Chapter 3: What the Door Heard
Marco sat in the leather chair across from Luca's desk the way he always had — one ankle crossed over his knee, shoulders relaxed, like a man with nothing to hide.
That posture used to mean something.
Luca set two cups of coffee on the desk.
He didn't sit down.
"You came early," Marco said.
"You came at all," Luca said.
"That tells me something."
Marco picked up his cup.
"You sounded fine in your message."
"I was."
"So what's this about?"
Luca opened the top drawer of his desk and placed a single photograph on the surface between them.
He didn't say anything.
He just watched Marco's face.
Marco looked down.
His cup stopped halfway to his mouth.
"Where did you get this?"
"My study," Luca said.
"Same place you were standing when it was taken."
Marco set the cup down carefully.
"Luca—"
"Don't." Luca's voice didn't rise.
It never did.
"Don't tell me it isn't what it looks like.
Don't tell me there's an explanation.
I've been sitting with this since midnight.
I've had time to think through every version of this story where you come out clean." He pulled the chair out and sat down.
"There isn't one."
Marco's jaw tightened.
"You don't know what was in that document."
"I know what was written on the back of it."
Silence.
"Twenty-two years," Luca said.
"I want to hear it from you.
Not from a photograph.
From you."
Marco looked at the window.
The morning light was flat and grey.
"It wasn't supposed to go this far."
"What was it supposed to do?"
"Scare you." Marco's voice dropped.
"That's all.
Vanessa said she just needed leverage.
Something to hold over you so you'd sign the property transfer before the wedding.
She said once it was done, everything would go back to normal."
Luca didn't move.
"She told you to threaten me."
"She told me it wouldn't come to anything."
"And you believed her."
Marco finally looked at him.
"She's convincing, Luca.
You know that better than anyone."
"I do." Luca picked up the photograph and placed it back in the drawer.
"Which is why I'm asking you one question, and I need the honest answer.
Not the answer that protects you.
The honest one."
Marco waited.
"Is she working alone?"
Something crossed Marco's face.
Not guilt.
Something closer to fear.
"No."
Luca's hands went flat on the desk.
"Who else?"
"Her brother.
Dante Bellini." Marco leaned forward.
"Luca, listen to me.
Dante isn't like Vanessa.
He doesn't want leverage.
He wants the Moretti accounts transferred before the wedding makes her a legal heir.
After that—" He stopped.
"After that," Luca said quietly, "I'm not useful anymore."
Marco didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Luca stood.
He walked to the window and looked out at the front gate where Marco's car was still parked at an angle, like a man who hadn't decided whether he was staying or leaving.
"You came here this morning," Luca said.
"You didn't have to."
"No."
"Why did you?"
Marco was quiet for a moment.
"Because twenty-two years ago you pulled me out of a situation I couldn't get out of alone.
And I've been trying to forget that I owe you ever since." He stood up.
"I'm not going to forget it today."
Luca turned around.
"Then here's what you're going to do," he said.
"You're going to go back to Vanessa.
You're going to tell her everything is on schedule.
You're going to smile at her the way you always do." He crossed the room and opened the study door.
"And you're going to call me the moment Dante makes contact."
Marco picked up his jacket from the back of the chair.
He paused at the door.
"She's going to figure it out."
"I know," Luca said.
"What happens then?"
Luca looked at him steadily.
"Then we find out if she's as smart as she thinks she is."
Marco left.
Luca closed the door.
He stood in the silence of his study for a long moment.
Then he picked up his phone and called a number he hadn't used in three years.
It rang twice.
"It's Moretti," he said.
"I need eyes on Dante Bellini.
Starting now."
He hung up.
Upstairs, he could hear footsteps.
Light ones.
May you like
Moving toward the guest corridor.
Claire was awake.
