Chapter 4 - The Fire Before Dawn
Salvatore did not confront Dante immediately.
Every instinct demanded it.
Carlo stopped him.
“If you walk into that library now, they know we heard everything.”
“They threatened my daughter.”
“They discussed her.”
“I heard the words.”
“So did I.”
Carlo’s voice stayed controlled.
“That recording is now evidence.”
Salvatore looked toward the library door.
“And if they go after her tonight?”
“They won’t get near her.”
Carlo had already doubled security around the Russo property.
Anna had moved Emery into the main house’s reinforced lower level.
Nobody entered without biometric access.
Salvatore hated relying on walls.
But he also understood something else.
Francesca and Dante believed they were still ahead.
That advantage mattered.
Salvatore returned to the ballroom.
He spoke to guests.
He smiled when necessary.
He even raised a glass during Francesca’s charity announcement.
Dante eventually emerged from the library.
His expression was perfectly relaxed.
Salvatore watched him from across the room.
For twenty years, Dante had been treated like a second son by Francesca.
He was Salvatore’s cousin.
His father had died when Dante was young.
Francesca practically raised him.
Salvatore had always assumed her preference for Dante was emotional.
Now he wondered how long the alliance had really existed.
Near midnight, Francesca approached him.
“You seem calmer.”
“I am.”
“Perhaps we can finally behave like family.”
Salvatore looked at her.
“You first.”
She smiled tightly.
“You cannot punish me forever for one emotional moment.”
“You mean pushing Emery?”
“She was not injured.”
“Her horse broke.”
“A toy.”
“My father made it.”
Francesca looked irritated.
“Vittorio carved pieces of wood constantly.”
Salvatore’s anger flashed.
She had never respected his father’s quiet habits.
She respected his fortune.
His surname.
His power.
But never the man.
Salvatore finally understood why Vittorio had hidden his final plans even from his wife.
Francesca touched Salvatore’s arm.
“Come home tomorrow.”
“No.”
“Bring Emery.”
“No.”
“Salvatore.”
“You lost the right to ask.”
He moved away.
Francesca remained behind him.
Her voice became cold.
“Children can be manipulated against their families.”
Salvatore turned.
“So can mothers.”
They stared at one another.
Neither smiled.
Salvatore left shortly afterward.
Carlo met him outside.
“The recorder is still transmitting.”
“What are they saying?”
“Nothing useful now.”
Salvatore walked toward his car.
“We need to locate Ravenna.”
“Marcello is working on it.”
“My father used city names for locations.”
“Yes.”
“So Ravenna could mean any property Dad controlled.”
“There are dozens.”
“Hundreds.”
Carlo nodded.
“Then we narrow them.”
At 2:13 a.m., Marcello called.
“I found something.”
Salvatore answered immediately.
“What?”
“Your father owned a warehouse through a shell corporation.”
“Where?”
“Rye Harbor.”
“What company?”
“Ravenna Holdings.”
Salvatore closed his eyes.
“That seems subtle.”
“Vittorio did not expect Francesca to know the code.”
“But she does.”
“Yes.”
Salvatore turned the SUV around.
Carlo grabbed his phone from the passenger seat.
“Tell me you’re not driving there.”
“Already am.”
“Salvatore.”
“Send your people.”
“Do not enter until we arrive.”
Salvatore ended the call.
Rye Harbor was twenty-three minutes away.
He made it in seventeen.
Smoke was visible before he reached the property.
His stomach dropped.
An orange glow illuminated the industrial shoreline.
Fire trucks were approaching from the opposite direction.
Salvatore accelerated.
The warehouse stood at the end of a narrow private road.
Flames were already tearing through the western section.
Salvatore stopped outside the gate.
The security chain had been cut.
Carlo arrived minutes later.
He jumped from his truck.
“I specifically said not to enter.”
“I didn’t.”
“Miracles happen.”
Marcello arrived behind him.
His face collapsed when he saw the flames.
“We’re too late.”
Salvatore shook his head.
“No.”
Firefighters rushed past them.
Carlo identified himself as former federal law enforcement and spoke with the incident commander.
Nobody was allowed inside.
The roof began collapsing.
Salvatore watched years of his father’s secrets disappear into flames.
Francesca and Dante had moved faster than he expected.
Marcello stood beside him.
“Vittorio anticipated many things.”
“Apparently not arson.”
Marcello’s face tightened.
“Maybe he did.”
Salvatore looked at him.
Marcello pulled the handwritten note from his coat.
“When the house turns against her, open Ravenna.”
“Yes.”
“He did not say go to Ravenna.”
Salvatore frowned.
Marcello continued.
“He said open Ravenna.”
Carlo heard them.
“What’s the distinction?”
Marcello looked toward the burning warehouse.
“Maybe this is not Ravenna.”
Salvatore stared at him.
“You just said the corporation was Ravenna Holdings.”
“Yes.”
“Then what is it?”
Marcello looked toward the sign near the gate.
The company logo showed a key inside a circle.
Marcello walked toward it.
He brushed snow away.
Under the modern sign was an older metal plate.
It contained four numbers.
417.
Salvatore recognized them immediately.
“April seventeenth.”
Carlo looked at him.
“What happened then?”
“My father’s birthday.”
Marcello shook his head.
“No.”
Salvatore frowned.
“Dad was born April seventeenth.”
“Officially.”
Salvatore stared at him.
Marcello whispered.
“Alessandro was born April seventeenth.”
Salvatore understood.
“Dad used his brother’s birthday.”
Marcello nodded.
“Maybe as a code.”
Carlo pulled out his phone.
“Four digits are not much.”
Salvatore walked around the perimeter fence.
Near the far corner stood a smaller concrete structure untouched by flames.
It resembled an electrical substation.
No smoke emerged.
Salvatore pointed.
“What is that?”
Marcello frowned.
“I don’t remember it.”
They moved closer.
Firefighters were occupied with the primary warehouse.
Carlo examined the concrete structure.
“No windows.”
“There’s a door.”
The steel door contained no normal handle.
Only a circular recess.
Salvatore’s heart began beating faster.
The recess was shaped like the signet ring.
Marcello breathed.
“That is Ravenna.”
Salvatore looked toward him.
“And the pendant?”
Marcello pointed lower.
A second geometric keyhole sat beneath the circular recess.
Salvatore stared.
The warehouse was a decoy.
The real vault had been built separately.
The fire could destroy the building around it without touching whatever Vittorio hid inside.
“Dad did anticipate arson.”
Marcello almost smiled.
Carlo examined the door.
“We still need Francesca’s key.”
Salvatore looked at the flames.
“Then we get it.”
A firefighter approached.
“Gentlemen, you need to move farther back.”
They obeyed.
An hour later, investigators discovered accelerant near the rear entrance.
The fire was officially suspicious.
Salvatore asked Carlo to contact the state fire marshal directly.
By dawn, the flames were under control.
The concrete vault remained untouched.
Salvatore photographed everything.
Then his phone rang.
Anna.
He answered immediately.
“What happened?”
Her voice sounded wrong.
“Salvatore, Emery is safe.”
His chest tightened.
“Why did you start with that?”
“Because someone tried to get through the gate.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Who?”
“A woman.”
Salvatore frowned.
“Who?”
“She said she was Emery’s biological aunt.”
Salvatore looked toward Marcello.
“What name?”
Anna hesitated.
“Isabella Marin.”
Marcello heard.
His face drained of color.
Salvatore noticed.
“You know her.”
Marcello whispered.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because Isabella Marin died eight years ago.”
Salvatore’s skin went cold.
He spoke into the phone.
“Where is the woman now?”
“She left after Carlo’s people refused entry.”
“Did you get a plate?”
“Yes.”
“Send it.”
Salvatore ended the call.
Carlo was already contacting his security team.
Marcello looked genuinely frightened.
Salvatore stepped toward him.
“Who was Isabella?”
“Sofia Marin’s older sister.”
“Emery’s biological aunt.”
“Yes.”
“And she died?”
“In a house fire.”
The irony was not lost on anyone.
Salvatore spoke slowly.
“Was the body identified?”
Marcello hesitated.
“Dental records.”
“Who handled the identification?”
“I don’t know.”
Salvatore stared at him.
“Find out.”
His phone vibrated.
Anna had sent a security-camera image.
A woman stood outside the Russo gate.
She appeared approximately thirty-five.
Dark hair.
Dark coat.
The image was clear.
Marcello looked at it.
His hands began shaking.
“That’s her.”
“You’re sure?”
“I met Isabella twice.”
“When?”
“When Vittorio first traced Alessandro’s descendants.”
Salvatore looked at the image again.
“If she’s alive, why has nobody heard from her?”
Marcello did not answer.
Then another message arrived.
The woman had left something at the gate.
Carlo’s team had photographed it before touching it.
It was an envelope.
On the front, handwritten in black ink, were six words.
May you like
FOR SALVATORE — FRANCESCA KILLED MY SISTER.
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