Chapter 2 - The Man in Damian’s Office

Nobody applauded when Carlo Rossi came down the stairs.

Nobody even breathed normally.

He was sixty-two.

Silver at the temples.

Perfect black suit.

No tie.

He looked less like a man who had been caught inside someone else’s office and more like a man arriving late to his own dinner.

Damian stood at the bottom of the staircase.

The photograph of Evelyn remained in his hand.

“Come down,” he said.

Carlo looked at Bianca.

She shook her head once.

It was small.

Damian saw it.

“So you two do have a language.”

Bianca’s face tightened.

“Damian—”

“Not yet.”

Carlo descended.

Mr. Harrow leaned on his cane beside me.

The ballroom had gone silent enough that I could hear the fountain.

When Carlo reached the floor, Damian held up the photograph.

“Six months ago.”

Carlo glanced at it.

“Yes.”

Bianca whispered:

“Dad.”

He ignored her.

Damian’s voice stayed calm.

“Why were you meeting my mother?”

Carlo looked around.

“This should be private.”

“You used my office in my home.”

Damian folded the photograph.

“You lost the privilege.”

Carlo exhaled.

“Your mother contacted me.”

“Why?”

“Because she wanted something returned.”

Mr. Harrow’s eyes narrowed.

“What?”

Carlo looked at him.

“You already know.”

“I know what Evelyn feared.”

The old lawyer tapped his cane once against the marble.

“I’m asking what you took.”

Carlo’s jaw shifted.

Damian noticed.

“So you did take something.”

Bianca stepped between them.

“My father did business with your family for decades. This is becoming theatrical.”

I looked at her.

So did Damian.

“Tonight was theatrical,” he said.

He gestured toward the flowers.

The quartet.

The gold candles.

The untouched birthday cake.

“This is accounting.”

Carlo laughed once.

No humor.

“Then ask your uncle.”

Damian stopped moving.

“My uncle showed me the will.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Carlo looked toward the ceiling cameras.

“He also showed you a great many things that weren’t true.”

Mr. Harrow opened his document case again.

He removed Bianca’s sealed envelope.

“Carlo, did you tell your daughter what this contains?”

Bianca turned.

“What?”

Her father’s expression changed.

That was the first moment I saw fear.

“Arthur.”

Mr. Harrow held the envelope away from him.

“Did you?”

“No.”

Bianca stared at her father.

“What is it?”

Carlo said nothing.

Damian looked at Mr. Harrow.

“Open it.”

“It is addressed to Bianca.”

He handed it to her.

She didn’t take it.

“Why would Evelyn write to me?”

“She didn’t.”

Mr. Harrow looked at Carlo.

“Your father did.”

Bianca’s eyes snapped back to him.

Carlo reached for the envelope.

Damian caught his wrist.

Not violently.

Just once.

Firm.

“Don’t.”

Carlo looked down at Damian’s hand.

Then at the black geometric tattoo visible beneath his cuff.

“You have your father’s temper.”

Damian released him.

“And apparently my mother’s paperwork.”

Bianca finally took the envelope.

Her fingers trembled when she broke the seal.

Inside was one sheet.

She read the first line.

Then sat down.

I had never seen her sit without checking the chair first.

“What does it say?” Damian asked.

She didn’t answer.

Carlo closed his eyes.

Mr. Harrow answered for her.

“Six months ago, Carlo signed a sworn statement.”

Bianca looked up at her father.

“You told me you were in Milan.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

Carlo stared at Damian.

“From the reason Evelyn Crowe vanished.”

Damian’s hand closed around the photograph.

Carlo continued.

“Nineteen years ago, your mother discovered transfers moving through Crowe Maritime, Crowe Property Holdings, and three private trusts.”

Damian said:

“Transfers to whom?”

Carlo looked at Bianca.

Then away.

“Shell companies.”

“Controlled by whom?”

Carlo’s silence answered before his mouth did.

Damian stepped closer.

“My uncle?”

Carlo swallowed.

“Partly.”

Mr. Harrow’s eyes sharpened.

“Partly?”

Carlo looked at him.

“You think Vincent Crowe did it alone?”

That was the first time anyone said the name.

Vincent Crowe.

Damian’s father’s younger brother.

The man who raised Damian after Evelyn disappeared.

The man who showed him her will.

Damian’s face went still.

“Who else?”

Carlo looked toward the ballroom doors.

“I want a lawyer.”

Mr. Harrow almost smiled.

“You have one standing six feet away.”

“I want one who doesn’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Mr. Harrow’s voice softened.

“I’m disappointed you survived this long without becoming honest.”

Bianca stood abruptly.

“Stop.”

She held up the letter.

“This says my father believed Evelyn was being watched.”

Carlo’s face changed.

“Bianca.”

“It says he helped move her from a hotel six months ago.”

Damian looked at him.

“You moved my mother?”

“She asked me to.”

“Where?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Damian’s voice dropped.

“Try.”

Carlo looked straight at him.

“Because I don’t know where she is now.”

Mr. Harrow nodded slowly.

“That part is true.”

Damian turned.

“You know?”

“I know how to reach her.”

“Then do it.”

“Not here.”

“Now.”

Mr. Harrow hesitated.

I noticed his hand.

It had tightened around the handle of his cane.

Not from age.

From worry.

“Damian, the photograph was not the only thing mailed to me.”

He opened the inside pocket of his coat.

He removed a small key.

Old brass.

No label.

Carlo stepped backward.

That frightened me more than anything.

Damian saw it too.

“What does it open?”

Mr. Harrow looked at Carlo.

“Something your mother hid before she disappeared.”

Carlo whispered:

“Arthur, don’t.”

Mr. Harrow handed the key to Damian.

“A deposit box.”

“Where?”

“The bank your mother used privately.”

Damian stared at the key.

Mr. Harrow continued.

“She told me that if anyone tried to make you sign a beneficiary amendment before you met her, I was to give you this.”

Bianca’s eyes went to the unsigned documents on the table.

So did mine.

Damian looked at Carlo.

“What’s in the box?”

Carlo said nothing.

Mr. Harrow answered.

“The original ledger.”

Carlo went pale.

Damian looked at the old key in his palm.

Then at the man who had helped raise him.

Then at Bianca.

“Security.”

Four men moved toward the doors.

Damian pointed upstairs.

“No one leaves the private floor.”

Then he looked at me.

“Elena.”

I straightened.

“Yes?”

“You opened the door for Arthur.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He handed me the photograph of his mother.

“Stay with him.”

Bianca stared.

“Why her?”

Damian looked at me.

“Because tonight she is the only person in this room who ignored you for the right reason.”

He turned toward the elevator.

Mr. Harrow called after him.

“Damian.”

He stopped.

The old lawyer’s expression had changed.

“One more thing.”

Damian waited.

“The deposit box was opened yesterday.”

Carlo’s face emptied.

Damian looked down at the brass key.

“By whom?”

Mr. Harrow looked directly at Bianca.

“Someone using your mother’s old authorization code.”

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And Bianca whispered:

“I know who has it.”