The Person Carlo Was Protecting

Chapter 08 - The Person Carlo Was Protecting

Gabriel was arrested before midnight.

Not convicted.

Not handcuffed theatrically.

Still arrested.

The business card.

His blood in the Lower Wacker car.

Rafael’s phone containing messages from a number tied to Gabriel’s office.

Enough for questions.

Luca did not interfere.

That mattered.

Three days earlier, he would have.

Claire watched him call outside counsel and say:

“No favors. Get him representation.”

Then he sat.

For the first time since the engagement dinner, Luca looked tired enough to be thirty-nine instead of dangerous.

Claire was still technically employed.

She had not worked a shift since Milwaukee.

Mrs. Carter—Evelyn—had returned to the mansion under federal interview restrictions.

The engagement dinner felt like another life.

Claire stood in the kitchen making tea because doing something with her hands helped.

The left still ached.

Luca entered.

“Can I ask you something?”

She looked at him.

“You just did.”

His mouth moved.

“Why haven’t you quit?”

Claire thought.

“Money.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Still?”

“Yes.”

“The truth does not pay rent.”

Fair.

“And?”

She looked at the kettle.

“I want to know how it ends.”

“That is dangerous.”

“So is marrying Vanessa.”

He almost laughed.

Then didn’t.

“I’m not.”

Claire looked at him.

“The wedding is off?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell her?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Like an adult.”

“That must have hurt.”

“Extremely.”

She smiled.

Then serious.

“Is she all right?”

“I think relieved.”

Good.

Luca leaned against the counter.

“I knew my father threatened James.”

“Yes.”

“I believed the affidavit.”

“Yes.”

“I kept it anyway.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you still willing to be in a room with me?”

Claire looked directly at him.

“Because I have not decided what you deserve from me.”

The answer landed.

He nodded.

“Fair.”

“And because deserving is not the only question.”

“What else?”

“What you do now.”

Silence.

That seemed to frighten him more than judgment.

The kettle clicked off.

Claire poured.

Her phone rang.

Mara.

“Claire, I need you downtown.”

“Why?”

“Carlo Bellini asked for you specifically.”

Luca’s face hardened.

Claire held up one finger.

Mine.

He stopped.

At the federal office, Carlo sat with two attorneys.

He looked older than he had at the engagement party.

Still elegant.

Still controlled.

Claire sat across.

“You wanted me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you are the only person in this mess who does not owe me anything.”

She almost laughed.

“That is a low qualification.”

“Useful.”

Mara started the recorder.

Carlo folded his hands.

“Gabriel did not kill Rafael.”

Claire waited.

“Who did?”

“I don’t know.”

She stared.

Carlo sighed.

“I know who ordered it.”

“Who?”

He looked toward the mirror.

Then back.

“My daughter.”

Claire felt anger rise.

“No.”

Carlo’s eyebrows lifted.

“You believe Vanessa.”

“I believe you benefit if she carries your crimes.”

His face changed.

Good.

“You taught her to lie.”

“Yes.”

“You arranged the fake transfer.”

“No.”

“Rafael?”

“I paid him for information.”

“Did you tell him to remove me?”

Carlo hesitated.

Claire saw it.

“Yes.”

“Meaning?”

“Get you fired.”

“Not killed.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because Dawson’s daughter inside Luca’s house was a risk.”

“You knew who I was.”

“From the day Evelyn hired you.”

Claire’s stomach tightened.

“Everyone.”

Carlo almost smiled sadly.

“Not Luca.”

That was becoming the strangest mercy.

“Who ordered Rafael killed?”

Carlo leaned back.

“Someone Gabriel has protected for years.”

Claire stared.

“His father is dead.”

“Yes.”

“Then?”

Carlo looked at Mara.

“I want cooperation terms.”

Mara’s expression did not move.

“You have none yet.”

“Then this ends.”

Claire stood.

Carlo’s eyes followed.

“You don’t want the name?”

“Yes.”

She picked up her bag.

“But I’m done letting powerful men turn truth into a vending machine.”

Mara almost smiled.

Carlo did not.

Claire walked to the door.

“Wait.”

She stopped.

Carlo looked suddenly less controlled.

“My wife.”

Claire frowned.

“Vanessa’s mother?”

“Yes.”

“Isabella Bellini.”

She knew the name.

Society photographs.

Charity boards.

Died nine years ago of pancreatic cancer.

“What about her?”

Carlo’s voice dropped.

“She was Vincent Santoro’s sister.”

Silence.

Gabriel’s aunt.

Vanessa’s mother.

That made Gabriel and Vanessa cousins.

Claire stared.

“Vanessa knows?”

“No.”

“Gabriel?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Eleven years.”

Of course.

The same confession from his father.

Carlo continued.

“Vincent and Isabella came from different marriages. She used Bellini after our wedding and never wanted the Santoro connection public.”

“Why?”

“Vincent was already under investigation.”

Claire sat again.

“What does this have to do with Rafael?”

“Isabella had a son before Vanessa.”

Claire felt the story tilt.

“What son?”

Carlo looked toward the table.

“She gave him up.”

“When?”

“Twenty-eight years ago.”

Claire stopped breathing.

No.

Too neat.

Carlo looked at her.

“His name was Rafael Ferraro.”

Silence filled the room.

Rafael was Vanessa’s half-brother.

Gabriel’s first cousin.

The man hired to watch Gabriel.

The man now dead.

Claire felt sick.

“Did Vanessa know?”

“No.”

“Did Rafael?”

“Recently.”

“Who told him?”

“Gabriel.”

There.

Gabriel had protected a blood secret.

Again.

Carlo continued.

“Rafael started demanding money.”

“Blackmail.”

“Yes.”

“From who?”

“Me.”

“Then you had motive.”

“Yes.”

Carlo met her eyes.

“I did not kill him.”

“Who did?”

“He said he had proof that the original Dawson money never stayed with our fathers.”

Claire frowned.

“What?”

“The nine million.”

“Where did it go?”

Carlo looked almost amused.

“That is the secret everyone has been protecting.”

He leaned forward.

“James Dawson moved it.”

Claire’s face hardened.

“My father returned one hundred thousand.”

“Not the nine million.”

“What are you saying?”

“He diverted the stolen funds into an account the three families could not touch.”

“Why?”

“For the workers.”

Claire stopped.

Carlo continued.

“Pension restoration. injury claims. widows.”

That sounded like James.

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why frame him as thief?”

“Because the money was gone.”

“And accusing a dead accountant was easier.”

“Yes.”

Claire’s eyes burned.

“Who knows where it is?”

Carlo looked at her.

“Gabriel.”

“Of course.”

“And one other person.”

“Who?”

Carlo’s expression softened in a way she did not trust.

“Your mother.”

Claire almost laughed.

“She’s dead.”

“Yes.”

“Then there is nobody.”

Carlo shook his head.

“Marianne left instructions with someone.”

“Who?”

He looked through the glass.

Toward the hallway where Luca waited.

“Luca’s mother.”

Sofia Moretti.

Dead eight years.

Another dead woman holding the living together with secrets.

Then Carlo said:

“And Sofia left them to Luca.”

Claire turned toward the hallway.

Luca stood beyond the glass.

He looked confused.

For once, completely.

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Carlo smiled without humor.

“He just doesn’t know where she hid them.”