Chapter 3 - THE ENVELOPE THAT DESTROYED EVERYTHING
Dante watched the security footage eleven times.
The first time, he saw Valentina.
The second, Gabriel Voss.
By the eleventh viewing, he noticed something neither man had mentioned.
Valentina wasn't surprised to see Gabriel.
She was waiting for him.
The footage showed them meeting near a service entrance at 10:42 p.m. Gabriel handed her a black envelope. Valentina opened it, examined a document inside, and slipped it into her handbag.
Fourteen minutes later, she approached Dante.
That was when she told him about the supposed threat against his warehouse.
Dante leaned back.
"Bring her here."
Marco nodded.
"Alive?"
Dante gave him a cold look.
"She's not my enemy until I know what she's done."
Valentina arrived at the Russo estate forty minutes later.
She wore a cream-colored coat and carried the confidence of a woman who believed she could still control the situation.
"Dante, finally."
He didn't greet her.
He placed the photograph on his desk.
"Explain."
Valentina glanced at it.
For a fraction of a second, her expression changed.
Then she smiled.
"You're investigating me because your wife left?"
"I'm investigating you because you lied to me."
"I didn't."
"Gabriel Voss."
She sighed.
"An old acquaintance."
"You told me he was dead."
"He was supposed to be."
Dante stepped around the desk.
"What did he give you?"
"Nothing important."
"Try again."
Valentina's eyes hardened.
"You know what your problem is? You have spent your entire life believing everyone around you owes you complete honesty."
"Answer the question."
She removed a folded document from her handbag.
"Your wife has been keeping secrets too."
Dante took it.
It was a photocopy of a bank transfer.
A large amount had been moved from a Moretti family account into a private offshore account eleven weeks earlier.
The recipient's name was partially obscured.
But the account had been opened using Dante's corporate identification.
He looked up.
"What is this?"
"Ask Isabella."
"Why?"
"Because she has been moving money without your knowledge."
Dante studied the document.
"How did you get it?"
"Gabriel."
"Why does he have access to my accounts?"
Valentina smiled faintly.
"Perhaps because someone gave him access."
Dante understood.
Someone inside his organization had betrayed him.
But there was something more disturbing.
The transfer date matched the day Isabella had discovered she was pregnant.
"Where did the money go?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"Then perhaps you should ask your wife."
Dante walked toward the door.
"Get out."
Valentina stopped.
"You're making a mistake."
He turned.
"You made one when you thought I wouldn't notice."
She left without another word.
Marco entered a moment later.
"Should I have her followed?"
"Already done. I want every call, every account, every person she's contacted in the last six months."
Marco nodded.
Dante returned to the document.
There was a handwritten reference number at the bottom.
He recognized it.
It belonged to a trust account established by his late mother.
A trust that had been created specifically for a child.
His child.
His mother had died before he married Isabella, but she had left instructions that any future Russo heir would receive a substantial inheritance.
Dante had never told Isabella about it.
So how had the money been connected to her?
"Marco, contact the bank."
Before Marco could answer, Dante's private line rang.
An unknown number.
He picked up.
"Dante Russo."
A woman's voice came through.
"Dante?"
His entire body went still.
"Isabella."
She was crying.
Not loudly.
Not hysterically.
Just quietly enough to make him understand how hard she was trying not to.
"Where are you?"
"Don't."
"Baby, listen to me—"
"Don't call me that."
He closed his eyes.
"Are you safe?"
"I'm fine."
"Your father said you're safe."
"Then why are you searching every hospital in Chicago?"
Dante glanced at Marco.
She knew.
"Because I was worried."
"No. You were angry because I left."
"That's not true."
"I saw the photographs, Dante."
His heart stopped.
"What photographs?"
"The ones Valentina sent me."
He looked toward the closed office door.
"Isabella, whatever you saw—"
"I saw you kissing her."
He said nothing.
"I saw you holding her hand. I saw you entering her apartment. I saw the two of you leaving the hotel after midnight."
Dante swallowed.
"I made a mistake."
"A mistake is forgetting an anniversary. A mistake is missing a dinner reservation."
Her voice cracked.
"You slept with another woman on our wedding night."
He had no defense.
"I know."
"I waited for you."
"I know."
"I bought you something."
He looked at the tiny socks still sitting on his bedside table.
"I found them."
A long silence followed.
Then Isabella whispered, "You weren't supposed to find them like that."
Dante's chest tightened.
"Come home. Please. We can fix this."
"No, Dante. You can fix yourself. I need to decide whether I ever want to see you again."
"Let me see you."
"Why?"
"Because you're carrying my child."
The silence that followed was different.
Then she spoke.
"That's exactly why I called."
Dante straightened.
"What happened?"
"The doctor found something during my appointment this morning."
He gripped the desk.
"Is the baby all right?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"The ultrasound isn't the only thing I left for you."
Dante stared at the phone.
"What else?"
"Ask your mother."
"My mother is dead."
"I know."
"Isabella, what are you talking about?"
Before she could answer, a man's voice sounded in the background.
"Mrs. Russo, we need to leave. Now."
Dante recognized it.
Gabriel Voss.
"Isabella!"
The call disconnected.
Dante immediately dialed the number.
It was already unavailable.
He turned to Marco.
"Find Gabriel."
Marco looked pale.
"Boss, there's something I need to tell you."
"What?"
"We recovered a second security recording from the estate."
"Show me."
Marco placed a tablet on the desk.
The footage showed Isabella entering the private library at 11:35 p.m.
She stood in front of Dante's mother's old desk.
Then she opened a hidden drawer.
Inside was a photograph.
Dante leaned closer.
The photograph showed his mother holding a newborn baby.
But the baby wasn't him.
And written across the back were five words.
May you like
THE FIRST RUSSO HEIR LIVED.
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