Chapter 2
THE NAME ON THE CONTRACT
Dominic did not move for several seconds. The photograph trembled between his fingers, though he had never considered himself a man capable of shaking.
“Everyone out,” he ordered.
His security chief, Marco Bellini, hesitated. “Boss, the doctor is here.”
“Then the doctor stays with Emily. Everyone else leaves.”
Vanessa stepped toward him. “Dominic, please. You can't make decisions while you're upset.”
He looked at her, and whatever she saw in his face stopped her cold.
“You've had four years to tell me the truth. You chose tonight to try to burn it.”
Marco escorted Vanessa into the adjoining sitting room, where two guards remained at the door. Dominic stayed with Emily while the physician examined her. The baby’s heartbeat was strong, but the doctor warned that the blow to Emily’s back and the stress could trigger complications. She needed rest and monitoring.
Dominic crouched beside her chair. “You should have called for help instead of trying to protect that case.”
“I did call for help, sir. I called you.”
The answer landed harder than he expected. Emily lowered her eyes, suddenly embarrassed by her own honesty.
“Why would Whitmore bring it to you?” Dominic asked.
“He said your brother trusted people who were invisible to the powerful. I clean rooms. Nobody notices me. He thought I could get the case inside without attracting attention.”
“And you agreed?”
“Mr. Whitmore said it might prove Gabriel didn't deserve what happened to him.” Her hand settled over her stomach. “I know what it means to be frightened of someone who has power over your life.”
Dominic wanted to ask what she meant, but the physician was still beside her. He ordered a guest suite prepared near the medical room and promised Emily she would not be sent back to work.
Then he carried the briefcase into his private study and locked the door.
The contract’s third signature belonged to Senator Malcolm Voss, Dominic’s godfather and the man who had delivered the eulogy at Gabriel’s funeral. Voss had helped the Morettis secure legitimate businesses, settle disputes, and survive investigations. Dominic had trusted him with secrets he had never shared with his own captains.
A phone vibrated inside the lining of the briefcase. It was an old prepaid device. One message waited on the screen.
IF YOU HAVE THE CASE, DO NOT TRUST THE FUNERAL RECORDS. CHECK THE SECOND CASKET.
Dominic read it twice.
Gabriel’s funeral had been closed-casket. Dominic had identified his brother’s body through a hospital bracelet and a signed report. Voss had personally assured him that the damage from the crash made a viewing impossible.
Dominic called Marco.
“Find Daniel Whitmore. Quietly. And get me every document connected to Gabriel’s funeral, including the original transport records.”
“Anything else?”
“Find out who had access to the morgue that night.”
A pause followed. “Boss, that could implicate people close to the family.”
“It already does.”
Dominic opened the sealed investor agreement again. A handwritten note had been tucked beneath the last page, so thin it had almost blended into the paper.
The note contained an address and a time: 11:40 P.M., St. Agnes Cemetery, mausoleum entrance.
At the bottom, Gabriel had written six words.
IF I AM ALIVE, COME ALONE.
Dominic glanced at the clock. It was 10:58.
Then someone knocked on the study door.
Vanessa’s voice came through the wood, quiet and controlled. “Dominic, I know what the photograph means.”
He opened the door only a few inches.
She looked as if she had aged ten years in the space of an hour. “Gabriel came to me before the accident. He said if anything happened to him, you would be the first person they’d try to manipulate.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
She swallowed. “The people who made your family rich.”
Before Dominic could press her, the house alarm chirped twice. Marco’s voice crackled through the intercom.
“Boss, we have a problem. Someone just entered the east gate.”
“Who?”
Marco sounded shaken. “The security camera identifies him as Gabriel Moretti.”
Dominic turned toward the monitor.
May you like
A man stood beneath the gate light, older, thinner, with a pale scar running from his temple to his jaw. He looked directly into the camera and raised one hand.
Then the feed went black.
