Chapter 1 - THE THING INSIDE THE SEAM
The black USB drive lay between the shattered champagne glasses like something that had been waiting twelve years to breathe.
Nobody moved.
Not Nico.
Not Vivia.
Not Rafe.
Not even Marcella.
A thin piece of clear plastic still clung to the drive where it had been wrapped and sewn into the hidden inner seam of the old wedding dress.
Beside it rested the folded note.
Nico stared at both objects.
A few seconds earlier, the ballroom had been filled with music, laughter, silverware, and the low hum of two hundred wedding guests.
Now the only sound was champagne dripping from the edge of the damaged table.
Marcella was half-sprawled against the white linen.
One side of her face was already turning red from Nico’s slap.
Yet the pain seemed to mean nothing to her.
Her eyes stayed locked on the USB drive.
Then she lunged.
Rafe stepped in front of her before her hand reached the marble.
“Don’t.”
Marcella stopped.
Rafe was not a large man.
He had never needed to be.
For almost fifteen years, he had served as the Bellandi family’s head of security, fixer, driver, investigator, and, when necessary, the man who stood between the family and whatever problem money could not make disappear.
Marcella had ordered him around since Nico was in college.
She was accustomed to obedience.
That was why the look she gave him now was more stunned than angry.
“Move.”
Rafe did not.
“Nico,” Marcella whispered.
Her voice sounded completely different now.
The arrogance was gone.
The sharpness was gone.
For the first time in Vivia’s life, Marcella Bellandi sounded afraid.
“Burn it.”
Nico bent down.
Marcella took a step toward him.
Rafe shifted again.
Nico picked up the USB.
He looked at the plastic wrapping.
Then he looked at the torn seam in the dress.
Finally, he looked at Vivia.
His younger sister was still on the floor.
Her cheek was bright red.
A thin line of blood marked the inside of her lower lip.
She held their mother’s dress against her body as if someone might tear it from her again.
Nico crouched beside her.
“Did you know this was inside?”
Vivia shook her head.
“No.”
Marcella laughed once.
It was forced.
“Of course she knew.”
Vivia looked up.
“I didn’t.”
“She brought it here.”
“Because it was Mom’s.”
“She came here carrying a dress that should have been thrown away years ago.”
“It was the only thing of hers you hadn’t managed to get rid of.”
The words hit harder than shouting would have.
Marcella’s mouth tightened.
Nico slowly stood.
His bride, Alessia Romano Bellandi, had been standing near the ruined wedding table through the entire confrontation.
Her white gown was untouched.
Her face was not.
The joy that had filled it twenty minutes earlier had disappeared.
She moved toward Vivia and offered her a hand.
Vivia accepted it.
Alessia pulled her upright.
Then Alessia positioned herself beside her new sister-in-law.
It was a small gesture.
Marcella noticed it.
“So this is what you want?” Marcella asked.
Nobody answered.
Marcella looked around at the guests.
“You’re going to ruin Nico’s wedding because Vivia dragged some filthy old dress into the ballroom?”
Vivia flinched.
Nico did not.
He unfolded the note.
Marcella moved.
Rafe caught her wrist.
“Let go of me.”
“Stop reaching for things that aren’t yours.”
“You work for this family.”
Rafe’s gaze hardened.
“I work for Nico.”
That silenced her.
Nico opened the folded paper.
The handwriting appeared immediately.
His breathing stopped.
He knew those letters.
So did Vivia.
Their mother had always written the capital N in Nico’s name with a long lower curve.
Her lowercase V leaned slightly backward.
Her handwriting had been elegant without being delicate.
Nico had not seen it in twelve years.
Yet he recognized it instantly.
Vivia stepped closer.
“What does it say?”
Nico read the first line silently.
His expression changed.
Alessia touched his arm.
“Nico?”
He looked at Marcella.
Then he read aloud.
“If you are holding this, then Marcella finally found the dress.”
A sound rippled through the nearest tables.
Marcella’s face lost another shade of color.
Nico continued.
“If she found it, do not let her convince you that I was confused.”
Vivia covered her mouth.
Their mother’s name had been Elena Bellandi.
For twelve years, the family explanation for everything Elena had done during the final months of her life had been the same.
She had been confused.
She had been paranoid.
She had been emotionally unstable.
She had been grieving her father.
She had imagined enemies.
She had accused innocent people.
She had become obsessed with money disappearing from the Bellandi family company.
Three weeks later, her car had gone through a guardrail on a rain-soaked road in Connecticut.
Police called it an accident.
Marcella called it a tragedy.
Nico had been twenty-five.
Vivia had been sixteen.
Their father, Vincent Bellandi, married Marcella eleven months later.
Vivia had never forgiven him.
Nico had tried.
Neither of them had ever understood why Elena had been so terrified during the final weeks of her life.
Nico looked back at the note.
“Do not give the drive to the police until you have listened to File Seven.”
Marcella suddenly shouted.
“That is enough.”
Every head in the ballroom turned toward her.
Nico continued.
“Do not give it to the company lawyer.”
Marcella took another step.
Rafe blocked her again.
Nico’s voice grew quieter.
“And Nico…”
He stopped.
Vivia reached for his sleeve.
“What?”
Nico swallowed.
The next sentence was only six words.
His mother had underlined it twice.
“Do not trust Rafe with it.”
Silence hit the ballroom.
Rafe’s face did not change.
Vivia slowly looked toward him.
So did Alessia.
Then nearly every guest within hearing distance followed.
Marcella stared at Rafe.
For one strange second, something almost like satisfaction entered her expression.
“There.”
She pointed at him.
“Your dead mother just told you exactly who betrayed her.”
Rafe did not defend himself.
Nico folded the note.
His gaze stayed fixed on the man who had protected him for half his adult life.
Rafe had helped him bury his father.
Rafe had stood outside Vivia’s apartment when a stalker had followed her home from college.
Rafe had carried Nico out of a wrecked Ferrari when Nico was twenty-eight.
Rafe had been the first person Nico called after Alessia said yes.
Now Elena’s final hidden message told Nico not to trust him.
Nico held out his hand.
“Your gun.”
Several guests gasped.
Rafe looked at him.
“Nico.”
“Give it to me.”
Rafe slowly reached beneath his jacket.
He removed his holstered pistol without touching the grip.
He placed it on the table.
Then he removed a second weapon from an ankle holster.
That one went beside it.
Nico looked at two members of the hotel security staff.
“Take him to my father’s old study.”
Rafe did not resist.
Marcella smiled.
It was small.
But Vivia saw it.
And suddenly Vivia understood something.
Marcella had been terrified when the USB appeared.
She had been even more terrified when Nico opened the note.
Yet the moment Elena’s warning mentioned Rafe, Marcella had relaxed.
Vivia grabbed Nico’s arm.
“Wait.”
Nico turned.
“She wanted you to read that.”
“What?”
Vivia pointed toward Marcella.
“She wanted you to turn against Rafe.”
Marcella’s expression hardened.
Vivia stepped closer to her brother.
“Mom hid the note with the USB.”
“Yes.”
“She knew Marcella might find both.”
Nico stared at her.
Vivia’s breathing quickened.
“What if ‘don’t trust Rafe with it’ doesn’t mean Rafe betrayed her?”
Marcella interrupted.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
Vivia ignored her.
“What if Mom meant don’t hand him the original because someone would expect him to have it?”
Rafe looked at Vivia for the first time.
There was something in his expression she could not read.
Nico saw it too.
“What do you know?” Nico asked.
Rafe remained silent.
“Rafe.”
Marcella spoke before he could.
“He knows exactly what happened to your mother.”
The room seemed to contract.
Nico turned toward her.
Marcella smiled again.
This time there was no satisfaction in it.
Only desperation.
“Ask him where he was the night Elena died.”
Nico looked at Rafe.
Rafe lowered his eyes.
Vivia felt cold.
“Where were you?”
Rafe said nothing.
Nico took one step closer.
“You told us you were in Manhattan.”
Rafe looked up.
“I lied.”
Vivia’s fingers tightened around the old dress.
Nico’s face became perfectly still.
“Where were you?”
Rafe looked at the USB in Nico’s hand.
Then at Marcella.
Finally, he answered.
“I was following your mother.”
Vivia stopped breathing.
Nico stared at him.
“Why?”
Rafe’s jaw tightened.
“Because she asked me to.”
Marcella’s smile vanished.
Rafe continued.
“And because three hours before your mother’s car went over that guardrail…”
He paused.
May you like
“…she called me and told me someone inside your family was going to kill her.”
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