Chapter 5 - The King of New York Was Wrong
By sunrise, Alessandro had a plan.
I hated it immediately.
"No."
He stood in Joseph's kitchen drinking coffee.
"You haven't heard it."
"You said the words 'use you as bait.' I've heard enough."
"Technically, I said Carbone already sees you as bait."
"That is not better."
My father agreed.
"She's not involved."
I slammed my cup down.
"I have been involved since I was twelve."
"Camila—"
"No. You don't disappear for eighteen years and come back with parental authority."
That ended the argument.
Alessandro hid a smile.
I pointed at him.
"Don't."
His smile vanished.
We went to Grand Central without my father.
Alessandro and I entered the storage facility while his security waited at a distance.
The brass key opened box 417.
Inside were ledgers.
Photographs.
Bank documents.
And a cassette tape.
Alessandro stared at it.
"That's inconveniently ancient."
"My father likes drama."
"I've noticed."
There was also an envelope.
On the front:
ANTONIO MORETTI
Alessandro stopped breathing for a moment.
"Your father never received it," I said.
"No."
"Open it."
He did.
Inside was a handwritten letter from my father warning Antonio that Vincent Carbone had falsified shipping records.
Attached were transaction numbers.
Names.
Dates.
Enough to establish that Matteo had been trying to expose the betrayal, not participate in it.
Alessandro sat down.
"My father was wrong."
It was the first time I'd heard him sound vulnerable.
"He spent his final years believing Matteo betrayed him."
"My father spent eighteen years believing your family wanted him dead."
Alessandro looked at me.
"Two stubborn men destroyed eighteen years because neither knew the whole truth."
"Sounds familiar."
His eyes narrowed.
"Meaning?"
"Nothing."
"Camila."
I smiled slightly.
Then we found the photograph.
Antonio Moretti stood beside Vincent Carbone and another man.
Joseph Keller.
I stared.
"No."
Alessandro took the picture.
His face changed.
"Joseph."
"It can't be."
"Look at the date."
The photograph had been taken two days before my father disappeared.
I called Matteo.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
"Alessandro."
He was already dialing his security.
"Get to Keller's apartment."
His man answered.
Then Alessandro's expression darkened.
"What do you mean he's gone?"
I grabbed his arm.
"My father?"
Alessandro listened.
"Both of them?"
He ended the call.
I felt sick.
"Tell me."
"Joseph and Matteo left ten minutes ago."
"Together?"
"Yes."
My phone buzzed.
A message from Joseph.
Vetro Nero. Noon. Bring the ledger. Come alone if you want answers.
I showed Alessandro.
He read it twice.
"Absolutely not."
"You made me your bait."
"I changed my mind."
"Why?"
His gaze met mine.
"Because this stopped being a game."
"It was never a game to me."
"I know."
That answer was quieter.
I studied him.
"The King of New York admits he was wrong?"
"Don't tell anyone."
"Could ruin your reputation."
"Completely."
I almost smiled.
Then I looked at Joseph's message again.
"He's been beside us all night."
"Yes."
"He knew my father."
"Yes."
"And he knew exactly what that technique sounded like."
Alessandro nodded.
"He recognized it before I did."
I remembered Joseph's face at the piano.
The way his eyes sharpened.
The way he'd insisted on staying.
Suddenly everything looked different.
"Why would he help Carbone?"
"Maybe he didn't."
"Then why take my father?"
Alessandro looked toward the station exit.
"There's only one way to find out."
I raised an eyebrow.
"You just said absolutely not."
"I said you weren't going alone."
"You planning another proposal?"
He stared at me.
"You're enjoying this."
"A little."
"Finish the aria first."
"Maybe I will."
His expression softened.
"Camila."
"What?"
"When this is over, you're going back to music."
I laughed.
"You don't get to decide my life."
"No."
He held my gaze.
"But somebody should remind you that you can."
May you like
For once, I had no answer.
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