Clemente wanted Dominic Ferretti brought to him immediately.
Natalie stopped him.
That became their pattern.
Clemente wanted direct action.
Natalie wanted information.
“You drag Ferretti into a room tonight,” she said, “and whoever is working with him disappears.”
“If he threatened you—”
“We don’t know he did.”
“He leaked the consultant detail.”
“Or somebody saw his copy.”
Clemente paced his private study.
“You’re defending him.”
“I’m defending the investigation.”
“You received a threat.”
“And losing your temper is exactly what whoever sent it wants.”
He turned toward her.
“You expect me to ignore that?”
“No.”
“What do you expect?”
Natalie lowered her voice.
“For you to trust me.”
The room went quiet.
Clemente stopped pacing.
Natalie had never used those words with him before.
Not personally.
He studied her.
Then nodded.
“What do you need?”
She smiled faintly.
“Your family dinner seating chart.”
He stared.
“That’s your plan?”
“It’s part of it.”
Within an hour, Natalie covered an entire wall with names, timestamps, seating locations, office-access records, phone calls, and photographs.
Matteo entered with food.
“Natalie, you know most people buy engagement magazines.”
She accepted a sandwich.
“Most people don’t discover corporate espionage at dessert.”
He looked at Clemente.
“You look tired.”
Clemente ignored him.
Natalie studied the board.
Ferretti had received the false consultant version at 10:18 a.m.
The fake detail surfaced through an outside inquiry at 1:47 p.m.
During that window, Ferretti had attended two meetings.
One with accounting.
One with Lorenzo Lombardo.
Clemente’s second cousin.
Natalie frowned.
Lorenzo was twenty-nine.
Charming.
Restless.
Always complaining he had been given less responsibility than Matteo.
He had also been at dinner.
Three seats from Adrien Viscari.
“Where was Lorenzo when DeLuca approached us?” Natalie asked.
Matteo thought.
“Near the bar.”
“Watching?”
“Probably.”
Natalie moved his photograph.
Clemente noticed.
“You think Lorenzo?”
“I think he wants something.”
“He always wants something.”
“Exactly.”
They pulled his access records.
Lorenzo had no authorization for Bellandi.
But he had been inside the executive floor multiple times.
Family privilege.
He knew staff.
He knew schedules.
He knew Natalie.
More importantly, Natalie remembered something.
Three weeks earlier, Lorenzo had asked to borrow her access card because he had “left a file upstairs.”
She had refused.
He had laughed.
“You really don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust anyone who asks me to violate access policy.”
“What if I’m family?”
“Especially then.”
At the time, she had forgotten the interaction almost immediately.
Now it mattered.
Clemente listened without speaking.
“Could he clone it?” Matteo asked.
“Not from that conversation.”
Natalie hesitated.
“But he hugged me at Carlotta’s birthday party two days later.”
Clemente’s expression darkened.
“He could have taken it.”
“My card was in my purse.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
Matteo pulled camera footage.
Carlotta’s party.
Lorenzo embracing Natalie.
Natalie setting her purse near a chair.
Lorenzo disappearing from view for four minutes.
When he returned, he was holding champagne.
No proof.
But opportunity.
Clemente’s anger became almost visible.
“He used you.”
Natalie looked at him.
“No. He underestimated me.”
There was a difference.
The next move came from Carlotta.
She called Clemente the following morning.
“You and Natalie are coming Sunday.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“We’re busy.”
“You announced an engagement in my house. You will now survive brunch.”
“Aunt—”
“And tell Natalie I have your grandmother’s ring.”
Natalie heard the entire conversation on speakerphone.
When Carlotta hung up, she laughed.
Clemente looked wounded.
“This is amusing?”
“Extremely.”
“We’re not going.”
“We are.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Why?”
“Because whoever is leaking information expects us to behave differently now.”
“And?”
“So we behave publicly.”
Clemente stared.
“You want to continue the engagement.”
“For the investigation.”
“Of course.”
Natalie ignored the strange warmth in his voice.
Sunday brunch became their trap.
The Lombardo family gathered at Carlotta’s townhouse.
Natalie arrived beside Clemente.
This time she wore emerald green.
He stared again.
She smiled.
“Statue.”
He recovered.
“I’m improving.”
“Barely.”
Inside, Carlotta immediately dragged Natalie away.
Clemente watched them disappear.
Matteo appeared beside him.
“You’re in trouble.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean emotionally.”
Clemente looked at him.
“Leave.”
“See? Denial.”
Across the room, Natalie sat with Carlotta looking through old jewelry.
The ring was beautiful.
Vintage diamond.
Simple by Lombardo standards.
Carlotta placed it in Natalie’s palm.
“This belonged to Clemente’s grandmother.”
Natalie’s smile faded.
“I can’t wear this.”
“Why?”
Because the engagement was fake.
Because putting on family jewelry would cross a line.
Because Natalie had begun forgetting which moments were part of the performance.
“I would be afraid to lose it.”
Carlotta studied her.
“You are not afraid of jewelry.”
Natalie looked up.
The older woman lowered her voice.
“My nephew is not easy.”
“That is an understatement.”
“He was raised by men who taught him control before kindness.”
Natalie said nothing.
Carlotta continued.
“But when he cares, he becomes foolish.”
Natalie almost smiled.
“He is rarely foolish.”
“He called you his fiancée in front of Anthony DeLuca.”
Point made.
Across the room, Lorenzo appeared.
He greeted Clemente.
Then Natalie.
His smile was easy.
“Still adjusting to the promotion?”
Natalie returned the smile.
“From secretary to fiancée?”
“Impressive career path.”
The joke sounded harmless.
But Natalie watched his eyes.
They flicked toward the ring in Carlotta’s hand.
Then toward Clemente.
Measuring.
Always measuring.
Natalie decided to take a risk.
She slipped the ring onto her finger.
Clemente saw it.
For a moment, every controlled defense disappeared from his face.
Natalie’s breath caught.
Then Lorenzo spoke.
“Beautiful.”
She turned.
“Thank you.”
He lifted a drink.
“Must make the Bellandi people nervous.”
Clemente froze.
Natalie did not.
“How so?”
Lorenzo smiled.
“New fiancée. New family priorities.”
Natalie tilted her head.
“Bellandi?”
His smile weakened by half a degree.
“You know. The acquisition.”
“Interesting.”
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Natalie smiled.
“We’ve never publicly called it an acquisition.”
Silence.
Clemente stood across the room watching.
Lorenzo recovered.
“Adrien mentioned it.”
“At dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after he spoke to Clemente?”
Lorenzo paused.
Too long.
Natalie knew.
Clemente knew.
Lorenzo knew they knew.
Then the front windows exploded.
Not from bullets.
From a heavy object thrown through the glass.
Family members shouted.
Security surged forward.
Natalie ducked instinctively.
Clemente reached her in seconds.
The object landed on the rug.
A brick.
Wrapped around it was another piece of Lombardo stationery.
Matteo removed the note.
His face changed.
Clemente took it.
End the engagement, or the next message reaches her apartment.
The entire room went silent.
Clemente looked at Lorenzo.
Lorenzo had gone pale.
Too pale.
Natalie saw it.
Not guilt.
Fear.
She walked toward him.
“You didn’t send that.”
Lorenzo swallowed.
“No.”
“Then who did?”
He looked toward Clemente.
Nobody moved.
Lorenzo whispered.
“I only sold the documents.”
Clemente’s face went cold.
Natalie stepped closer.
“To whom?”
Lorenzo shook his head.
“I never met him.”
“Who?”
“I used an intermediary.”
“What intermediary?”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
Then gave the answer that changed everything.
“Adrien Viscari.”
---