Chapter 4 - The Judge at Table Nine

Marcus Vane was sitting at table nine.

He had not left the ballroom.

That surprised me.

Most guilty men run.

Some stay because they think the room still belongs to them.

Damien walked upstairs first.

Maria stayed below.

So did Julian.

She was not ready to face a ballroom full of people.

I understood.

Elena followed Damien.

Clara followed Elena.

Mr. Stern and Bell came behind them.

I stayed near the wall.

Still the maid.

Still fired.

The music stopped when Damien entered.

Every guest looked at him.

His black tuxedo was perfect.

His expression was not.

Judge Marcus Vane stood.

Sixty-eight.

Silver hair.

Navy tuxedo.

A man who had spent thirty years being listened to.

“Damien.”

Damien walked to table nine.

He placed the old photograph in front of him.

Vane looked down.

Then at Bell.

His face did not change.

“Where did you get this?”

Damien smiled slightly.

“Interesting first question.”

Vane sat back down.

“What is this about?”

“My father.”

Vane’s fingers stopped moving.

Damien continued.

“The real one.”

Silence spread across the ballroom.

Elena stood ten feet away.

Her dark red gown made her impossible to miss.

Damien placed a second paper on the table.

The death certificate.

Vane looked at it.

For the first time, his face changed.

“You shouldn’t have that.”

Damien leaned closer.

“Another interesting sentence.”

Vane looked at Clara.

She looked away.

Damien said:

“My father died three days before my mother disappeared.”

Vane did not answer.

“My uncle used his identity for eight years.”

Still nothing.

“You helped him.”

Vane looked around the room.

“This is not the place.”

Damien nodded.

“You’re right.”

He turned toward the guests.

“Everyone who is not family can leave.”

Nobody moved.

Damien looked at security.

“Open the doors.”

The doors opened.

Guests began leaving quickly.

Nobody asked for dessert.

Within minutes, only family.

Senior staff.

Bell.

Stern.

Vane.

The Rossis.

And me.

Vane looked at Damien.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Damien pulled out a chair.

“No.”

He sat across from him.

“I’m correcting one.”

Vane’s jaw tightened.

“What exactly do you think I did?”

Damien slid the photograph forward.

Bell spoke.

“You filed the emergency identity affidavit.”

Vane turned.

“You old fool.”

Bell flinched.

Damien looked at him.

“Thank you.”

Bell seemed confused.

“For what?”

“For answering the question.”

Vane realized too late.

Damien leaned back.

“So there was an affidavit.”

Vane’s face hardened.

“It was sixteen years ago.”

“What did it say?”

Vane said nothing.

Bell did.

“That Alessandro had suffered severe facial injuries in an accident.”

“That private medical care was required.”

“That public records should be limited because of security threats.”

Mr. Stern looked disgusted.

“There was no accident.”

“No.”

Bell swallowed.

“Victor had cosmetic work.”

Damien’s face emptied.

Elena covered her mouth.

Bell continued.

“Not enough to become Alessandro.”

“Enough to resemble him in public.”

“He used Alessandro’s clothes.”

“His cars.”

“His office.”

“His signatures.”

“Most people saw what they expected to see.”

Damien stared at Vane.

“And I was seventeen.”

Vane finally spoke.

“You were grieving.”

Damien’s eyes lifted.

“That is your defense?”

“No.”

Vane lowered his voice.

“My defense is that Victor told us Maria killed Alessandro.”

Maria’s voice came from the doorway.

“He lied.”

Everyone turned.

She stood beside Julian.

Damien rose immediately.

Maria walked into the ballroom.

Vane went pale.

“Maria.”

She looked at him.

“You always were a bad liar, Marcus.”

Vane stood.

“You disappeared.”

“You helped make sure I had to.”

Maria walked to the table.

She placed another document down.

A handwritten statement.

Vane recognized it.

His chair scraped backward.

Damien looked at the page.

“What is this?”

Maria answered.

“Your father wrote it the night he died.”

Damien read.

Victor has threatened Damien.

If anything happens to me, do not trust Marcus Vane.

Damien slowly looked up.

Vane’s face had lost its color.

“You had this for sixteen years?”

Maria nodded.

“I had a copy.”

“Where is the original?”

Maria looked at Clara.

Clara said nothing.

Damien turned.

“My mother gave you the ring.”

“And the key.”

“What else did she give you?”

Clara closed her eyes.

Maria answered.

“The original statement.”

Damien stared.

Clara whispered:

“I was trying to keep it safe.”

Maria’s voice sharpened.

“No.”

“You were trying to decide which side would win.”

Elena looked at her mother.

“Where is it?”

Clara did not answer.

Elena stepped closer.

“Mom.”

Clara’s eyes filled.

“I gave it to someone.”

Damien’s voice became dangerous.

“Who?”

Clara looked at Marcus Vane.

Vane stood very still.

Damien understood.

“You gave him the only original evidence against him.”

Clara nodded once.

Elena looked sick.

Damien turned to Vane.

“Where is it?”

Vane smiled for the first time.

“Gone.”

Maria watched him.

Then she smiled too.

Vane’s smile disappeared.

Maria said:

“No.”

Julian opened his briefcase.

He removed a sealed envelope.

“I replaced it before Clara ever left Florence.”

Vane stared.

Julian placed the envelope in front of Damien.

“Your father’s original statement.”

Damien touched it.

But Julian did not let go.

“There is one more page.”

Damien looked at him.

“What page?”

Julian’s expression changed.

“The page explaining why Alessandro believed Victor wanted him dead.”

He turned the envelope over.

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On the back was written one word.

Inheritance.