Chapter 4 - THE PHONE UNDER THE CHAIR
Dean Foster was placed in a reinforced storage room beneath the mansion.
Not the basement cell used in Rinaldi family legends.
Massimo had ordered that room sealed years earlier.
He had no interest in continuing every tradition his grandfather considered necessary.
Instead, Dean was locked inside an old security office with two guards stationed outside.
No windows.
No weapons.
No phone.
And, for the first time in twelve years, no control.
Camille remained under watch in the west guest suite.
Dr. Hale was kept separately.
Nobody was allowed to leave the estate.
Massimo wanted answers before rumors spread.
But the most important discovery was sitting on his desk.
Dean’s third phone.
The one Nina had found beneath a leather chair.
Marco stared at it.
“Locked.”
Massimo looked toward Nina.
She sat on the sofa eating apple slices.
“Where did you find it?”
“Under his chair.”
“Today?”
She nodded.
“Did you see him drop it?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know it was there?”
Nina shrugged.
“It buzzed.”
Of course.
Adults had been arguing loudly enough to ignore a vibration beneath furniture.
Nina had not.
Massimo looked at Marco.
“Get someone to open it.”
“Dean’s people handle most of our digital security.”
“Not anymore.”
“I know a guy in Manhattan.”
“Someone outside.”
Marco nodded.
“No family connections.”
“Good.”
Carla entered.
Her face immediately tightened when she saw Nina.
“I thought I told you not to leave the room.”
Nina stared at her apple.
“I wanted Uncle Massimo.”
“You could have been hurt.”
“I’m sorry.”
Carla knelt.
Her anger lasted about three seconds.
Then she hugged her daughter.
Massimo watched them.
Something uncomfortable moved inside him.
Guilt.
Nina should never have been anywhere near this.
Carla should not have been forced into his problems.
He had spent his adult life telling himself the danger surrounding him could be contained through money, walls, guards, rules.
Yet a three-year-old child had nearly been caught in the consequences of his world.
“Carla.”
She looked up.
“I want you and Nina out of the house.”
Fear flashed across her face.
Massimo immediately clarified.
“Not fired.”
“Oh.”
“I have a property in Connecticut.”
“No.”
Massimo blinked.
Carla stood.
“No?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Rinaldi, but no.”
Marco turned away, perhaps hiding a smile.
Massimo stared at her.
“Carla, someone fired a gun in this room.”
“I know.”
“Your daughter was five feet away.”
“I know.”
“That’s why you’re leaving.”
“With respect, Nina is the reason you know what happened.”
“That’s exactly why she’s in danger.”
“And if Dean has people outside this house?”
Massimo stopped.
Carla continued.
“If you send us somewhere unfamiliar, how do I know who’s driving? Who’s guarding us? Who knows the address?”
She swallowed.
“At least here, I know which doors lock.”
Massimo looked at Marco.
She had a point.
Carla’s voice softened.
“I want Nina safe more than anything in this world. But running blindly doesn’t feel safe.”
Massimo nodded.
“Then you move to the north wing.”
Carla hesitated.
“That’s family space.”
“It’s protected space.”
She finally nodded.
“Okay.”
Nina smiled.
“Can I still wash your feet?”
Carla closed her eyes.
Massimo almost laughed.
“Yes.”
Nina looked at her mother triumphantly.
Carla pointed at her.
“After you promise never to crawl through a hidden bookcase while someone has a gun again.”
Nina frowned.
“That’s very specific.”
Marco coughed.
Massimo stared at him.
“Did you just laugh?”
“No, boss.”
“You did.”
“Maybe a little.”
For ten seconds, the library felt almost normal.
Then Marco’s phone rang.
The softness vanished.
He answered.
“Yeah?”
He listened.
His expression changed.
“When?”
Massimo watched him.
“What?”
Marco ended the call.
“Three men from the night security shift are gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Nobody knows.”
“Which men?”
Marco named them.
Massimo recognized all three.
Dean hires.
“How long?”
“About an hour.”
Massimo looked toward Carla and Nina.
“Lock the north wing.”
Marco nodded.
“Already happening.”
Massimo’s gaze dropped to Dean’s phone.
This was bigger than one man.
Much bigger.
By late afternoon, a cybersecurity consultant named Owen Mercer arrived through the same service entrance Evelyn had used.
He was thirty-five, nervous around armed guards, and apparently unaware until halfway through the visit exactly whose house he had entered.
When he finally realized, his face became pale.
“You could’ve told me.”
Marco shrugged.
“You still came.”
“I thought I was fixing a businessman’s phone.”
“You are.”
Owen looked at Massimo.
“Right.”
Massimo pointed toward the device.
“Can you open it?”
“Probably.”
“How long?”
“Depends.”
Massimo stared.
Owen sighed.
“Everyone always hates that answer.”
“Because it’s not an answer.”
“Give me an hour.”
Twenty-three minutes later, Owen said, “I’m in.”
Massimo looked impressed.
“You just lied about needing an hour.”
“I like exceeding expectations.”
The phone contained almost nothing.
No contacts under real names.
No photographs.
No regular text history.
But one encrypted messaging application remained active.
Owen recovered fragments.
The first messages appeared five months before the ambush.
Route confirmed. Tuesday.
Target vehicle second SUV.
Need injury fatal?
Response:
Preferred. If survival, Plan B.
Massimo felt cold.
Owen continued scrolling.
Another message.
Foster will be inside vehicle. Do not hit driver-side front.
Then:
Bellandi markings prepared.
Marco whispered a curse.
“They framed Bellandi.”
Massimo had suspected it after Hale spoke.
Seeing it written made the betrayal real.
For six months, Rinaldi soldiers had retaliated against Bellandi operations.
Warehouses burned.
Contracts were sabotaged.
Men disappeared.
A war had nearly erupted because Dean manufactured evidence.
Massimo thought of all the bloodshed triggered by the lie.
“This was designed to start a war,” he said.
Marco nodded.
“And weaken both sides.”
Massimo looked at him.
“So Dean takes over what’s left.”
Owen raised a hand.
“There’s more.”
A message dated four months earlier.
Patient showing unexpected lower-limb reflex. Increase suppression protocol.
Massimo’s stomach turned.
Another.
Hale resisting. Use son.
Another.
C says wedding must happen before December.
Massimo stared at the letter.
“C.”
Marco looked toward the ceiling.
“Camille.”
Massimo said nothing.
Then Owen found an audio attachment.
“Want me to play it?”
Massimo nodded.
Dean’s voice filled the room.
“We don’t need him dead anymore. Incapacitated works better. If Massimo dies now, succession becomes messy. If he marries Camille first, she gets legal authority. I handle the family. She handles the clean assets.”
A woman answered.
Camille.
“What if he improves?”
“He won’t.”
“You said Hale can’t guarantee that.”
“Hale doesn’t need to guarantee anything. He just needs to keep the signs hidden.”
“What if Massimo notices?”
Dean laughed.
“He can’t feel his own feet.”
The recording ended.
No one spoke.
Massimo stared ahead.
Camille had sat beside him in rehabilitation appointments.
Held his hand.
Told him she loved him whether he walked or not.
She had cried against his shoulder when a specialist said recovery was unlikely.
All while knowing his treatment was being manipulated.
Nina walked into the library carrying her basin.
Carla followed.
She stopped when she saw Massimo’s face.
“Bad news?”
Massimo looked at Nina.
The child smiled.
“Feet time.”
He almost told her no.
Then changed his mind.
“Feet time.”
Carla prepared the towel.
While Nina performed the ritual, Massimo listened to the recordings again.
Each word cut deeper.
Then Nina squeezed his right foot.
Massimo’s leg jerked.
This time everyone saw it.
Carla gasped.
Marco stepped closer.
Nina laughed.
“He kicked me!”
Massimo stared.
“I felt that.”
Nina squeezed again.
His foot moved.
Not much.
But unmistakably.
Massimo looked toward Carla.
She was crying.
He looked embarrassed.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because you felt it.”
Massimo looked down.
Nina placed both hands around his ankle.
“Wake up.”
His throat tightened.
Six months ago, he had believed he would spend the rest of his life looking down at legs that belonged to him only in appearance.
Now one of them had moved twice in the same day.
Evelyn returned shortly after dark with laboratory results.
She walked into the room holding a folder.
The expression on her face removed every trace of celebration.
“What?”
Massimo asked.
“The pill Nina found contained baclofen at a dangerously inappropriate dosage combined with another sedating compound.”
“Could that explain my symptoms?”
“Some of them.”
“And the others?”
“There were traces of a second medication.”
“What kind?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Something used in certain neurological conditions to decrease nerve excitability.”
Massimo stared.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning someone was pharmacologically suppressing your body’s ability to show recovery.”
Nina looked up from the floor.
“So they made his feet sleep?”
Evelyn slowly nodded.
“In a way.”
Nina’s face became furious.
Three-year-old furious.
She put both hands on her hips.
“That is very naughty.”
Nobody laughed.
Evelyn continued.
“If this had gone on long enough, complications from immobility could have become permanent.”
Massimo’s expression darkened.
“Can I recover?”
“I think you have a better chance than anyone told you.”
“How much better?”
“I’m not promising walking.”
“Can I stand?”
“Possibly.”
“When?”
“That depends on how much nerve function survived, how much muscle you lost, and how aggressively you rehabilitate.”
Massimo nodded once.
“Start tomorrow.”
“Massimo—”
“Tomorrow.”
Evelyn sighed.
“Fine.”
A guard appeared at the library door.
“Mr. Rinaldi?”
“What?”
“We have a problem.”
Massimo looked up.
“Camille is gone.”
Everyone froze.
Marco moved first.
“How?”
“We found the guard unconscious in the west corridor.”
Massimo’s face hardened.
“Dean?”
“Still locked down.”
Marco checked the security feed.
Then looked at Massimo.
“One of the missing night guards helped her.”
Massimo looked toward Nina.
“Get them upstairs.”
Carla grabbed the child.
Before they reached the door, Owen spoke.
“Wait.”
He was staring at Dean’s unlocked phone.
“What?”
“There’s a new message.”
Massimo rolled toward him.
The sender was unnamed.
Only one sentence appeared.
The girl and her mother leave tonight, or the next bullet won’t miss.
Carla saw the screen.
Her face went white.
Nina tugged her hand.
“Mommy?”
Carla immediately closed the phone.
Massimo looked at Marco.
“How many men do you trust?”
“Completely?”
“Yes.”
Marco hesitated.
“Six.”
Massimo nodded.
“Then tonight, we find out what six loyal men are worth.”
Outside the mansion, beyond the north hedge, Camille Ashwood sat inside a black SUV.
She was trembling.
The driver looked at her through the mirror.
“Dean said you’d have Massimo’s signatures by now.”
“He knows.”
“Then the plan changes.”
Camille turned.
“To what?”
The man looked toward the dark mansion.
“We remove the witness.”
Camille swallowed.
“Carla?”
He smiled.
May you like
“The child.”
And inside the house, Nina Bennett placed her stuffed rabbit beside Massimo’s sleeping feet, completely unaware that armed men were already approaching the estate.
