CHAP 3 — THE UNCLE
Marco Marchetti arrived for breakfast at eight the next morning.
He was sixty-three, silver-haired, elegantly dressed, and carried the relaxed confidence of a man who had entered Enzo’s home without permission for most of Enzo’s life.
He kissed Sofia on the cheek.
Complimented the coffee.
Asked why half the city was claiming the engagement had ended.
Then he noticed Adeline.
Recognition crossed his face so quickly that another person might have missed it.
Enzo did not.
“You know Miss Croft?”
Marco smiled.
“No.”
Adeline watched him carefully.
“You looked like you did.”
“I look at everyone that way before coffee.”
Enzo placed the forged trust agreement on the table.
Marco’s smile disappeared.
“What is this?”
“You tell me.”
Marco read the document.
His eyes stopped at his own signature.
“That isn’t mine.”
Sofia spoke.
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“You testified to the signature before a notary named Helen Ward.”
“I have never met Helen Ward.”
Sofia opened a folder.
“Helen Ward died four years ago.”
Marco looked up.
“Convenient.”
Enzo continued watching him.
“Conrad Pike tried to drug me last night.”
Marco’s reaction seemed genuine.
“What?”
“Digitalis.”
Marco’s face darkened.
“Where is Pike?”
“Gone.”
“Then find him.”
“I’m trying.”
Marco glanced toward Adeline.
“And what does she have to do with this?”
Enzo handed him the old photograph.
Marco stared at Lucia Croft’s face.
Something shifted.
This time, he could not hide it.
“You knew her,” Adeline said.
Marco slowly lowered the photograph.
“Yes.”
Enzo’s voice became quiet.
“You just said you didn’t.”
“I said I didn’t know her daughter.”
Adeline stood.
“What happened to my mother?”
Marco’s expression softened.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie.”
“No.”
“She worked for Carlo.”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
“Accounting.”
“For which companies?”
“Several.”
“Did she discover something?”
Marco looked toward Enzo.
“That is not a conversation we should have here.”
Enzo’s eyes hardened.
“This is my house.”
“That is exactly why.”
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Marco walked to the windows.
“Your father was laundering money for people he should never have trusted.”
Adeline stared.
Enzo remained expressionless.
Marco continued.
“Politicians. Contractors. Hospital administrators. People who wanted money moved without questions.”
“Who?”
“The Ashfords were involved.”
Sofia leaned forward.
“How deeply?”
“Deeply enough.”
Enzo’s voice was colder now.
“And Lucia?”
“She found irregular transfers.”
“Then she died.”
Marco turned.
“I told Carlo to protect her.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
The word hung there.
“Why not?”
“Because your father believed his name could frighten anyone.”
Marco gave a bitter smile.
“Eventually, every powerful man meets someone who is not frightened.”
Adeline’s voice trembled with contained anger.
“Who killed her?”
“I never knew.”
She stepped closer.
“But you suspected.”
Marco looked at her.
“Alden Ashford.”
Camilla’s father.
The room went silent.
Adeline shook her head.
“You had twenty-one years to say that.”
“To whom? The police? Half the men taking Ashford’s money wore badges.”
“Then you should have told me.”
“You were nine.”
“And later?”
Marco said nothing.
Adeline’s face hardened.
“Exactly.”
She walked out.
Enzo did not stop her.
Marco looked toward him.
“That girl is dangerous.”
“To whom?”
“To herself.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Marco sighed.
“Enzo, there are things about your father you have spent your entire life refusing to see.”
“And there are things about you I’m beginning to see very clearly.”
Marco’s expression tightened.
“If you think I forged that document—”
“I think someone wants me incapacitated. I think the woman I nearly married would have gained control of my companies. I think her father’s security man carried the drug. And I think your name appears under a signature I didn’t write.”
Enzo leaned closer.
“So give me a reason not to suspect you.”
Marco looked into his nephew’s eyes.
Then he said something Enzo did not expect.
“Because if I wanted you dead, you would have been buried seven years ago.”
Nobody spoke.
Marco straightened his jacket.
“Ask Sofia who called the ambulance the night your father died.”
Enzo looked at her.
Sofia frowned.
“I don’t know.”
Marco smiled without warmth.
“I did.”
He walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he looked back.
“And if you really want to understand Lucia Croft, stop looking at the night she died.”
“What should I look at?”
“The week before.”
Marco opened the door.
“Specifically, the hospital.”
Then he left.
Sofia immediately opened her laptop.
“What hospital?”
Adeline had returned unnoticed.
She was standing in the doorway.
Marco saw her.
Neither spoke.
Finally Adeline said:
“My mother didn’t go to a hospital that week.”
Marco stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because she wasn’t sick.”
May you like
His expression changed.
“I didn’t say she was the patient.”
