Chapter 11 - A Wedding Invitation Written as a Threat
At seven the following morning, an envelope arrived at Dante Moretti's residence.
It was ivory-colored, embossed with delicate gold lettering, and sealed with dark-red wax.
Marco inspected it before bringing it into the library.
"No return address."
Dante took it.
Inside was a wedding invitation.
You are cordially invited to witness the union of Victor Hargrove and Vanessa Sloan.
Saturday, November 21.
Seven o'clock in the evening.
The Hargrove Estate.
Dante frowned.
Victor was getting married in four days.
Underneath the invitation rested a smaller card.
Its message had been printed in black.
The bride would be delighted if you brought your beloved waitress.
On the reverse was a photograph.
Rosa.
Sitting alone in an unfamiliar bedroom beside a dark waterfront.
Dante's fingers tightened.
Marco read the message over his shoulder.
"They're using the wedding."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Dante looked at the invitation again.
Victor and Vanessa.
Hargrove and Sloan.
Two families bound by business, money, and secrets.
A public celebration provided the perfect cover for a private transaction.
If Meredith intended to make him surrender control of his companies, she wanted witnesses nearby who would see a respectable social event, not the negotiations happening behind its closed doors.
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Dante answered.
"Moretti."
A distorted voice replied.
"You received the invitation."
"Where is Rosa?"
"Safe, provided you remain cooperative."
"I want to speak to her."
"That can be arranged."
A brief rustling sound followed.
Then Rosa's voice came through.
"Dante?"
His entire body went rigid.
"Rosa. Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Where are you?"
"I don't know exactly."
A pause.
Then she spoke slightly louder.
"It's cold by the lake. I can hear the freight trains at night."
Someone interrupted her.
"Enough."
Dante's voice hardened.
"Let her speak."
Rosa quickly added, "Dante, don't sign anything."
The connection ended.
Dante stared at the phone.
She was alive.
And she had just warned him that the invitation involved documents.
Marco looked toward him.
"What now?"
Dante placed the envelope on the desk.
"Now we find out what they expect me to sign."
Inside the waterfront house, Meredith Sloan was furious.
She stood opposite Rosa, holding the disconnected telephone.
"Do you believe you're clever?"
Rosa sat on the bed.
"No. I believe I deserve to go home."
"You were instructed to reassure him."
"I told him I was alive."
"You also told him not to sign anything."
Rosa shrugged.
"An old habit. I never recommend signing documents without reading them."
Meredith's jaw tightened.
From the doorway, Victor laughed.
"God, she really doesn't know when to shut up."
Rosa looked up.
He wore another expensive suit, this one dark navy, with polished shoes and a watch that probably cost more than her mother's rehabilitation bills.
There was something deeply absurd about his appearance.
Four days earlier, he had assaulted her over spilled water.
Now he stood inside a property where she was being held against her will, apparently expecting everything to end in his favor.
"Shouldn't you be planning your wedding?" Rosa asked.
Victor smiled.
"Vanessa's handling it."
"Congratulations. You seem perfectly suited to each other."
He stepped toward her.
Meredith raised a hand.
"Victor. Outside."
"She needs to understand—"
"I said outside."
He stopped.
Rosa watched him leave.
Then she turned toward Meredith.
"Does your daughter know what you're doing?"
Meredith calmly adjusted her bracelet.
"My daughter understands loyalty."
"Is that what you call it?"
"Call it whatever you like. By Saturday, the East Harbor situation will be resolved, Dante will have agreed to our terms, and you'll be free to disappear somewhere comfortable."
Rosa stood.
"I am not disappearing."
Meredith studied her.
"That's what your father said."
The words struck like a physical blow.
Rosa took a step closer.
"Tell me what happened to him."
Meredith looked toward the window.
"Thomas was an excellent engineer. He became an inconvenient businessman."
"He wasn't a businessman."
"Everyone becomes one when enough money is involved."
"Not him."
Meredith's expression briefly changed.
Perhaps irritation.
Perhaps something resembling regret.
"Your father believed that exposing the truth would protect his family. He underestimated how many people would suffer when the investment structure collapsed."
"Did you order his death?"
Meredith met her eyes.
"I didn't tell anyone to kill Thomas Bellamy."
Rosa held her gaze.
"But you knew he was being threatened."
A pause.
"Yes."
"And you let it happen."
Meredith turned away.
"I have a wedding to organize."
Later that afternoon, Lucia entered Rosa's room carrying fresh towels.
This time, Rosa understood how she had avoided recognition.
Her hair was shorter than in the old photograph.
A thin scar crossed one eyebrow.
She wore plain clothes and moved like someone accustomed to being overlooked.
"How have you been here?" Rosa whispered.
"Six weeks."
"But Dante thinks you've been missing for eleven years."
"I know."
"Where were you?"
Lucia glanced toward the door.
"Working under another identity. I left Chicago when I realized Carlo was accessing accounts I was investigating. A man I trusted tried to hand me over to him."
"Why didn't you contact your family?"
"I sent messages. They never reached Dante. Later, I discovered Carlo controlled the channels I had used."
Her voice trembled.
"Eventually, I was afraid that contacting him would bring the same people to my door. I needed proof before returning."
"So you came here?"
"Meredith hired temporary staff for the wedding preparations at this property. I used false employment records and got inside."
Rosa stared at her.
"You deliberately walked into this place?"
"I found evidence that Thomas Bellamy had hidden records linking Carlo to the financial transfers. When I heard his daughter was involved, I couldn't stay away."
She slipped a small piece of paper beneath the towels.
"There's a service entrance behind the laundry room. I can get you out tomorrow night."
"Why not now?"
"Because Meredith moved additional security downstairs. Tonight they're transferring files from the basement archive."
Rosa looked at the folded paper.
"What kind of files?"
"Original payment instructions. Property deeds. Internal correspondence."
Lucia swallowed.
"And documents showing what happened the night your father died."
Rosa's pulse quickened.
"Have you seen them?"
"Some."
"What happened?"
Lucia hesitated.
"Thomas had arranged to meet a government investigator. Someone inside the company learned about it."
Rosa waited.
"His safety harness had been removed from its proper storage. The maintenance records were changed afterward."
The room seemed to narrow around her.
"Are you saying it wasn't an accident?"
"I'm saying someone interfered with the equipment before he went onto that platform."
Rosa pressed a trembling hand against her mouth.
For seven years, she had wondered.
Had her father made a terrible mistake?
Had fatigue caused him to fall?
Had there been something wrong with the platform?
Now a much uglier possibility stood directly in front of her.
Lucia took her hand.
"We still need the original records to establish exactly who did what."
Rosa nodded through tears.
Then she looked at the door.
"Get me into that archive."
Lucia hesitated.
"Rosa—"
"My father spent his last weeks trying to protect people he'd never met. I'm not leaving his work behind for Meredith to destroy."
Lucia studied her.
Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
"My brother always did fall for stubborn women."
That evening, Dante received a second message.
This one came from an account associated with Carlo's private office.
Saturday. Seven o'clock. Bring the controlling-interest documents for Moretti Holdings.
Sign them, and Rosa comes home.
Attached was a detailed proposed transfer agreement.
Dante examined the final page.
The beneficiary was not Carlo.
Not Meredith.
Not Richard Hargrove.
It was a company registered in Delaware.
LUCIA MORETTI HERITAGE TRUST.
May you like
Dante stared at the name of his missing sister.
And for the first time in eleven years, he wondered whether the truth about Lucia was even stranger than her disappearance.
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