Chapter 3 - Isabella’s Second Secret

We returned before sunrise.

The engagement ball was over.

Flowers remained.

Glasses remained.

Music had stopped.

The estate looked like a celebration after everyone had discovered it was a funeral.

Isabella sat alone in the ballroom.

Still wearing the dark red gown.

Luca walked toward her.

She looked up.

“You found them.”

He stopped.

“My mother is alive.”

Tears filled her eyes.

“I know.”

“You knew that too.”

“Yes.”

“My mother says you visited.”

“Yes.”

“And after you visited, she was poisoned.”

Isabella stood so quickly the chair fell backward.

“I did not poison her.”

Luca didn’t move.

“Did you ask about a ledger?”

Her face changed.

“Yes.”

Gregory stepped forward.

“Why?”

“Because my father’s name is in it.”

Luca frowned.

“You said your father helped my parents.”

“He did.”

“Then why would he be in a criminal ledger?”

Isabella looked at Luca.

“Because before he helped them, he worked for Vittorio.”

Silence.

Luca stared.

“My father was a detective,” Isabella said.

“He was also corrupt.”

She swallowed.

“He took money.”

“For how long?”

“Years.”

“Did you know before we got engaged?”

“No.”

“When did you know?”

“Eight months ago.”

“The same time you learned my father was alive.”

“Yes.”

Luca laughed quietly.

“Every answer leads to another lie.”

“I was trying to fix it.”

“By burning the tape?”

“By stopping a scandal before I knew what the truth was.”

Luca stepped closer.

“You knew enough to tell Amelia to put evidence in a fire.”

Isabella looked at me.

Then back at him.

“I panicked.”

Gregory asked:

“Where is the tape?”

“I don’t know.”

Luca stared.

“Someone took it from the library.”

Her eyes widened.

“When?”

“After we left.”

“I never went back.”

Security chief Marcus Hale entered.

Thirty-nine.

Former military.

Luca had hired him after Gregory disappeared.

Marcus placed a tablet on the table.

“We pulled internal cameras.”

Luca looked at the screen.

“Show me.”

The hallway outside the library appeared.

3:01 a.m.

A woman in a catering uniform walked past.

Face hidden.

3:04.

She returned carrying something under her jacket.

Marcus froze the frame.

A silver staff badge.

I leaned closer.

“That isn’t ours.”

Marcus nodded.

“It’s a duplicate.”

Luca looked at me.

“How can you tell?”

“The ribbon.”

I pointed.

“Ours are black satin.”

“This one is navy.”

Marcus enlarged the image.

The woman’s wrist appeared.

A mark.

Small.

Dark.

Gregory stepped closer.

“That tattoo.”

Luca looked at him.

“You know it?”

Gregory nodded.

“A crown with three points.”

Isabella went pale.

Luca noticed.

“You know it too.”

She didn’t answer.

“Isabella.”

She whispered:

“My father had the same tattoo.”

Silence.

Gregory’s expression changed.

“No.”

Luca looked between them.

“What does it mean?”

Gregory sat down.

“Twenty-five years ago, Vittorio had a private group.”

“What kind of group?”

“People who protected the family’s operations.”

“Police?”

“Some.”

“Politicians?”

“Some.”

“Killers?”

Gregory looked at Luca.

“Yes.”

He pointed at the frozen image.

“They called themselves the Crown.”

Isabella closed her eyes.

“My father was one of them.”

Luca’s voice hardened.

“And you never thought that mattered?”

“I didn’t know the Crown still existed.”

Marcus spoke.

“We traced the catering company.”

Everyone looked at him.

“There was no woman assigned to that corridor.”

Luca asked:

“Any vehicle?”

“A gray sedan left the service road at 3:09.”

“Plate?”

“Stolen.”

Gregory looked at Isabella.

“Your father told me the Crown was dissolved.”

“He told me that too.”

“Before he died?”

“Yes.”

“How did he die?”

Isabella looked at Luca.

“Car crash.”

Gregory stared at her.

“No.”

Her face changed.

“What?”

“Your father didn’t die in a car crash.”

Isabella froze.

“You were at the funeral.”

“I was.”

“You saw the coffin.”

“It was closed.”

She stepped toward him.

“What are you saying?”

Gregory reached into his coat.

A folded newspaper clipping.

He placed it down.

The article was about a federal witness relocated under seal.

No name.

No photograph.

Only a date.

Five years earlier.

The same week Isabella’s father supposedly died.

Isabella stared.

“Where did you get this?”

“From the detective who arranged Sofia’s original disappearance.”

Luca looked at him.

“Isabella’s father?”

Gregory shook his head.

“His partner.”

Isabella whispered:

“My father is alive?”

Gregory’s answer was quiet.

“I think he was.”

“Was?”

“Until six months ago.”

Luca’s eyes narrowed.

“The same time you disappeared.”

Gregory nodded.

“I received a message.”

“From whom?”

“Isabella’s father.”

She gripped the table.

“What message?”

Gregory looked at her.

“Three words.”

He paused.

“Vittorio found me.”

Isabella stopped breathing for a second.

“Where?”

“He told me to meet him in Montreal.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He never arrived.”

“Why did you disappear?”

“Because someone did.”

Gregory removed a photograph from his coat.

A hotel hallway.

A man entering a room.

Older.

Gray-haired.

The side of his face visible.

Isabella stared.

“Dad.”

Her knees almost gave way.

Luca caught the chair behind her.

Gregory continued.

“This was six months ago.”

“Who took it?”

“I did.”

“What happened after?”

“I waited two hours.”

“And?”

“Then I saw Vittorio enter the same room.”

Luca went still.

“My uncle?”

“Yes.”

“Did he come out?”

“Yes.”

“Did her father?”

Gregory shook his head.

“No.”

Isabella covered her mouth.

Luca asked:

“Did you call police?”

“I called a federal contact.”

“And?”

“The room was empty.”

“No body?”

“No.”

“No blood?”

“No.”

“Nothing?”

Gregory looked at Isabella.

“One thing.”

He placed a brass key on the table.

Number 314.

Isabella stared.

“What is that?”

“A station locker key.”

“Which station?”

“Montreal Central.”

Luca picked it up.

“Did you open it?”

Gregory shook his head.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because the locker wasn’t in Montreal.”

Luca frowned.

Gregory turned the key over.

Tiny engraved letters.

BELLINI TERMINAL.

Luca stared.

His family owned an abandoned private rail terminal outside Albany.

Closed for nineteen years.

Gregory spoke quietly.

“Your father once used that terminal to move people without records.”

Luca looked at Isabella.

Then at the key.

Marcus’s phone buzzed.

He read the message.

His face changed.

“Sir.”

“What?”

“The gray sedan was found.”

“Where?”

“Near the old Bellini terminal.”

Luca grabbed his coat.

Isabella stepped forward.

“I’m coming.”

“No.”

“My father may have left something there.”

Luca looked at her for a long moment.

Then:

“You already chose silence once.”

She nodded.

“I know.”

“So why should I trust you now?”

Isabella wiped her tears.

“Don’t.”

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She looked at the brass key.

“Just don’t leave me behind when the truth is finally about my family too.”