Chapter 5 - Marco Had Been Choosing What I Was Allowed to Know
I did not confront Marco.
My father had taught me at least one useful lesson:
Never accuse the man controlling your security before you understand how much security he controls.
Instead, I called an outside forensic firm.
No Castellano employees.
No family names.
No Marco.
They began auditing Harbor Crest.
Meanwhile Emma came home from the hospital to my townhouse because her apartment had been broken into while she was admitted.
Nothing expensive was taken.
Kitchen drawers emptied.
Mattress cut.
Noah’s desk searched.
Someone was still hunting the flash drive.
Emma wanted to go home anyway.
“No.”
She looked at me.
“I work for you. You don’t own me.”
Lucia hid a smile.
Fair.
So I corrected myself.
“I am asking you not to go somewhere an attacker has already searched.”
Emma folded her arms carefully around her injured ribs.
“That sounds different.”
“It was meant differently.”
She agreed to stay in a guest suite until police cleared the apartment.
That evening, she asked:
“Why would anyone care about my brother’s old work records?”
“Because paperwork is dangerous when the wrong person thought it was destroyed.”
She studied my face.
“Is this about Kolov?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the first fully honest answer I gave her.
Then Marco entered.
Emma’s entire body stiffened.
He noticed.
“What?”
She looked at his wrist.
A pale burn scar circled part of it.
Nothing like a tattoo.
Still, she stepped backward.
Marco looked offended.
“Emma?”
She whispered:
“The man who hit me smelled like your cologne.”
Marco laughed.
Too quickly.
“Half Manhattan wears that cologne.”
True.
Then Emma added:
“And he called the other man Paolo.”
Marco’s face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
Marco had a nephew named Paolo Bellini.
Twenty-nine.
Former amateur boxer.
Security subcontractor.
I had met him twice.
I walked toward Marco.
“You know a Paolo?”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“Many Italians are named Paolo.”
Lucia spoke from behind him.
“Your sister’s son is.”
Silence.
Marco finally smiled.
“Then I suppose you should ask him.”
So I did.
May you like
Paolo’s phone had been disconnected that morning.
And according to company travel records, Marco had approved a private car taking him to Newark Airport less than three hours after Emma was attacked.
