Chapter 5 - THE HOUSE SHE RAN FROMGenevieve returned to the Hamptons six days later.
She almost asked Alessandro to turn the car around.
The Romano estate appeared beyond the iron gates exactly as she remembered it.
Gray stone.
Black shutters.
Bare trees lining the long driveway.
The Atlantic Ocean spread beyond the cliffs behind the property, violent beneath the December sky.
Nothing had changed.
That was the problem.
Genevieve sat in the rear of the armored SUV with Lucia sleeping beside her.
Alessandro sat opposite them.
He had been watching Genevieve since they passed through the gates.
“You don’t have to stay here.”
She looked at him.
“You said it was secure.”
“It is.”
“That isn’t what you meant.”
“No.”
Alessandro leaned forward.
“If walking into that house is too much, we leave.”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere.”
“Sandro.”
“I mean it.”
He looked toward Lucia.
“Montana. Italy. Switzerland. A place nobody knows our names.”
Genevieve almost smiled.
“You would survive three days in Montana.”
“Two.”
“Maybe.”
The car stopped beneath the covered entrance.
A dozen security officers were visible around the grounds.
Not Romano soldiers.
Alessandro had dismissed nearly every guard who served under Vincenzo’s security structure.
The new detail consisted largely of former military contractors vetted through independent agencies.
Even Mateo had undergone Alessandro’s new background checks.
Mateo had been deeply offended.
Then he had admitted it was probably necessary.
Genevieve stepped from the vehicle.
Cold air struck her face.
She looked up at the mansion.
Seven months earlier, she had left through a service gate before sunrise.
She had been thirteen weeks pregnant.
Her hands had shaken so badly she dropped the car keys twice.
She remembered looking toward Alessandro’s bedroom window.
He had been asleep.
She had wanted to go back.
Then Vincenzo’s recording played inside her head.
Alessandro’s voice.
“Leo has become a liability. Handle it tonight.”
She had believed every word.
Now she knew why the voice sounded convincing.
Vincenzo possessed years of recorded conversations.
Phone calls.
Meetings.
Security recordings.
He had paid an audio specialist to reconstruct Alessandro’s voice from hundreds of samples.
The fabrication had been almost perfect.
Almost.
Genevieve had never asked whether the pauses sounded unnatural.
Fear had supplied whatever evidence was missing.
“Evie?”
Alessandro stood beside her.
She realized she had stopped walking.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m fine.”
His expression tightened.
Genevieve immediately regretted the sharpness.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
She looked toward the front doors.
“Just give me a minute.”
Alessandro nodded.
He did not touch her.
That mattered.
For years Alessandro’s instinct had always been to solve.
To move.
To remove obstacles before Genevieve could even name them.
Now he simply stood beside her.
After almost a minute, she walked forward.
The doors opened.
Mrs. Donnelly, the estate’s sixty-three-year-old housekeeper, immediately began crying.
“Oh, my God.”
Genevieve barely had time to react before the older woman wrapped her arms around her.
“You’re alive.”
“I’m alive.”
“You terrible girl.”
Mrs. Donnelly pulled back and touched Genevieve’s face.
“Do you know what you did to us?”
Tears ran down her cheeks.
“To him?”
Her gaze briefly moved toward Alessandro.
“I know.”
Then Mrs. Donnelly noticed the infant carrier.
Everything else disappeared.
“That is a baby.”
Alessandro sighed.
“Yes, Margaret.”
“That is your baby?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Donnelly slapped Alessandro’s arm.
Hard.
He stared at her.
“You knew?”
“I discovered her existence approximately six days ago.”
Mrs. Donnelly looked scandalized.
Then she turned toward Genevieve.
“Let me see.”
Within seconds Lucia had become the center of the household.
The cook emerged from the kitchen.
Two maids abandoned a linen cart.
Even one of Alessandro’s new security men briefly looked through the doorway before Mateo ordered him back to his position.
For ten minutes Genevieve almost felt normal.
Then she looked toward the staircase.
Her stomach tightened again.
Their bedroom waited upstairs.
Alessandro noticed.
“I had your things moved.”
Genevieve turned.
“What?”
“The bedroom.”
“You changed it?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I prepared another suite.”
“Why?”
“Because you disappeared from that room.”
The answer struck her.
Alessandro lowered his voice.
“I thought waking up there might be difficult.”
Genevieve stared at him.
This was new.
Not the protection.
He had always protected.
This was consideration.
The difference was enormous.
“Thank you.”
The new suite overlooked the ocean.
Fresh flowers stood near the windows.
A bassinet occupied one side of the bedroom.
There were no photographs from before Genevieve disappeared.
She noticed that too.
“Where are the pictures?”
“In storage.”
“You removed them?”
“I didn’t know if seeing them would help or hurt.”
Genevieve placed Lucia in the bassinet.
“You’re thinking too much.”
Alessandro leaned against the doorway.
“I have been informed that this is preferable to not thinking enough.”
“By whom?”
“Dr. Hayes.”
She laughed.
The surgeon had developed an unusual relationship with Alessandro during the week after the attack.
Dr. Hayes treated him with absolutely no fear.
Alessandro found this both irritating and refreshing.
Genevieve sat carefully on the edge of the bed.
Her incision still hurt.
Alessandro immediately moved toward her.
“I can sit by myself.”
“I know.”
“Then stop hovering.”
“I am not hovering.”
“You are three feet away.”
“That is a reasonable distance.”
“For a bodyguard.”
He paused.
“You married a bodyguard with organized crime interests.”
Genevieve laughed again.
Then a sound came from the hall.
Mateo appeared.
He carried a small black evidence bag.
“Sorry.”
Alessandro straightened.
“What?”
“We finished searching Vincenzo’s office.”
“And?”
Mateo looked at Genevieve.
“We found something belonging to Leo.”
The room went silent.
Genevieve slowly stood.
“What?”
Mateo removed an object from the evidence bag.
A watch.
Old silver.
Scratched face.
Brown leather strap.
Genevieve recognized it immediately.
Her brother had worn it since college.
She had given it to him for his twenty-first birthday.
Her knees weakened.
Alessandro caught her elbow.
“Where?”
“Hidden behind a removable panel in Vincenzo’s desk.”
Genevieve reached for the watch.
Her fingers trembled.
Leo had died ten months earlier.
She had last seen him two days before his disappearance.
He had been nervous.
Distracted.
He kept checking his phone.
When she asked what was wrong, he laughed.
“Work.”
She believed him.
Now she hated herself for it.
“Why would Vincenzo keep this?”
Mateo shook his head.
“We don’t know.”
Alessandro examined the watch.
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Mateo pointed toward the back.
“There’s an engraving.”
Genevieve turned it over.
Three words had been scratched into the metal.
NOT THE SAFE.
Her brow furrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Alessandro’s expression changed.
“Leo knew about your safe.”
Genevieve looked at him.
“What safe?”
“Your brother kept a private deposit box.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I did.”
Alessandro walked toward the window.
“After he died, we opened it.”
“What was inside?”
“Documents suggesting he had been moving money out of union accounts.”
Genevieve stared.
“That’s why Vincenzo said you killed him.”
“Yes.”
“Did you believe Leo was stealing?”
“At first.”
The admission hurt.
Alessandro faced her.
“The evidence was convincing.”
“But?”
“But the amounts were strange.”
He folded his arms.
“Leo supposedly stole more than four million dollars.”
Genevieve went pale.
“My brother lived in a one-bedroom apartment.”
“I know.”
“He drove a twelve-year-old BMW.”
“I know.”
“So where did the money go?”
“That question disappeared beneath everything that happened after his death.”
Alessandro looked at the watch.
“Vincenzo made certain of it.”
Genevieve examined the scratched message again.
NOT THE SAFE.
“What if Leo knew the safe would be discovered?”
Mateo nodded.
“That is what I thought.”
“Then where did he hide the real evidence?”
Nobody answered.
Genevieve looked carefully at the watch.
Leo had always loved puzzles.
When they were children, he hid birthday presents behind clues.
Once he made Genevieve solve twelve riddles to find a twenty-dollar necklace.
She turned the watch between her fingers.
“What are you doing?” Alessandro asked.
“Thinking like Leo.”
The watch had stopped.
4:17.
She stared.
“He died after midnight.”
“Yes.”
“So why did the watch stop at 4:17?”
“It might have been damaged earlier.”
“No.”
Genevieve shook her head.
“Leo was obsessive about watches. He would have fixed it.”
She pressed the crown.
Nothing happened.
Then she pulled it outward.
A tiny metallic click came from the back.
Mateo moved closer.
Genevieve twisted the crown.
The rear plate loosened.
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed.
Inside the watch was no conventional mechanism.
A tiny black memory card had been fitted beneath the false backing.
Mateo exhaled.
“Well.”
Genevieve stared at it.
“My brother knew.”
Alessandro’s expression darkened.
“Knew what?”
“That somebody was going to kill him.”
The words barely left her mouth.
For months Genevieve had mourned Leo as a victim.
Now another possibility became unbearable.
He had known danger was approaching.
He had hidden evidence.
He had left a message.
And he had not come to her.
Mateo carried the memory card to Alessandro’s secure office.
The computer used to access it had never been connected to the internet.
Genevieve insisted on being present.
Alessandro did not object.
There were fourteen files.
Bank records.
Audio recordings.
Photographs.
Shipping manifests.
The final file was a video.
Leo appeared on the screen.
Alive.
Genevieve covered her mouth.
Her brother sat inside what looked like a parked car.
His hair was messy.
A bruise marked his cheek.
He looked frightened.
“If you’re watching this, something went wrong.”
Genevieve began crying.
Alessandro reached for her hand.
Leo continued.
“Gen, I’m sorry.”
His eyes moved toward the windshield.
“I should have told you earlier.”
He swallowed.
“I found something inside the union accounts. The money isn’t being stolen from the family.”
Alessandro leaned toward the screen.
“It’s being moved through us.”
Leo looked directly into the camera.
“Someone has been using Romano-controlled unions to wash money for federal contracts, construction deals, and foreign accounts.”
A pause.
“I thought it was Vincenzo.”
Genevieve stopped breathing.
“But he isn’t alone.”
Alessandro’s hand tightened.
Leo took something from the passenger seat.
A photograph.
He held it toward the camera.
Three men stood together outside a restaurant.
Vincenzo.
A federal prosecutor Genevieve recognized from television.
And Luca Ferretti.
One of Alessandro’s most powerful captains.
Genevieve looked at her husband.
Alessandro had become perfectly still.
Leo lowered the photograph.
“If Sandro sees this, tell him something for me.”
Genevieve’s tears fell faster.
Leo gave a tired smile.
“Tell him I’m sorry I didn’t trust him sooner.”
Alessandro looked down.
“And Gen.”
Leo’s expression softened.
“If anything happens to me, don’t run from Alessandro.”
Genevieve broke.
“He didn’t order it.”
Leo leaned closer to the camera.
“He may be a bastard.”
Despite everything, Genevieve laughed through her tears.
“But he loves you more than he loves that empire.”
Leo’s smile disappeared.
“And that may be the only thing that saves him.”
The video ended.
Silence filled the office.
Genevieve covered her face.
Alessandro stood beside her without speaking.
He knew there were no words capable of easing that kind of grief.
After several minutes she lowered her hands.
“Luca Ferretti.”
Alessandro nodded.
“He runs the docks.”
“And he worked with Vincenzo.”
“Yes.”
Mateo stared at the frozen video frame.
“Which means Vincenzo was not the entire conspiracy.”
Alessandro’s expression became cold.
“No.”
Genevieve wiped her tears.
For the first time, grief was no longer making her want to hide.
It was making her angry.
She looked at Alessandro.
“What do we do?”
Old Alessandro would have already given the order.
Find Luca.
Take him.
Make him talk.
Instead Alessandro looked at his wife.
“We decide together.”
Genevieve glanced toward the image of her brother.
Then she said something neither man expected.
“We don’t kill Luca.”
Mateo raised an eyebrow.
Alessandro’s face remained unreadable.
“Why?”
“Because dead men cannot tell us who else was involved.”
She pointed toward the prosecutor in the photograph.
“And I want every name.”
Alessandro stared at her for several seconds.
May you like
Then slowly, almost proudly, he smiled.
“So do I.”
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