Chapter 3 - The Missing Page
Marco did not attack.
He did something worse.
He smiled.
“You really think I sabotaged your vehicle?”
Vincent studied him.
“I think you know more than you should.”
Marco moved toward the window.
“You were bleeding out on Hudson Parkway. Who held pressure on your neck until paramedics arrived?”
“You.”
“Who stayed at the hospital?”
“You.”
“Who kept your captains from taking your territory?”
“You.”
Marco turned.
“And now a maid’s child says something, and suddenly I’m your enemy?”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Noah didn’t erase a page.”
Marco said nothing.
Vincent lifted the file.
“This page listed access to the garage the night of the crash.”
“You remember that after three years?”
“I remember everything about that night.”
“Then you remember I wasn’t there.”
Vincent pulled out a photograph.
A blurry figure stood beside the SUV.
“You recognize the watch?”
Marco’s eyes dropped to the image.
Only for a second.
But Vincent saw it.
Marco looked back up.
“Half the men in Manhattan own watches.”
“Not that one.”
Vincent pointed.
“My father gave us matching watches when we were twenty-one.”
Marco’s expression tightened.
Vincent reached inside his jacket.
He removed his own watch.
Identical.
Marco looked toward the office door.
“You don’t have enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“To prove anything.”
Vincent smiled faintly.
“That sounded like a lawyer.”
Marco laughed without humor.
“You taught me to survive.”
“No. I taught you loyalty.”
“You taught me power.”
The words landed heavily.
Vincent stared at him.
Marco stepped closer.
“For years, I handled everything while you sat upstairs staring out a window.”
“And you enjoyed it.”
“I protected what was ours.”
“Mine.”
Marco’s face changed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That word.”
Vincent said nothing.
“Mine.”
Marco stepped closer.
“The businesses. The houses. The money. The men. Everything was always yours.”
“You were my brother.”
“No.”
Marco’s voice hardened.
“I was the man standing beside your throne.”
Vincent’s eyes became colder.
“And you wanted it.”
Marco didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
A knock came from outside.
“Mr. Moretti?”
The security chief.
Vincent pressed the unlock button.
The door opened.
“We checked the east hall,” the chief said. “Marco’s car is still outside.”
Marco looked annoyed.
Vincent nodded.
“Search him.”
The security chief hesitated.
Marco laughed.
“You serious?”
Vincent didn’t blink.
Two guards approached.
Marco slowly raised his hands.
They searched his jacket.
Pockets.
Waist.
Nothing.
Then one guard found a brass key.
Vincent looked at it.
“What does that open?”
Marco said nothing.
The security chief examined it.
“Old cellar key.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
The estate cellar hadn’t been used in years.
“Take him downstairs.”
Marco smiled again.
“You won’t find what you want.”
Vincent replied.
“I’m starting to think I already did.”
Minutes later, they reached the old cellar.
Dust covered the floor.
Wine racks lined the walls.
The brass key opened a storage cabinet.
Inside was a metal lockbox.
Vincent stared at it.
Marco looked away.
The security chief opened the box.
Inside were copies of payment records.
Burner phones.
A photograph of Vincent’s SUV.
And a missing page.
Page nineteen.
Vincent read it.
Garage access log.
11:42 p.m.—Marco DeLuca.
11:51 p.m.—unknown contractor.
12:09 a.m.—vehicle moved.
Vincent looked at Marco.
“You were there.”
Marco’s voice stayed calm.
“That proves I entered the garage.”
“Why?”
“Business.”
“At midnight?”
“Yes.”
Vincent held up the paper.
“You deleted this page.”
“No.”
“Then why is it in your lockbox?”
Marco had no answer.
The security chief reached deeper inside.
“There’s one more thing.”
He removed a tiny plastic casing.
Vincent recognized it instantly.
The recorder from under his wheelchair.
But the memory card was gone.
Marco finally smiled.
Vincent looked at him.
“Where is the card?”
Marco said nothing.
Then Vincent suddenly remembered Noah.
The fire truck.
The boy had been playing near the piano room the day before.
If Marco had removed the recorder and someone approached unexpectedly...
He might have hidden something quickly.
Vincent turned.
“Bring me Noah’s red fire truck.”
Marco’s face changed.
May you like
That was all Vincent needed.
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