Chapter 6 - The Company Hidden Inside Rosalie’s Name

Rosalie did not cry this time.

That scared her father more.

She stared at Thomas.

“Nineteen years.”

“Yes.”

“VQ Holdings.”

“Yes.”

“You let me believe you were afraid of Victor.”

“I was.”

“You were his partner.”

“Not the way you think.”

She laughed.

It sounded empty.

“That sentence again.”

Thomas opened his mouth.

She raised one hand.

“No.”

Then she looked at Alessandro.

“I want the truth too.”

Alessandro said nothing.

She continued.

“If my father is part of this, I want everything.”

Thomas looked at his daughter.

“VQ was created to hold assets Victor could not put in his own name.”

Rosalie stared.

“You signed for him.”

“Yes.”

“You forged Matteo’s name.”

“Yes.”

“You helped hide stolen money.”

“Yes.”

“And you kept doing business with him after my mother died.”

Thomas lowered his eyes.

“Yes.”

Rosalie stepped closer.

“Why?”

“Because he owned me.”

“No.”

Her voice broke.

“He paid you.”

Thomas looked at her.

“At first.”

“And later?”

“Later I collected evidence.”

Alessandro frowned.

“What evidence?”

Thomas reached inside his coat.

Nothing.

His face changed.

He checked again.

Then his other pocket.

“What?”

“The drive.”

Rosalie stared.

“What drive?”

“A flash drive.”

“Where is it?”

“It was in my inside pocket.”

Henry looked toward the clinic door.

“The man at the station.”

Thomas shook his head.

“I had it after the station.”

Everyone went quiet.

Then I remembered.

At the clinic entrance, Victor’s driver had not been the only person near us.

A waiter from the masquerade ball had passed on the sidewalk.

Black coat.

White gloves.

I had noticed because one glove was stained with red wine.

I said:

“There was someone outside.”

Alessandro turned to me.

“Who?”

“A waiter.”

Rosalie frowned.

“From the gala?”

“Yes.”

Thomas whispered:

“Victor uses event staff.”

Alessandro looked at the doctor.

“Back exit?”

“Kitchen stairwell.”

We went down.

The alley was empty.

On the ground lay a white glove.

Red wine stain.

Rosalie picked it up.

A small paper was folded inside.

One line.

MIDNIGHT. EAST CONSERVATORY. COME ALONE.

Alessandro read it.

“Victor.”

Thomas shook his head.

“He wants the case.”

“No.”

Isabella looked at her son.

“He wants you.”

Alessandro checked the time.

11:18.

Forty-two minutes.

Rosalie said:

“We should call the police.”

Thomas looked at her.

“With what?”

She pointed at the patient cards.

“The kidnapping.”

“Nineteen years old.”

“The forged records.”

“Most are copies.”

“The bank transfers.”

“Complex enough for Victor’s lawyers to delay for years.”

Alessandro looked at Thomas.

“What was on the drive?”

Thomas answered:

“Audio.”

“Of Victor?”

“Yes.”

“How recent?”

“Last month.”

“What does he say?”

Thomas swallowed.

“He says the old woman should have stayed dead.”

Isabella went still.

Alessandro’s face changed.

“And?”

“He says if she reaches you, he will solve the problem the same way he solved Matteo.”

Silence.

Alessandro stared at him.

“My father died five years ago.”

Thomas nodded.

“Officially.”

Rosalie whispered:

“Heart attack.”

Thomas looked at her.

“That is what Victor told everyone.”

Isabella stepped forward.

“What are you saying?”

Thomas’s eyes filled.

“I think Matteo was killed.”

Alessandro did not move.

Thomas continued.

“Five years ago, your father contacted me.”

“What?”

“He said he was ready to testify.”

Alessandro’s voice turned cold.

“Against Victor.”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“He died three days later.”

“Why didn’t you say this before?”

“I had no proof.”

“And now?”

“The drive.”

“Which you lost.”

“Yes.”

Alessandro turned away.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Rosalie removed an earring.

She twisted the back.

A tiny black memory card fell into her palm.

Thomas stared.

“What is that?”

She looked at him.

“Insurance.”

Alessandro turned.

Rosalie continued.

“When I met Isabella two months ago, I knew someone followed me.”

Isabella frowned.

“You never told me.”

“I did not know who.”

She looked at Alessandro.

“So I started recording my father.”

Thomas went pale.

“Rosalie.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No.”

She held up the card.

“One week ago, Dad met Victor in our library.”

Thomas stared.

“You recorded that?”

“Yes.”

Alessandro took the card.

“What did they say?”

Rosalie answered:

“Victor asked whether Henry still had the original negatives.”

Henry’s face changed.

“And?”

“My father said no.”

Thomas whispered:

“I lied to him.”

Rosalie nodded.

“Then Victor said something else.”

Alessandro waited.

She looked directly at him.

“He said, ‘If the photographs survive, Matteo’s grave won’t.’”

Silence.

Isabella covered her mouth.

Henry whispered:

“What does that mean?”

Thomas knew.

I could see it.

Alessandro saw it too.

“Tell me.”

Thomas closed his eyes.

“Your father hid something in the family mausoleum.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

Alessandro checked the time again.

11:24.

Then he looked at the note.

Midnight.

East conservatory.

He tore it in half.

“We’re not going to the conservatory.”

Rosalie frowned.

“Where are we going?”

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Alessandro looked at Thomas.

“To my father’s grave.”