Chapter 4 - THE MAN WHO RAN
Darkness swallowed the corridor.
Emma screamed.
Sophia pulled her daughter against her chest.
Antonio switched on a flashlight.
Lorenzo heard footsteps above them.
Fast.
Running.
“Stay here.”
He took the stairs two at a time.
Antonio followed.
They burst into the laundry room just as the outer door slammed.
Lorenzo crossed the kitchen.
A waiter pointed toward the courtyard.
“He went that way.”
Outside, rain had finally started.
A man in a catering uniform sprinted across the stone terrace.
Antonio shouted.
The runner glanced back.
Lorenzo recognized him.
Paolo Ferrante.
One of Marco's drivers.
Paolo jumped a hedge.
Antonio's men closed in from both sides.
He never reached the wall.
Two guards tackled him onto the wet grass.
Lorenzo approached slowly.
Paolo looked up.
Panic filled his face.
“Boss.”
“Why were you in my basement?”
“I got lost.”
Lorenzo looked around at the mansion behind them.
“You've worked here six years.”
Paolo said nothing.
“Who sent you?”
“No one.”
Antonio searched him.
He removed a phone.
A folding knife.
And a tiny digital recorder.
Lorenzo's eyes rested on the recorder.
Paolo closed his eyes.
That was answer enough.
Inside Lorenzo's private office, the memorial continued without him.
Guests were quietly informed there was a security issue.
No one dared complain.
Paolo sat in a chair across from Lorenzo.
His hands were zip-tied.
The recorder rested between them.
“Who were you recording for?”
Paolo stared at the carpet.
Lorenzo did not threaten him.
He simply waited.
Silence was always more effective.
After four minutes, Paolo cracked.
“I never knew his name.”
Lorenzo almost smiled.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“He contacted me through messages.”
“Who recommended you for this job?”
Paolo's face changed.
Lorenzo leaned forward.
“Answer.”
“Mr. Bellini.”
Marco.
Lorenzo sat back.
Antonio's jaw tightened.
Paolo rushed on.
“That doesn't mean anything.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
“Because the messages told me to watch Sophia.”
“For how long?”
“Eight months.”
Lorenzo's blood went cold.
“What were you supposed to report?”
“Anyone she contacted.”
“Anything else?”
Paolo hesitated.
“Anything Emma said about a baby.”
Sophia covered her mouth from the doorway.
Lorenzo looked at Paolo.
“You've known this entire time.”
“No.”
“I knew there was something.”
“Please.”
“My wife is pregnant.”
“I only needed the money.”
Lorenzo's expression didn't change.
Paolo lowered his voice.
“They said the baby was dangerous.”
Lorenzo stood.
Paolo flinched.
“What number sends the messages?”
“It changes.”
Antonio picked up Paolo's phone.
“There was one tonight.”
Lorenzo turned.
Antonio read the screen.
Three words.
IF SHE SPEAKS, CLEAN.
Sophia pulled Emma closer.
Lorenzo held out his hand.
Antonio gave him the phone.
The message had arrived two minutes after Emma crossed the ballroom.
Someone upstairs had seen her speak.
Someone had sent the order immediately.
Lorenzo looked through the office windows toward the memorial guests.
Three hundred people.
Politicians.
Businessmen.
Soldiers.
Family.
Friends.
Marco stood near Isabella's portrait.
He was speaking calmly to a senator.
Then he looked directly toward Lorenzo's office.
Their eyes met through the glass.
Marco raised his wineglass.
Almost like a toast.
May you like
Lorenzo stared back.
For the first time in twenty-five years, he wondered whether the man he called brother had ever been his brother at all.
