Chapter 2 - The Bracelet in Elena’s Locker
Three days later, Elena arrived at work and found two guards waiting near the staff entrance.
The security chief stepped forward.
“Elena, we need you to open your locker.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Just open it.”
She looked at the guards.
Then turned the key.
Inside was her uniform.
Her purse.
And a black velvet pouch.
Elena frowned.
“That isn’t mine.”
The security chief opened it.
A diamond bracelet fell into his palm.
Elena went pale.
“What is that?”
A voice came from behind them.
“Elena.”
Marco stood in the doorway.
He looked disappointed.
Almost heartbroken.
“I didn’t take it,” Elena said immediately.
Marco stepped inside.
“The bracelet disappeared from an upstairs safe.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“Only six employees had access to that floor.”
“Then check the cameras.”
Marco hesitated.
“The hallway camera malfunctioned.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
Elena stared at him.
“I wasn’t near that room.”
Marco sighed.
“Please don’t make this worse.”
Her fear turned into anger.
“Someone planted it.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Marco spread his hands.
“Exactly.”
Then another voice entered the room.
“I do know one thing.”
Vincent rolled into the doorway.
Everyone went silent.
He held out his hand.
“Give me the bracelet.”
The security chief did.
Vincent examined the clasp.
“When did it disappear?”
“This morning,” Marco said.
“From where?”
“Your mother’s suite.”
Vincent looked up.
“My mother’s safe has been empty for eighteen months.”
Marco blinked.
“What?”
“I moved the jewelry after the insurance audit.”
Silence.
Vincent turned the bracelet over.
A tiny repair mark caught the light.
Then his face changed.
“This belongs to my sister.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
Vincent looked at the security chief.
“Call her.”
Marco stepped forward.
“Vincent, I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
“There is.”
Vincent’s voice dropped.
“I just haven’t heard it yet.”
Small footsteps approached.
Elena turned.
“Noah?”
Her son appeared with his red toy fire truck.
Then he saw the velvet pouch.
“I saw that.”
Everyone froze.
Vincent leaned forward.
“Where?”
Noah pointed toward Marco.
“The smile man had it.”
Marco laughed once.
“Children imagine things.”
Noah frowned.
“No.”
Vincent looked at him.
“What happened?”
“He was in the piano room.”
Marco’s face changed for less than a second.
Vincent saw it.
Noah continued.
“He looked under your chair.”
The room became still.
Marco spoke quickly.
“He’s confused.”
Noah pointed at Vincent’s wheelchair.
“You took the metal thing.”
Vincent slowly reached beneath the right side of his chair.
His fingers found an empty mounting bracket.
He stopped breathing.
Three years earlier, his former security chief had installed a tiny encrypted recorder beneath the chair.
It stored sensitive recordings.
Meeting notes.
Incident files.
Including material related to Vincent’s crash.
Vincent looked at Marco.
“What did you remove?”
Marco shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“You’re accusing me because of a four-year-old?”
“No.”
Vincent’s voice became cold.
“I’m accusing you because you’re scared.”
Marco stared at him.
Vincent turned to the security chief.
“Take Elena and Noah upstairs.”
Elena hesitated.
“Mr. Moretti—”
“Go.”
She picked up Noah.
The guards followed.
Marco remained.
Vincent rolled toward his desk.
He unlocked the bottom drawer and pulled out an old gray file.
HUDSON PARKWAY INCIDENT.
He opened it.
Photographs.
Witness reports.
Vehicle inspections.
Phone records.
Then he stopped.
One page was missing.
Marco watched him.
Vincent’s eyes moved slowly upward.
“There were twenty-seven pages.”
Marco said nothing.
“Now there are twenty-six.”
“You haven’t opened that file in years.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Marco’s face hardened.
Vincent continued.
“Only two people had keys to that drawer.”
Marco looked toward the door.
Vincent understood immediately.
“Don’t.”
Marco turned.
Vincent hit the security button under his desk.
Doors locked throughout the estate.
An alarm sounded once.
Vincent stared at Marco.
“Where is the recorder?”
Marco’s expression changed completely.
The warm friend disappeared.
Something colder took his place.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Vincent replied quietly.
May you like
“I think I made it fifteen years ago.”
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