Chapter 4 - The Ledger Behind the Silver
Renato Bellandi was gone.
That was the message Alessandro received thirteen minutes after ordering Marco to bring him in.
The security camera showed Bellandi leaving the mansion through the east garage at 1:06 a.m.
Six minutes before Alessandro gave the order.
His car was found abandoned two miles away beneath an elevated train platform.
Doors unlocked.
Phone on the passenger seat.
No fingerprints except his own.
“He knew,” Marco said.
Alessandro stood in a private conference room near the hospital’s executive offices.
“How?”
“We’re checking calls.”
“Check the mansion.”
“We are.”
“Everyone.”
Marco hesitated.
“Rosa?”
Alessandro looked at him.
“I said everyone.”
That hurt.
Rosa Bellini had been inside the Moretti household since Alessandro was three years old.
She had bandaged his knees.
Buried his mother.
Stood behind him at his father’s funeral.
But trust without verification had created this problem.
He would not make the same mistake twice.
Marco nodded.
“I’ll do it.”
The conference-room door opened.
Sophia stood there wearing hospital slippers and wrapped in a blanket.
Alessandro frowned.
“You should be in bed.”
“I need to tell you where the memory card is.”
“You can tell Marco.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because someone knew you were investigating before you sent men after Bellandi.”
Alessandro looked at her carefully.
“That doesn’t make Marco the leak.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That whoever it is hears things quickly.”
She entered and closed the door.
“And the fewer people who know, the better.”
Alessandro studied her.
“You’ve thought about this.”
“I’ve spent four years cleaning rooms while powerful men talked like I wasn’t there.”
The statement contained no pride.
Only truth.
“You learn things.”
“What things?”
Sophia looked at him.
“That people say the most dangerous things in front of someone holding a mop.”
Alessandro almost smiled.
“Where’s the card?”
She sat.
“In Emma’s rabbit.”
His expression changed.
“Buttons?”
“Yes.”
“The ear?”
She nodded.
“I opened the stitching, put it inside, sewed it back.”
Alessandro immediately called the officer still inside Sophia’s apartment.
“Check the stuffed rabbit.”
A pause.
“It was cut open, sir.”
Sophia closed her eyes.
“Is the card there?”
Another pause.
“No.”
The room went silent.
Sophia looked sick.
“He found it.”
“Maybe.”
“No. He knew exactly where to look.”
Alessandro considered the destroyed apartment.
Who knew Sophia had taken the card?
Maybe Bellandi had watched her.
Maybe someone else had.
Or maybe the memory card was not in the rabbit anymore.
A small voice came from the doorway.
“It isn’t there.”
Everyone turned.
Emma stood barefoot in the hallway.
Sophia’s eyes widened.
“Emma, you should be sleeping.”
The child hugged the blanket around herself.
“Buttons doesn’t have it.”
Sophia stared.
“What?”
Emma walked inside.
“The little black thing.”
Sophia became completely still.
“You know about it?”
“You put it in Buttons.”
“You saw me?”
Emma nodded.
“I took it out.”
Marco stared.
“When?”
“Last week.”
Sophia looked horrified.
“Why?”
“Because Buttons felt crunchy.”
Alessandro looked away for half a second.
Even Marco rubbed his mouth.
Sophia stared at her daughter.
“Where did you put it?”
“My treasure box.”
“What treasure box?”
Emma frowned.
“My green one.”
“Emma, your green box was in your bedroom.”
“No.”
Sophia blinked.
“I brought it.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why?”
Emma looked confused that this was difficult.
“Because treasures aren’t safe when nobody is home.”
Alessandro crouched.
“Where is the box now?”
“In Mom’s bag.”
Every adult turned.
Sophia’s handbag sat in the corner of her hospital room.
Marco moved first.
Three minutes later, they were back inside Room 814.
Emma emptied the bag.
A hairbrush.
Wallet.
Receipts.
Two pens.
A packet of tissues.
Lip balm.
Then a dented green metal box decorated with faded stars.
Emma opened it.
Inside were seven coins, a plastic bracelet, a photograph of Sophia holding a newborn Emma, a tiny seashell, a dog-shaped eraser, and a black microSD card.
Marco whispered, “Unbelievable.”
Emma looked at him.
“What?”
“You may have just saved several people’s lives.”
Sophia went pale.
“Don’t tell her that.”
Marco realized his mistake.
“I meant—”
Alessandro interrupted.
“You saved information.”
Emma looked at the card.
“What’s on it?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
“No.”
Sophia spoke sharply.
Everyone looked at her.
“I want a copy.”
Marco frowned.
“A copy?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“If that card disappears, I want another one somewhere none of you control.”
Marco started to object.
Alessandro stopped him.
“Done.”
Sophia stared.
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not offended?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d ask for the same thing.”
Within thirty minutes, three encrypted copies were made.
One remained with Alessandro.
One was placed in a secure evidence box.
Sophia chose where the third went.
She did not tell Alessandro.
He respected that.
Then Marco inserted the original card into an isolated laptop.
There were forty-three files.
Photographs.
Scanned documents.
Audio clips.
A spreadsheet.
Alessandro opened the first photograph.
Renato Bellandi stood outside a restaurant in Queens beside a man Alessandro recognized immediately.
Vittorio Santoro.
Older.
Heavier.
Alive.
Sophia whispered, “That’s him?”
“Yes.”
The next image showed them entering a warehouse.
Another showed Bellandi handing Santoro an envelope.
Then a photograph of Alessandro’s Manhattan office.
Another of Marco’s townhouse.
Judge Fallon’s courthouse entrance.
A police commissioner.
A union leader.
“What is this?” Sophia asked.
“A target list,” Marco said.
Alessandro opened a document.
Bank transfers.
Millions moved through companies connected to Moretti Holdings.
Some legitimate.
Others fake.
Blackstone Domestic Services appeared repeatedly.
So did Sable Urban Consulting.
Then one name appeared that made Marco lean closer.
Bellini Residential Maintenance.
Sophia looked at Alessandro.
“Bellini?”
Alessandro’s face changed.
Rosa Bellini.
Her late husband’s company had carried that name twenty years earlier.
Marco opened the incorporation record.
The company was new.
Eight months old.
Registered not to Rosa.
To Gabriel Bellini.
Rosa’s son.
Marco whispered, “Damn.”
Sophia looked between them.
“Who is Gabriel?”
Alessandro answered reluctantly.
“Rosa’s son.”
“Works for you?”
“He manages several construction properties.”
Emma, still awake, looked confused.
“Miss Rosa has a son?”
“Yes.”
“Is he nice?”
No one answered.
Emma frowned.
“That means no.”
Sophia pulled her closer.
Marco opened another file.
An audio recording.
Date stamped two weeks earlier.
Bellandi’s voice.
Another male voice.
Gabriel Bellini.
Marco pressed play.
Bellandi spoke first.
“Delgado saw something.”
Gabriel responded.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Then fire her.”
“Too obvious.”
“Make her quit.”
“How?”
A pause.
Then Bellandi laughed.
“She has a kid. Women with kids always quit when you squeeze the schedule hard enough.”
Sophia’s face went white.
Emma looked at her.
“Mom?”
Sophia reached for the laptop.
“Turn it off.”
Alessandro did.
Her breathing became uneven.
All those extra shifts.
The sudden schedule changes.
The Sunday mornings.
The warnings.
None had been random.
They had been trying to force her out.
“Why didn’t you quit?” Alessandro asked quietly.
Sophia laughed bitterly.
“Because rent doesn’t care whether your manager is trying to destroy you.”
Alessandro looked away.
Marco’s expression was murderous.
Sophia wiped her eyes.
“Keep going.”
“You don’t need to hear this.”
“Yes, I do.”
Alessandro met her gaze.
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
She straightened.
“But play it anyway.”
He did.
Gabriel’s voice returned.
“What about the card?”
“She took something. Camera caught her leaving the silver room.”
“Search her apartment.”
“Can’t yet. Moretti notices everything.”
Sophia looked toward Alessandro.
Marco almost laughed.
Apparently not everything.
The recording continued.
Gabriel said, “Then scare her.”
Bellandi answered, “Already did.”
A pause.
Then Gabriel said something that changed Alessandro’s face.
“My mother cannot find out.”
Rosa.
Sophia whispered, “He’s hiding it from her.”
Alessandro said nothing.
The recording continued.
“If Rosa finds out what we’re using the household accounts for, she goes straight to Alessandro.”
Bellandi laughed.
“She still thinks he’s twelve.”
“And he still listens to her.”
“Then keep her blind.”
The audio ended.
Marco exhaled.
“Rosa isn’t involved.”
Alessandro felt a complicated relief.
Then dread.
Because telling Rosa that her only son had betrayed the family would break something inside her.
They opened the spreadsheet.
There were names.
Dates.
Payment amounts.
And a column labeled ACCESS.
Many entries referred to properties controlled by Moretti businesses.
Warehouses.
Office towers.
Private residences.
Sophia pointed to one line.
“What does M-RES mean?”
Marco answered.
“Moretti residence.”
There were four entries.
Each had a date.
Each had a name.
The most recent was scheduled for tomorrow.
Contractor: Blackstone Domestic Services.
Assignment: Electrical maintenance.
Location: Main residence.
Access: Basement utility corridor.
Status: APPROVED – G. BELLINI.
Marco’s face changed.
“They’re sending someone into the mansion tomorrow.”
Alessandro looked at the time.
2:03 a.m.
Not tomorrow.
Today.
“What’s in the basement utility corridor?” Sophia asked.
Marco answered.
“Power controls. Security lines. Backup generators.”
Sophia understood.
“They want the cameras off.”
“Possibly.”
Alessandro scrolled farther.
Another column appeared.
DELIVERY.
Today’s scheduled entry contained a note.
PACKAGE BETA.
Sophia looked at Alessandro.
“What is Package Beta?”
He did not know.
That frightened everyone more.
Marco stood.
“We shut down the house.”
“No.”
“Boss.”
“We know when they’re coming.”
“And?”
“We let them come.”
Sophia stared.
“You’re going to allow strangers connected to Santoro into your home?”
“Under controlled conditions.”
“That sounds insane.”
“It often does,” Marco said.
Alessandro ignored him.
“Bellandi ran because he knew we were close.”
“Which means Gabriel probably knows too,” Marco said.
“Yes.”
“And if Gabriel cancels the contractor?”
“Then we know he’s watching us.”
Sophia shook her head.
“I don’t like this.”
“You don’t need to be there.”
“I wasn’t talking about me.”
She looked toward Emma.
“I’m talking about you.”
Alessandro stared.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Very few people worried about him aloud.
Most assumed a man like Alessandro Moretti required no protection.
Sophia had apparently forgotten that rule.
“I’ll be careful.”
She gave him the same skeptical expression Emma used.
“That sounded like a lie.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It sounded like one.”
Marco turned away to hide another smile.
Alessandro looked at the sleeping child.
Then at Sophia.
“Tomorrow morning, you and Emma are being moved.”
“To where?”
“A secure apartment.”
“No.”
“Sophia.”
“No strangers. No secret location.”
“You agreed that I’d explain.”
“Explain, then.”
He did.
“My mother owned an apartment overlooking the river. It isn’t connected publicly to the Moretti name. Rosa is the only household employee who knows about it.”
Sophia hesitated.
“You trust Rosa?”
“With everything.”
“But not her son.”
Alessandro’s face tightened.
“No.”
Sophia looked at the laptop.
“How are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know.”
That admission softened her.
Then Marco’s phone buzzed.
He read the message.
“Boss.”
“What now?”
“Bellandi’s abandoned car.”
“What about it?”
“Forensics found blood in the trunk.”
Sophia’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Whose?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Marco read another message.
“And one fingerprint that doesn’t belong to Bellandi.”
“Who?”
Marco looked directly at Alessandro.
“Gabriel Bellini.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Alessandro looked toward the dark Manhattan skyline.
Renato Bellandi was missing.
Gabriel Bellini was tied to the money.
Santoro was alive.
An unknown package was scheduled to enter Alessandro’s mansion before noon.
And the only reason they knew any of it was because a cleaning woman had stolen a memory card and a six-year-old had decided a stuffed rabbit felt too crunchy.
Alessandro looked at Emma sleeping beside her mother.
Then he said quietly, “Nobody underestimates that child again.”
But across town, in a warehouse beside the East River, Renato Bellandi was very much alive.
He sat tied to a metal chair.
Blood ran from a cut above his eyebrow.
A man with white hair stepped from the shadows.
Vittorio Santoro smiled.
“You should have found the card before Moretti did.”
Bellandi lifted his head.
“I can fix it.”
Santoro’s smile disappeared.
“No.”
He placed a photograph of Emma Delgado on the table.
“You already failed.”
Then he placed another beside it.
May you like
A photograph of Alessandro.
“Now we use the girl to make Moretti fail too.”
