Chapter 4 - A Traitor at the Table

By the fourth day, every conversation in the estate had changed.

Vittorio still came for Sunday dinner.

Silas Bell still answered legal calls.

Board members still smiled at Dante.

But now Lucy heard the pauses between words.

She heard men say “of course” when they meant “I need time.”

She heard “family” when they meant “leverage.”

And she heard fear in people who believed no one had noticed.

Dante arranged Sunday dinner exactly as usual.

Lucy hated the plan.

“This is theater.”

“It’s surveillance.”

“It’s theater with better furniture.”

Enzo adjusted his cuff.

“She’s not wrong.”

Dante looked at him.

“Whose side are you on?”

“The side that gets dessert.”

Lucy placed a small earpiece under her hair.

“No weapons at the table.”

Dante stared.

“That’s not your decision.”

“It is if you want me in the room.”

Vittorio arrived at seven.

He kissed Dante’s cheek.

“Nephew.”

“Uncle.”

Then he looked at Lucy.

“Miss Warren.”

“You remembered my name.”

“I make a habit of remembering complications.”

Lucy smiled.

“So did my father.”

For the first time, Vittorio’s expression shifted.

Only a fraction.

But she saw it.

Silas Bell arrived next, carrying a leather briefcase.

He was seventy, thin, immaculate, with the calm expression of a man who had spent forty years making ugly things sound legal.

“Lucy.”

“Mr. Bell.”

“I handled your father’s estate.”

“I know.”

“A tragedy.”

“Which part?”

He blinked.

“His death.”

“I wondered whether you meant the forged debt.”

Dante took a drink to hide a reaction.

Silas looked at him.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“That’s a dangerous phrase in this house,” Lucy said.

Vittorio smiled.

“You have become bold.”

“No. I became informed.”

Dinner began.

The first course lasted six minutes before Dante started.

“Felix Grant is missing.”

Vittorio cut his food.

“I heard.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No.”

“Silas?”

“No.”

Lucy watched Silas’s left hand.

He rubbed his thumb against his ring.

Nervous habit.

Dante continued.

“We found discrepancies in Felix’s translations.”

Vittorio shrugged.

“Then fire him.”

“I did.”

“Problem solved.”

“No.”

Dante leaned back.

“We also found old Raven Desk records.”

Silas’s thumb stopped.

Vittorio did not move.

Lucy thought, There.

Dante asked, “Do you remember Raven Four?”

Vittorio’s eyes shifted toward him.

“Vaguely.”

Lucy said, “That’s interesting.”

He turned.

“Why?”

“Because the name isn’t written on the outside of any surviving index.”

Silence.

Vittorio smiled again.

“Then perhaps I remember hearing it.”

“From whom?”

“Your father.”

“My father didn’t speak to you after 2018.”

His smile faded.

Lucy had lied.

She had no idea when Owen last spoke to Vittorio.

But Vittorio had corrected nothing.

Dante saw it too.

Vittorio set down his fork.

“I did not come here to be interrogated by domestic staff.”

Lucy’s voice stayed calm.

“I’m not domestic staff.”

“What are you?”

She looked at Dante.

“Expensive.”

Enzo choked on his wine.

Even Dante smiled.

Vittorio did not.

After dinner, the guests moved to the drawing room.

Lucy excused herself.

In the corridor, Enzo caught up with her.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“No.”

“You called yourself expensive.”

“I am expensive.”

“That part, you enjoyed.”

She almost smiled.

Then her face changed.

“What?”

Enzo followed her gaze.

Silas’s briefcase sat beside the coat stand.

“He never lets that out of his hand,” Lucy whispered.

“So?”

“So why did he leave it?”

“Trap?”

“Probably.”

“Then don’t touch it.”

Lucy crouched.

“I’m not going to.”

She examined the brass combination lock.

There were faint scratches around three numbers.

1, 7, 4.

Enzo noticed.

“Could be random.”

“Nothing is random tonight.”

Lucy stood.

“Ask Dante what happened in 1974.”

“Why?”

“Because old men choose passwords from things they believe belong to them.”

Enzo disappeared.

Lucy stayed near the case.

A minute later, Silas came around the corner.

He stopped.

She smiled.

“Looking for this?”

His gaze dropped to the briefcase.

“I wondered where I left it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Silas looked at her.

“You’re very confident for a young woman with no protection.”

“Who said I have no protection?”

“I meant legal protection.”

“So did I.”

His expression chilled.

“You should take the offer.”

“What offer?”

“Your freedom.”

“I already have it.”

“Five hundred thousand pounds. New identity. Apartment anywhere in Europe.”

Lucy stared at him.

“That’s specific.”

“You’ve suffered enough.”

“Because of you?”

His lips tightened.

“I’m trying to help.”

“Then tell me why you forged my father’s debt.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You authenticated a dead man’s signature.”

Silas’s face stayed calm.

“Administrative error.”

“You liquidated my mother’s estate into a company named after her nickname.”

“That is a coincidence.”

“You used dead people as financial camouflage.”

His eyes sharpened.

Lucy knew she had hit something.

Silas stepped closer.

“Your father was brilliant.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“He was also reckless.”

“So I’ve heard that too.”

“He believed truth had moral value.”

Lucy frowned.

“You don’t?”

“I believe information has value. Truth is merely one form of it.”

“That sounds like something a lawyer says before prison.”

His smile returned.

“You think Dante will protect you?”

“I think Dante is deciding what kind of man he is.”

“And if he chooses blood?”

“Then I’ll know.”

Silas lifted the briefcase.

“Take the money, Lucy.”

“No.”

“Your parents would want you safe.”

“My parents would want you to stop speaking for them.”

He left.

Enzo returned.

“1974 was Vittorio’s first year in London.”

Lucy looked down the corridor.

“Not Silas’s.”

“No.”

“Then the scratches are bait.”

Enzo frowned.

“For us?”

“For anyone watching.”

She looked toward the drawing room.

“Silas wants us focused on Vittorio.”

“Maybe Vittorio is the problem.”

“He is. But maybe not the only one.”

Dante joined them.

“What happened?”

Lucy told him about the offer.

His jaw hardened.

“He threatened you.”

“He bribed me.”

“Same thing from Silas.”

Enzo said, “We should detain him.”

“No,” Lucy said.

Dante glared at her.

“Contract.”

“This is not about your contract.”

“No. It’s about evidence.”

She lowered her voice.

“If you detain him, Vittorio knows we’re moving. If you let him leave, he thinks I might take the offer.”

“You didn’t.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

Dante studied her.

“You want to pretend you accepted.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because it puts you alone with Bell.”

“So?”

“So I don’t like it.”

Lucy looked at him.

“That isn’t strategic.”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Enzo took one slow step backward.

Dante noticed.

“Don’t.”

Enzo held up both hands.

“I said nothing.”

Lucy looked at Dante.

“What is it?”

His answer was too quick.

“Responsibility.”

“Try again.”

Dante’s eyes met hers.

“Fear.”

She went quiet.

He continued.

“I am afraid that this will cost you what it cost your parents.”

Lucy’s anger softened despite herself.

“Then help me make sure it doesn’t.”

Silence.

Finally he nodded.

The next morning, Lucy called Silas.

“I want the five hundred thousand.”

His answer came after three rings.

“I thought you might reconsider.”

“I want cash.”

“That is inconvenient.”

“So is forged debt.”

A pause.

“Fine.”

“And I leave tonight.”

“Agreed.”

“Where?”

Silas gave her the address of an old townhouse near Belgravia.

Dante listened from across the room.

When the call ended, he said, “You’re not going.”

“I am.”

“Lucy.”

“Dante.”

Enzo looked between them.

“This is going to be a long day.”

Dante ignored him.

“We can put someone in your place.”

“Silas knows my face.”

“We can wire you.”

“He’ll check.”

“We can put surveillance outside.”

“He’ll see it.”

“You’re asking me to send you unprotected into a meeting with a man who may have helped kill your father.”

Lucy’s voice stayed level.

“No. I’m asking you to trust me enough to prepare.”

That hit harder than an argument.

Dante walked to the window.

“What do you need?”

“Two phones.”

“Done.”

“A car not linked to you.”

“Done.”

“Someone Silas doesn’t know.”

“Harder.”

“Find one.”

Enzo said, “I know a woman.”

Both turned.

“Who?” Dante asked.

“Former customs investigator. Nora Finch.”

Dante frowned.

“You trust her?”

“With my life.”

Lucy looked at him.

“Would she trust you with hers?”

Enzo considered.

“Probably not.”

“Good. Hire her.”

That evening, Nora Finch met Lucy in a café.

Forty-five, short blond hair, tired eyes, no patience.

“You’re the maid.”

“Former maid.”

“You’re the woman Dante Moretti is risking half his empire over.”

Lucy nearly spilled her tea.

“He is not.”

Nora smiled.

“Good. You’re smarter than he is.”

“I was told you don’t like him.”

“I don’t like organized crime.”

“Reasonable.”

“I like corrupt lawyers even less.”

Lucy slid Silas’s offer across the table.

Nora read it.

“This isn’t a buyout.”

“What is it?”

“A relocation package.”

“Difference?”

“A buyout pays you to stay quiet.”

Nora tapped the paper.

“This pays you to disappear.”

Lucy’s stomach tightened.

“You think he plans to kill me.”

“I think he wants everyone to believe you left voluntarily.”

Lucy stared at the signature.

“Then I need to go.”

Nora looked at her as if she were insane.

“No, you need to run.”

“If I run, he wins.”

“If you die, he also wins.”

“I’m not going alone.”

Nora leaned back.

“What’s the plan?”

Lucy smiled faintly.

“Translate the silence.”

Before leaving for Belgravia, Lucy found Dante waiting by the front door.

“You’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The silent intimidation.”

“I’m standing.”

“You’re standing like a threat.”

“That is apparently my face.”

She looked at him.

“If I don’t come back in forty minutes, Nora moves.”

“Thirty.”

“Forty.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Fine.”

He handed her a small brass button.

“What is this?”

“Panic transmitter.”

“I said no obvious wire.”

“It isn’t a wire.”

“Does Nora know?”

“Yes.”

Lucy put it in her coat pocket.

“Thank you.”

Dante blinked.

“That sounded sincere.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He caught her wrist lightly before she turned away.

Lucy looked down.

He released her immediately.

“Sorry.”

She looked at him.

“What?”

He hesitated.

“Come back.”

The simplicity of it unsettled her.

Not an order.

Not a strategy.

A request.

“I intend to.”

“That isn’t the same thing.”

“No.”

Lucy opened the door.

“Dante.”

“Yes?”

“If I am right about Silas, he wants something from me more than he wants me dead.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

She looked at him.

“Then you’ll have thirty-five minutes to complain.”

He almost smiled.

“Thirty.”

She shook her head.

“Control issues.”

“Occupational hazard.”

Lucy stepped into the night.

For the first time, she understood that Dante’s anger was easier for him than fear.

And that his fear had begun to include her.

At the Belgravia townhouse, Silas Bell opened the door at nine sharp.

No guards.

No staff.

Only a briefcase on the dining table.

“Five hundred thousand,” he said.

Lucy looked around.

“You live here?”

“No.”

“Who does?”

“No one.”

“Appropriate.”

He smiled.

“You always were Owen’s daughter.”

Lucy sat.

Silas opened the case.

Cash.

“Passport,” he said. “Name: Louise Ward.”

Lucy picked it up.

“Very original.”

“You leave for Zurich at midnight.”

“And if I don’t?”

His smile vanished.

“You will.”

Lucy heard something in the next room.

Not footsteps.

A faint click.

A recorder.

She looked at Silas.

“Someone else is here.”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

He stood.

“Take the money.”

Lucy remained seated.

“Who killed my father?”

Silas’s face changed.

Not fear.

Sadness.

That surprised her.

“Your father killed himself with loyalty.”

“What does that mean?”

“He trusted Maria Moretti.”

“And?”

“She trusted her husband.”

Lucy leaned forward.

“Dante’s father.”

“Yes.”

Silas’s voice dropped.

“And Aldo Moretti trusted his brother.”

Vittorio.

Lucy’s pulse quickened.

“So Vittorio killed them?”

Silas looked toward the dark doorway.

“No.”

A floorboard creaked behind him.

Silas turned.

His face drained of color.

A man stepped from the shadows.

Felix Grant.

Alive.

He held a small recorder.

Lucy’s breath caught.

Felix smiled.

“Hello, maid.”

Silas whispered, “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

Felix’s smile widened.

“That’s the problem with translations, Silas.”

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He pressed record.

“People keep changing the meaning.”