Chapter 8 - The Man Victor Pretended Was Dead

Marco Bellandi looked nothing like Victor’s photographs.

He looked kinder.

That was the problem.

Soft gray hair.

Calm eyes.

Expensive coat.

A grandfather at church.

Except for the gun.

Adrian stepped in front of me.

Marco smiled.

“There he is.”

“Put it down.”

“No.”

“Then you’re not leaving.”

Marco glanced toward the dark hallway.

Two of Adrian’s guards were outside.

Locked behind electronically controlled doors.

The jammer had killed our phones.

The mansion had become very large and very useless.

Marco looked at me.

“You caused an extraordinary amount of trouble for a housemaid.”

I said nothing.

He smiled.

“Good. Fear without chatter is rare.”

Adrian’s voice stayed low.

“What do you want?”

“The card.”

“No.”

“The watch copy.”

“No.”

Marco sighed.

“Your father always had the same disappointing instinct.”

“What instinct?”

“To believe evidence matters more than leverage.”

He lifted the gun slightly.

I stopped breathing.

Adrian did not move.

“You shoot her,” he said, “you get nothing.”

Marco looked amused.

“You think I came for money?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

That surprised Adrian.

Marco continued.

“I came for the list.”

“What list?”

“The names Victor kept outside the ledgers.”

Adrian’s face changed.

Marco noticed.

“You haven’t found it.”

“No.”

“Excellent.”

He looked genuinely relieved.

“What names?” I asked.

Marco’s eyes moved to me.

“People who bought protection. Judges. Accountants. Officials. Men who still prefer their grandchildren not learn how family fortunes began.”

Adrian stared.

“And you think my father has it.”

“I know he does.”

“Then why come here?”

Marco smiled again.

“Because Enzo will trade it for his son.”

Adrian understood.

“You needed me alive.”

“Yes.”

“And Mara?”

Marco looked at me.

“Useful pressure.”

The lights came back.

Just for a second.

Then off.

But that second was enough.

Dominic was behind Marco.

The old driver swung a heavy serving tray into his wrist.

The gun fired.

The sound was deafening.

The bullet hit the ceiling.

Adrian moved.

So did I.

I dropped behind the island.

Dominic hit Marco again.

Adrian took the gun.

Three seconds.

Maybe four.

Then Marco was on the floor.

Breathing hard.

Adrian stood over him.

Gun pointed down.

Marco laughed.

“Now you look like your father.”

Adrian’s finger tightened.

Dominic said his name.

Just once.

“Adrian.”

He looked at the old man.

Then lowered the gun.

Sirens sounded outside.

Someone had restored communications.

Security rushed in.

Marco did not resist when they took him.

He only looked at Adrian.

“You’re already too late.”

Adrian grabbed his coat.

“For what?”

Marco smiled.

“The bank.”

My stomach dropped.

We drove there with police behind us.

The old Bellandi bank sat downtown between two newer buildings.

Stone columns.

Boarded windows.

Private entrance in back.

The front doors were open.

Inside, one chair had been overturned.

A recorder lay on the floor.

Serafina’s.

No Enzo.

No Serafina.

Adrian picked it up.

Pressed play.

At first, static.

Then Serafina’s voice.

“My authorization is useless without Enzo.”

Another man answered.

Luca.

“You keep assuming this is about authorization.”

Enzo spoke.

“Then why bring us here?”

Luca laughed.

“Because Uncle Marco wanted Adrian away from the mansion.”

Adrian closed his eyes.

The recording continued.

Serafina said, “You used me.”

“You were always easy to use.”

Then a sound.

A chair scraping.

Enzo’s voice.

“Leave her out of this.”

Luca answered.

“No.”

Then:

“You’re going to tell me where the fifth copy is.”

Adrian stopped the recording.

“Fifth?”

Dominic stared.

“Victor made four.”

I looked at Enzo’s earlier words.

Victor made four.

But Enzo had never said he did.

Graham arrived ten minutes later.

He listened.

Then looked at Adrian.

“Your father made another.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

Adrian paced once.

Then stopped.

“What did he trust most?”

Dominic answered immediately.

“Lucia.”

His mother.

The lake house.

We looked at each other.

Adrian called the officers.

“Send a team back there.”

Graham shook his head.

“If Luca knows about Lucia’s house—”

“He didn’t,” I said.

Everyone looked at me.

“Serafina said Victor never knew it existed.”

Dominic nodded.

“Then Luca probably doesn’t either.”

Adrian stared at me.

“Unless Serafina told him.”

Silence.

He hated saying it.

I could see that.

But it was possible.

We drove north again.

The lake house was empty.

At first.

Then I noticed the portrait.

Lucia above the fireplace.

The frame was crooked.

It had not been crooked before.

Adrian saw me looking.

He removed it.

Behind the frame was a small wall safe.

No keypad.

Just a mechanical dial.

Adrian stared.

“I don’t know the combination.”

Dominic smiled sadly.

“I do.”

Adrian looked at him.

“Your mother’s birthday.”

The safe opened.

Inside was a single envelope.

No money.

No drive.

Just a photograph.

Lucia.

Enzo.

Adrian as a child.

On the back, one handwritten sentence.

Adrian read it aloud.

“Family is not who knows your blood. It is who refuses to sell your name.”

He frowned.

“That’s it?”

I looked at the photograph again.

Then the frame.

Then the backing.

“Maybe not.”

I pulled the cardboard tab loose.

Something tiny fell into my palm.

A second memory card.

The fifth copy.

Adrian stared at it.

Then his phone rang.

Signal restored.

Unknown number.

He answered.

Luca’s voice.

“You found it.”

Adrian looked at us.

“How do you know?”

Luca laughed.

“Because Serafina finally told me where the house was.”

Adrian’s face emptied.

Then another voice came through the phone.

Serafina.

Crying.

“Adrian, don’t believe him.”

A sound.

Then silence.

Luca returned.

“Bring the card.”

“Where?”

“Back where this started.”

Adrian looked at Dominic.

The old driver already knew.

The Bellandi warehouse.

Storage 214.

Luca continued.

“One hour.”

Then he added:

“And if you bring police, your father won’t survive long enough to explain which woman betrayed you this time.”

The call ended.

Adrian looked at the memory card in my hand.

Then at me.

For the first time since the ballroom, he looked uncertain.

Not afraid of Luca.

Afraid of choosing wrong.

I handed him the card.

“Then stop guessing.”

He stared.

“What?”

“Make him prove who he has.”

Dominic understood.

“A live call.”

I nodded.

“If Enzo and Serafina are together, Luca can prove it.”

Adrian looked at the phone.

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Then at the card.

And this time, instead of running toward the threat, he started thinking.