Chapter 4 - Dinner With a Traitor
We returned to Bellafonte.
Martin stood in his office beside a metal trash bin filled with half-burned papers.
Two Moretti men blocked the doorway.
Martin glared at me.
“This is because of you.”
I stared at him.
“You broke into my apartment?”
“I didn't touch your apartment.”
Dominic entered behind me.
“But you knew about it.”
Martin said nothing.
Salvatore stepped inside.
“Your father was Victor Galloway.”
Martin's face tightened.
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“You destroyed him.”
Salvatore's voice remained calm.
“Your father stole from people who trusted him.”
“He built your empire.”
“He betrayed it.”
Martin pointed toward me.
“And now she walks into my restaurant speaking that dead woman's language and suddenly I'm supposed to believe this is coincidence?”
“My restaurant?” Dominic repeated.
Martin froze.
Dominic looked around.
“You manage Bellafonte.”
Martin's confidence cracked.
“I've given twelve years to this place.”
“And apparently confused employment with ownership.”
I stepped closer to the burned papers.
One fragment showed a series of numbers.
Invoices.
Supplier payments.
I recognized several company names.
“These aren't restaurant expenses.”
Dominic looked at me.
“How do you know?”
“Because Bellafonte doesn't buy seafood from a construction company.”
Martin's face drained.
I picked up another page.
“And we definitely don't spend eighty thousand dollars a month on linen.”
Dominic's eyes moved to Martin.
“How much?”
Martin remained silent.
Salvatore sat calmly in the chair opposite the desk.
“Your father stole badly.”
He pointed toward the papers.
“You steal stupidly.”
Martin exploded.
“You think this is about money?”
“No,” Salvatore said.
“I think money is how weak men measure revenge.”
Martin looked at me.
“She was never supposed to come into that dining room.”
The sentence changed everything.
Dominic stepped forward.
“What does that mean?”
Martin realized his mistake.
“Nothing.”
I stared at him.
“You deliberately kept me away from Salvatore.”
Martin's silence answered.
Dominic's voice lowered.
“How did you know she spoke Sicilian?”
Martin said nothing.
I suddenly remembered.
“My application.”
Martin looked at me.
I continued.
“Three years ago, when I applied to Bellafonte, there was a language section.”
Dominic understood.
“You listed Sicilian.”
“Yes.”
Martin backed toward the desk.
Dominic blocked him.
“You knew exactly who she was.”
Martin finally broke.
“My father kept records about Agatha Romano.”
Salvatore's eyes narrowed.
“What records?”
“Enough to know she raised a girl in Bensonhurst.”
“Why care about Penelope?”
“Because Agatha had evidence.”
“The box?”
Martin laughed bitterly.
“You think the box matters?”
I looked at Dominic.
“What does he mean?”
Martin pointed toward my neck.
“Ask her about the pendant.”
My hand instinctively touched Agatha's silver necklace.
Dominic noticed.
“The pendant?”
Martin smiled.
“Open it.”
I removed it.
There was a tiny seam along the side I'd never noticed.
Dominic used the edge of a letter opener.
Click.
The pendant opened.
Inside was a miniature key.
Salvatore stood.
For the first time all night, he looked genuinely shocked.
“Madonna.”
“What does it open?” I asked.
Salvatore looked at me.
“Agatha's safe-deposit box.”
Martin lunged.
Dominic moved instantly, catching him before he reached me.
His men stepped forward.
Dominic didn't hit Martin.
He simply held him against the desk.
“You made one mistake,” Dominic said.
Martin struggled.
“What?”
“You looked at the key before you looked at her.”
Dominic released him to his men.
“Get him out.”
Martin shouted as they escorted him away.
“You don't understand what's in that box!”
Salvatore watched him disappear.
Then he turned to me.
“Unfortunately, I think I do.”
“What?”
“Proof.”
“Of what?”
Salvatore looked at Dominic.
“That Victor Galloway wasn't working alone.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“Who was?”
Salvatore answered quietly.
May you like
“Someone in this family.”
---
