“Don’t.”
Lorenzo’s voice stopped me before I reached Marco.
“Don’t what?”
“Accuse him without evidence.”
“His father’s signature is evidence.”
“Against his father.”
“Who’s dead.”
“Yes.”
“And Marco deleted the footage.”
“We don’t know that.”
I stared at Lorenzo.
“You trust him.”
“With my life.”
“That’s exactly what scares me.”
Marco had been Lorenzo’s closest friend since they were teenagers.
They had grown up together.
Fought together.
Built businesses together.
Marco had stood beside Lorenzo through his father’s death and the collapse of every attempted engagement.
If Marco was responsible, this wasn’t merely betrayal.
It was surgery without anesthesia.
Lorenzo confronted him privately.
I wasn’t supposed to listen.
Naturally, I listened.
“My father was dirty,” Marco said.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“You never told me.”
“I was seventeen when he died, Lorenzo.”
“You were twenty-nine.”
Silence.
Then Marco said, “I found records after my mother died. I burned them.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because I was ashamed.”
“You destroyed evidence.”
“Against a dead man.”
“Against Amelia’s father’s killers.”
Marco’s voice broke.
“I didn’t know that.”
I stepped into the room.
Both men looked at me.
“Did your father know mine?”
Marco nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your father confronted him.”
“About the money?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try harder.”
Marco flinched.
Good.
“I heard them arguing once,” he said. “Your father said he had copies. My father told him he was going to get himself killed.”
“Threat?”
“I thought it was a warning.”
“And now?”
Marco looked sick.
“I don’t know.”
Lorenzo asked about the missing footage.
Marco handed over his phone, passwords, keys.
“Check everything.”
Security eventually found the deletion.
Marco’s credentials had been used.
But not from Marco’s device.
Someone had copied them.
Then the bigger surprise arrived.
Rosa.
She entered Lorenzo’s office carrying a folder.
“I should have told you years ago.”
Lorenzo stood.
“Told me what?”
“Thomas Carter came to me.”
My knees weakened.
“My father?”
Rosa looked at me.
“Three days before he died.”
She explained that my father had uncovered a laundering network built through legitimate Duca companies without Lorenzo’s father’s knowledge.
Salvatore Duca and Vincent Bellini were involved.
But they weren’t alone.
Someone younger was helping them.
Someone who understood digital banking better than they did.
My father called him “the accountant.”
“Ethan,” I whispered.
Rosa shook her head.
“Ethan would have been too young then.”
Right.
Eleven years ago Ethan had barely finished college.
“But he could have inherited it,” Lorenzo said.
The conspiracy hadn’t ended.
It had changed hands.
Ethan had spent years working for Northstar.
Then he met me.
Suddenly our relationship looked less accidental.
My stomach turned.
“Did he date me because of Dad?”
Nobody answered.
That hurt more than an answer.
I walked outside.
Cold air hit my face.
Lorenzo followed.
“I loved him,” I said.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. I defended him. When friends said he was controlling, I defended him. When he criticized me, I thought he was helping.”
“You trusted someone.”
“I was stupid.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Give me some motivational speech.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“What were you going to say?”
“That trusting someone and being deceived are not the same moral act.”
That shut me up.
He stepped closer.
“His dishonesty belongs to him.”
I swallowed.
“Where did you learn that?”
His eyes changed.
“Six women.”
Of course.
“You still think they left because of you.”
“They did.”
“No. Somebody manipulated them.”
“They still believed it.”
“Because they were frightened.”
“And you aren’t?”
I looked up at him.
“Yes.”
That surprised him.
“I’m scared all the time lately.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because being scared of what’s happening isn’t the same as being scared of you.”
His breath caught.
I touched his tie.
The same kind I had nearly strangled him with when we met.
“I’m not afraid of you, Lorenzo.”
“You should be afraid of what follows me.”
“Maybe you should stop deciding what I should feel.”
His hand came up slowly.
Touched my cheek.
“May I?”
Two words.
That was all.
I nodded.
He kissed me.
There was nothing frightening about it.
Nothing rushed.
Nothing taken.
His mouth touched mine with a tenderness so careful it almost broke my heart.
When we separated, his forehead rested against mine.
“You have terrible timing,” he whispered.
“I tripped into our relationship. What did you expect?”
He laughed softly.
Then my phone rang.
Ethan.
I answered.
“Hello?”
His voice was frantic.
“Amelia, you need to get away from Duca.”
“Why?”
“He’s using you.”
“That’s interesting coming from you.”
Silence.
Then:
“You found the recipe tin.”
My blood turned cold.
Lorenzo saw my face.
I put the phone on speaker.
“How do you know about the tin?”
Ethan breathed.
“Because your father told my father where he hid it.”
Everything stopped.
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
Ethan answered.
“Daniel Cole.”
Lorenzo’s face changed.
I had never heard the name.
He had.
“Who is Daniel Cole?” I whispered.
Lorenzo took the phone from my hand.
“The accountant.”