
Sebastian looked insulted.
“Of course I didn’t know.”
“He was using you.”
Sebastian sank into a chair.
For years, he and Alexander had fought over control.
Power.
Direction.
Family reputation.
But in that moment he looked less like a rival and more like a man discovering someone had exploited every weakness he possessed.
“I thought the emergency transfer made me acting chairman.”
“It did,” Alexander said. “For approximately seven minutes.”
Sebastian looked up.
“Then the trust assumes voting authority.”
“Yes.”
“With Julian as trustee.”
“Yes.”
Sebastian laughed.
There was no humor in it.
“That little parasite.”
A sound came from the hidden passage.
Everyone turned.
Vincent emerged.
Blood ran from a cut above his eyebrow.
“Julian took the ledger.”
“We know.”
“He also took something else.”
“What?”
Vincent looked at Alexander.
“The original company seal.”
Sebastian stood.
“What does he need that for?”
Alexander’s expression became grim.
“To validate emergency resolutions.”
Vincent nodded.
“And there’s more.”
“What?”
“The fire was a distraction.”
“For what?”
Vincent looked toward the windows.
“The estate’s private helicopter is gone.”
Silence.
Sebastian swore.
“Then he escaped.”
“No.”
Vincent’s expression became even darker.
“The helicopter returned eight minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“Nobody knows.”
“Who was onboard?”
Vincent answered slowly.
“No pilot.”
A chill went through me.
A helicopter had flown away from the estate.
Then returned empty.
Which meant Julian had either jumped somewhere nearby—
or someone else had been waiting for him.
Then Eleanor noticed the photograph.
She lifted it.
On the back Lorenzo had written three words.
Samuel. Julian. Marcus.
We all stared.
Marcus Dane.
The dead man whose name had been used at the pharmacy.
May you like
Only perhaps Marcus Dane had not died after all.
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