Chapter 2 - The Car That Never Reached the Bridge

By twelve-oh-three, the Grand Aurelia had stopped being a charity gala.

It had become a locked building full of frightened wealthy people pretending not to be frightened.

Luca stood beneath the emergency lights with the photograph in one hand and his phone in the other.

Emma was gone.

Vittorio Bellini was gone.

And somebody had just told Luca he should have waited two years.

Marco returned from the service entrance.

“Her car left sixty-eight seconds before the lockdown.”

“Driver?”

“Registered to Judge Harper.”

“Route?”

“South toward the bridge.”

Luca looked at the photograph again.

Daniel Carter.

Vittorio Bellini.

His father.

And sixteen-year-old Emma smiling as though none of the men behind her would one day turn her life into a secret.

“Find the car.”

Marco was already moving.

Belini remained near the staircase in her red gown, arms folded tightly across herself.

Luca looked at her.

“You knew Daniel Carter did not die in an accident.”

“I knew my father called it an accident before the police did.”

That was not the same answer.

It was worse.

“When?”

“Seven years ago.”

“Why did you say nothing?”

Belini gave a brittle laugh.

“Because I was twenty-two and my father controlled every account, every apartment, every attorney, and every person I thought I could trust.”

“You are thirty now.”

Her expression tightened.

“Yes.”

Luca stepped closer.

“And tonight?”

“I knew Emma’s name when she said Carter.”

“You knew before that.”

Silence.

“Belini.”

“My father told me a woman might appear using Judge Harper’s invitation. He told me to keep her away from you.”

“Why?”

“He did not explain.”

“Did you arrange the photographer?”

“No.”

“The credentials came through Bellini Holdings.”

Her face changed.

“Then my father used my company.”

Marco’s voice cut through Luca’s earpiece.

“Boss. We have the sedan.”

Luca turned.

“Where?”

“West Forty-Ninth service lane. Engine running. Driver unconscious but breathing.”

“And Emma?”

“Gone.”

Luca’s jaw locked.

Marco continued.

“There’s something else. Traffic camera caught a gray-haired man pulling her out of the rear seat before a black SUV reached them.”

“The photographer.”

“Yes.”

“Was she fighting him?”

Marco paused.

“No.”

That changed the room.

Belini stared.

Luca said, “Show me.”

The footage arrived.

Grainy.

Distant.

Clear enough.

The sedan stopped crooked beside the curb.

The gray-haired photographer ran from an alley, opened Emma’s door, and said something.

Emma looked at him.

Then at the approaching black SUV.

Then she went with him willingly.

Two men got out of the SUV seconds later.

Too late.

The photographer and Emma disappeared through a subway entrance.

Marco said, “They were not working together.”

“No.”

Luca enlarged the frame.

The photographer’s coat opened as he ran.

A silver badge flashed against the lining.

Not police.

Private investigator.

Older design.

Luca knew it.

His father’s security office had issued the same style years ago.

“Run his face against retired Moretti personnel.”

Marco answered within a minute.

“Thomas Reed. Former investigations chief. Left eleven years ago.”

“Why?”

“Officially? Retirement.”

“And unofficially?”

“Your father erased most of the file.”

Luca looked at Daniel Carter in the photograph.

Of course he had.

His phone rang again.

Unknown number.

This time Luca did not answer immediately.

Belini watched him.

“Same caller?”

“Yes.”

He accepted.

A man breathed once on the other end.

Then said, “If you want Emma alive, stop looking for Vittorio and start looking for the judge.”

Luca’s expression went still.

“Who is this?”

“You know my name now.”

Thomas Reed.

Luca looked at Marco.

Marco understood and began tracing.

“Where is Emma?” Luca asked.

“Safe for the next hour.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the only one you get until I know whether you are your father’s son or merely his heir.”

Luca’s voice cooled.

“You photographed her all night.”

“I photographed everyone photographing her.”

A pause.

Then Thomas added, “Your mistake was assuming I was the hunter.”

The line went dead.

Marco looked up from his phone.

“Trace failed.”

Luca stared toward the ballroom doors.

“Judge Harper.”

Belini frowned.

“What about her?”

“The invitation was not stolen.”

He looked at the photograph.

“It was bait.”

“For whom?”

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Luca folded the picture carefully.

“Tonight, apparently, everyone.”