Chapter 6 - THE FIRST BETRAYALAdrian reached his father's estate at 11:40 p.m.
He didn't call ahead.
He didn't bring his usual security convoy.
He drove himself through the iron gates and parked beneath the stone portico where Claire had once waited for him after school.
The memory struck unexpectedly.
She had been sixteen.
He had been twenty.
She was sitting on the steps with a scraped knee, furious because another girl had called her a charity case.
Adrian had sat beside her and said, "You're a Moretti whether they like it or not."
She had looked at him with enormous brown eyes.
"Even though my name is Bennett?"
"Especially because your name is Bennett."
He had believed it.
Now he wasn't sure what the name meant.
His father was waiting in the library.
Vittorio Moretti sat beside the fireplace, a glass of whiskey untouched on the table.
"You should have called," Vittorio said.
Adrian closed the door.
"Did you arrange Claire's kidnapping?"
His father didn't flinch.
"No."
"Did you know about it?"
Vittorio looked toward the fire.
"Not until it was already underway."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the truth."
Adrian stepped closer.
"Lily says you planned the first kidnapping."
Vittorio's expression changed.
"What first kidnapping?"
"Don't play games with me."
His father stood slowly.
"Son, whatever Lily Monroe told you, understand that she is not your friend."
"Then why did you put her in charge of our finances?"
"Because she was brilliant."
"Was?"
Vittorio sighed.
"Because I made a mistake."
Adrian stared at him.
"You don't admit mistakes."
"Age teaches a man unpleasant things."
"Then tell me about Thomas Bennett."
The old man's face hardened.
"Leave the dead alone."
"Claire found a key."
Vittorio went completely still.
Adrian saw it.
There.
Fear.
Not anger.
Not irritation.
Fear.
"What key?" Vittorio asked.
"A brass one."
His father gripped the back of his chair.
"Where?"
"Why?"
"Adrian."
"Tell me what happened nineteen years ago."
Vittorio sat down.
For several seconds, he looked older than Adrian had ever seen him.
Then he spoke.
"Thomas Bennett worked for me."
"I know."
"He managed financial accounts that were supposed to remain invisible."
"Illegal accounts."
"Some."
Adrian waited.
"One day, Thomas discovered money being moved through companies I didn't recognize. At first, I thought someone was stealing."
"Who was?"
Vittorio looked at his son.
"I never found out."
"Then what happened?"
"Thomas told me the money was being used to pay men connected to a rival organization."
Adrian frowned.
"Which organization?"
"The Black Serpents."
The tattoo.
The kidnappers.
Adrian felt his stomach tighten.
"Thomas believed someone inside my organization was financing an attack against me."
"And?"
"I told him to keep investigating."
"Then he died."
Vittorio closed his eyes.
"Yes."
"Saving you."
His father didn't answer.
Adrian stepped closer.
"Dad."
Vittorio opened his eyes.
"Thomas wasn't trying to save me."
Adrian froze.
"What?"
"He was trying to stop the men who came for him."
The room seemed to tilt.
"Why did you tell Claire he died protecting you?"
"Because she was a little girl who had already lost too much."
"That's not why."
Vittorio looked away.
Adrian's voice hardened.
"Why?"
His father whispered, "Because I was ashamed."
At the same hour, Marcus and I drove toward Milwaukee.
The brass key rested in my coat pocket.
I had refused Adrian's offer of protection.
Marcus had agreed to drive only after promising that he would not report my location unless I was in immediate danger.
The storage facility stood beside an old industrial district.
Its sign flickered above a chain-link fence.
The night attendant barely looked up when we entered.
I gave him the unit number.
He handed me a clipboard.
"Identification?"
I showed him my driver's license.
He glanced at the name.
"Bennett."
"Yes."
He looked at me more carefully.
"Your father left instructions."
My heart stopped.
"What instructions?"
The attendant reached beneath the counter.
He removed a sealed envelope.
It was yellowed with age.
Across the front, in handwriting I recognized instantly, were two words.
For Claire.
My knees nearly gave way.
Marcus steadied me.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a short letter.
My beautiful girl,
If you're reading this, then I wasn't able to explain things myself.
I hope you grew up happy. I hope you found people who loved you without asking you to earn it.
There are things I learned that put our family in danger. I hid the evidence because I didn't know whom to trust.
Whatever you discover, remember this: you were never a debt anyone had the right to collect.
Love, Dad.
I pressed the paper against my chest.
For nineteen years, I had imagined my father dying with Adrian's father's name on his lips.
Now I wondered whether he had died trying to protect me.
Marcus looked away while I cried.
When I could breathe again, we went to the storage unit.
Inside stood three metal filing cabinets.
A desk.
Several cardboard boxes.
And a locked fireproof case.
The brass key opened it.
Inside were financial ledgers, photographs, and a small digital recorder.
I pressed play.
Static crackled.
Then my father's voice filled the room.
"If anything happens to me, the money trail begins with the Moretti Foundation."
I covered my mouth.
He continued.
"Vittorio doesn't know how deep this goes. Someone is using his name to move money."
A pause.
Then another voice entered the recording.
Female.
Familiar.
"You should have left this alone, Thomas."
I looked at Marcus.
He looked at me.
The woman's voice continued.
"You have a daughter. Think about her."
My father answered.
"That's exactly what I'm doing."
A door slammed.
The recording ended.
Marcus whispered, "Do you recognize her?"
I nodded slowly.
My throat closed.
Because I had heard that voice almost every Sunday of my childhood.
May you like
It belonged to Adrian's mother.
Isabella Moretti.
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