Chapter 3 - The Guest Who Tried to Leave First

Nobody moved for almost ten seconds.

Then one man did.

Mr. Carlo Ferri.

Sixty-two.

Gray suit.

Gold watch.

He had hugged Adrian when he arrived.

Called him family.

Now he was walking toward the side corridor.

Too quickly.

I stepped in front of him.

“Restroom is the other direction.”

He smiled.

“I’m going home.”

“Mr. Vale asked everyone to stay.”

“Vescari.”

I blinked.

He smiled wider.

“Your employer’s name is Vescari, Mara. If you’re going to guard his doors, at least remember who you work for.”

He was trying to embarrass me.

It almost worked.

Then Graham’s folder came to mind.

I stayed where I was.

“Mr. Vescari asked everyone to stay.”

Carlo’s smile disappeared.

Behind me, Serafina said, “Let him go.”

I turned.

She stood near the engagement table.

No ring.

No champagne.

Just that dark red dress and a face that looked exhausted.

“Why?” I asked.

Carlo looked at her.

That was enough.

I understood.

“You know him.”

Serafina laughed once.

“Everyone here knows him.”

“No. You know why he wants to leave.”

Carlo stepped closer.

“You should be careful.”

Before I could answer, Dominic did.

“She already was.”

He had not gone with Adrian.

Not yet.

Adrian had called two men from his security team and told them to prepare the car.

Dominic stayed because of the folder.

He walked toward Carlo slowly.

“Victor used to call you after midnight.”

Carlo’s face tightened.

“You’re confused.”

Dominic smiled.

“I’m old.”

Serafina closed her eyes.

“Please stop saying that.”

Dominic ignored her.

“Carlo Ferri handled freight for Bellandi Imports twelve years ago.”

Carlo looked toward the doors.

Two security men were there now.

He stopped.

Dominic continued.

“Warehouse 214 was listed as appliance storage.”

Carlo said nothing.

“What was really inside?” I asked.

He looked at me as if I were furniture that had spoken.

“Nothing that concerns a maid.”

That was when Graham Whitmore appeared beside the ballroom entrance.

I hadn’t even seen him leave.

He carried the brown folder.

And another sheet of paper.

“Actually,” Graham said, “it concerns everyone.”

Carlo went pale.

Graham held up the page.

“Your signature.”

“No.”

“Three transfers.”

Carlo’s jaw tightened.

“Copies mean nothing.”

“True.”

Graham looked at Serafina.

“That’s why we need the originals.”

She stared at him.

Then toward Adrian’s study.

Graham noticed.

“So that’s where Victor put them.”

Serafina didn’t answer.

Carlo did.

“You don’t know anything.”

Dominic turned.

“I know Victor kept duplicate ledgers.”

Silence.

Carlo’s hand moved toward his jacket.

One of Adrian’s guards immediately stepped forward.

Carlo froze.

“Phone,” the guard said.

Carlo glared.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Phone.”

He handed it over.

The screen lit.

One outgoing call.

Thirty seconds earlier.

No name.

Just a number.

Serafina saw it.

Her face changed.

Dominic noticed.

“Whose number?”

She didn’t answer.

“Serafina.”

She looked at him.

“My brother’s.”

That surprised me.

Adrian had never mentioned a Bellandi son.

I looked at her.

“You have a brother?”

“Half brother.”

“Where is he?”

She looked toward the black flash drive Adrian had taken.

Then at Carlo.

“Probably already on his way to storage 214.”

Dominic swore under his breath.

Graham closed the folder.

“Then Adrian cannot go there.”

“He’s going to Enzo,” I said.

Dominic looked toward the driveway.

“Not if someone tells him about this first.”

He started walking.

Serafina caught his sleeve.

“Dominic.”

He turned.

“If Luca gets that ledger, he’ll burn it.”

“Why?”

“Because my father left him the business.”

“And you?”

She smiled without humor.

“He left me the guilt.”

For the first time all night, I believed her without hesitation.

Not because she looked innocent.

She didn’t.

Because she looked tired of carrying something she hated.

Graham looked at Carlo.

“Was Luca involved twelve years ago?”

Carlo stared at the floor.

“Answer him,” Serafina said.

He looked at her.

“You really think they’ll forgive you?”

“I’m not asking them to.”

“That’s new.”

Her face hardened.

“Answer.”

Carlo sighed.

“No.”

Dominic frowned.

“No?”

“Luca was seventeen.”

“So who kept paying people after Victor died?”

Carlo said nothing.

Serafina whispered, “Luca.”

I looked at her.

“You knew?”

“I suspected.”

“And you still came here tonight?”

Her eyes filled again.

“I was trying to get Adrian out before Luca realized Enzo had contacted him.”

That changed everything.

Not enough to make her innocent.

But enough to make the story uglier.

Dominic’s phone rang.

He looked at the screen.

Adrian.

He answered immediately.

“Yes?”

We all watched him.

His expression changed.

“What do you mean?”

A pause.

Then:

“Don’t move.”

Dominic hung up.

“What happened?” Graham asked.

He looked at Serafina.

Then at me.

“The address is empty.”

Serafina went white.

“No.”

“Enzo’s gone.”

Her hand reached for the back of a chair.

“When?”

Dominic shook his head.

“Adrian found the apartment open.”

Graham’s face tightened.

“And Enzo?”

“No sign of him.”

Serafina whispered one name.

“Luca.”

Then the ballroom doors opened again.

Adrian walked in.

He had not made it three hours north.

He had made it twenty minutes.

His tuxedo jacket was gone.

His shirt sleeves were rolled.

And in his hand was something I recognized.

The brass key.

Storage 214.

He looked at Carlo.

Then Serafina.

Then Dominic.

“My father left one thing behind.”

He placed an old phone on the table.

The screen was cracked.

“There was a voicemail.”

Serafina’s breathing stopped.

Adrian pressed play.

Enzo Vescari’s voice filled the ballroom.

Weak.

Urgent.

“Adrian, if Dominic brought you the key, don’t come looking for me.”

A pause.

Then the sentence that changed our destination.

“Go to 214 first.”

The message ended.

Adrian looked at us.

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“My father knew they were coming.”

And this time, no one tried to stop him from leaving.