Chapter 7 - The Account in Vincent’s Name

We found Luca before we found Dominic.

Not because Raymond released him.

Because Luca escaped.

At 3:26 a.m., Camilla’s phone rang.

Her brother was calling from a gas station in Quincy.

His voice shook.

“They moved me in a delivery van.”

Camilla closed her eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

“My hand. I’m fine.”

Vincent took the phone.

“Where is my father?”

Luca went silent.

“Luca.”

“I don’t know.”

“You know something.”

“I heard Raymond tell someone to prepare Pier Nine.”

Vincent looked at me.

I knew that name.

Everyone working at the estate did.

Marino Shipping kept an old warehouse at Pier Nine.

Closed for renovation.

Vincent spoke carefully.

“What recording did you steal?”

Luca coughed.

“The one from Dominic’s study.”

“Why?”

“Because Raymond was going to destroy it after the transfer cleared.”

“What transfer?”

Luca laughed weakly.

“The one with your name on it.”

Vincent looked at the paper from Luca’s office.

“Nine million.”

“That is the visible transfer.”

Silence.

Luca continued.

“There are four more.”

Camilla sat down.

“How much?”

“Thirty-seven million total.”

Vincent’s face hardened.

“Where is it going?”

“Three offshore accounts and one trust.”

“What trust?”

Luca hesitated.

Then said:

“Camilla’s.”

She looked like she had been slapped.

“I don’t have a trust.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No.”

“Raymond created it eighteen months ago.”

Vincent looked at her.

Camilla shook her head.

“I swear.”

Luca continued.

“He planned to move the money before the wedding, then use the engagement and your access to Vincent’s companies to explain the transactions if anyone looked.”

Vincent’s voice lowered.

“So both our names carry the theft.”

“Yes.”

“And Raymond disappears behind us.”

“Yes.”

Camilla whispered:

“That’s why he wanted the engagement.”

Luca answered.

“That is why he pushed it.”

Vincent looked at her.

“Pushed?”

She nodded slowly.

“My brother introduced us.”

Vincent turned back to the phone.

“Did Raymond tell you to?”

Luca did not answer.

Camilla closed her eyes.

“Luca.”

“Yes.”

The room changed.

Camilla stared at nothing.

Vincent looked at her.

Their entire relationship had just acquired an invisible third person.

Luca spoke quickly.

“She didn’t know. I told her you were a good man. That part was true.”

Vincent’s expression did not move.

“You were paid?”

Silence.

“Luca.”

“Yes.”

Camilla stood.

“Hang up.”

Her brother said her name.

She ended the call.

For several seconds she said nothing.

Then she removed the engagement ring from her pocket.

She placed it on Dominic’s desk.

Exactly where Vincent had placed it earlier.

“I loved you.”

Vincent looked at the ring.

Camilla continued.

“I don’t expect that sentence to matter tonight.”

He finally looked at her.

“No.”

She nodded.

“I know.”

Mr. Bennett sat nearby with a bandage around his forehead.

He watched them without speaking.

Vincent turned to him.

“Pier Nine?”

The old man shook his head.

“Too obvious.”

Camilla looked at the floor plan on the wall.

“Unless Raymond wants you there.”

Vincent stared at her.

“What do you mean?”

“He called you before we went to Luca’s office.”

“Yes.”

“He wanted you to distrust Dominic.”

“Yes.”

“He knew Luca had contacted you.”

Vincent understood.

“He is controlling where I look.”

Camilla nodded.

Mr. Bennett stood slowly.

“Raymond has always done that.”

I looked at the transfer page again.

8:00 a.m.

Four hours away.

“Can Luca stop the transfers?”

Vincent called him back.

The answer was no.

Not from outside the bank network.

But Luca said there was one physical authorization token.

Raymond kept it in a private safe.

Vincent asked where.

Luca hesitated.

Then:

“Your father’s old restaurant.”

Vincent stared.

The first Marino restaurant had closed twelve years ago.

Raymond kept the building.

Vincent whispered:

“The Crown.”

Mr. Bennett looked at the tattoo on Vincent’s arm.

The same crown had been the restaurant’s original logo.

Dominic had not designed it for a secret lock.

He had copied something older.

Vincent looked at me.

“Evelyn.”

“Yes?”

“You remember the photograph in the box? My father outside the small house?”

“Yes.”

“Look behind him.”

I found it.

The photograph showed Dominic standing beside a white house.

Behind the fence was a black delivery truck.

On its side:

THE CROWN RESTAURANT SUPPLY.

The picture had not only proved Dominic was alive.

It had been pointing to the restaurant from the beginning.

Mr. Bennett smiled faintly.

“Dominic knew Raymond would search the obvious evidence.”

Vincent was already reaching for his coat.

Camilla stood.

“I’m coming.”

He looked at her.

“No.”

“Vincent—”

“No.”

She did not argue.

That hurt more.

We left her beside the ring.

Twenty minutes later, Vincent, Mr. Bennett, and I entered the abandoned restaurant through the kitchen.

The dining room was dark.

Dust covered the tables.

At the far wall stood the old crown logo.

Five points.

Two broken lines.

Vincent touched it.

A panel opened.

Inside was a safe.

Already unlocked.

Empty.

Except for one thing.

A photograph of Dominic tied to a chair at Pier Nine.

On the back, Raymond had written:

YOU FINALLY LEARNED TO FOLLOW DIRECTIONS.

Vincent stared at it.

Then Mr. Bennett turned the photograph toward the light.

“There’s something else.”

Tiny numbers in the corner.

A time.

4:15.

Not a demand.

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A deadline.

And it was twelve minutes away.