Chapter 3 - The Box My Dead Husband Left Me
The bank opened at nine.
We arrived at 9:03.
Nicholas stayed in the vehicle.
Being officially dead made banking inconvenient.
Marco came inside with me.
The manager recognized me.
“Mrs. Moretti.”
“Good morning.”
“I’m sorry again about your husband.”
Marco coughed.
I ignored him.
“Thank you.”
Ten minutes later, the box sat on a private viewing table.
I opened it.
Inside were three things.
A flash drive.
A brass key.
And an envelope.
My name was written across the front.
I opened it.
One sentence.
If Nicholas is dead, Victor killed him.
My blood went cold.
Marco read over my shoulder.
“We leave. Now.”
Back inside the vehicle, I handed Nicholas the note.
He read it twice.
“Samuel knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That Victor was moving against me.”
Marco held up the key.
“And this?”
Nicholas examined the number stamped into the brass.
“Storage locker.”
“Where?”
“I know the system.”
He gave Marco an address.
An hour later, we stood inside a private storage facility near Lake Michigan.
Locker 417 contained one metal case.
Inside were financial records.
Photographs.
Names.
Payments.
Enough evidence to show Victor had secretly diverted millions from Moretti businesses while negotiating with rival crews.
Marco whistled.
“He was planning to dismantle the family from inside.”
Nicholas picked up another folder.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He handed it to me.
Inside were surveillance photographs.
Of me.
Leaving work.
Shopping.
Walking into our house.
Dates from before the explosion.
“He was watching me.”
Nicholas’s voice became quiet.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
I understood immediately.
Against Nicholas.
“You knew?”
“No.”
His hands tightened.
“If I had known—”
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Victor wouldn’t have made it to my funeral.”
A phone rang.
Marco answered.
His expression changed.
“It's him.”
Nicholas held out his hand.
Marco gave him the phone.
“Victor.”
A familiar voice filled the speaker.
“Nicholas.”
My heart stopped.
Victor laughed.
“I always said you were difficult to kill.”
Nicholas remained calm.
“You should've tried harder.”
“I did.”
“Not hard enough.”
Victor sighed.
“Is Claire with you?”
Nicholas looked at me.
“No.”
Victor laughed again.
“You were always a terrible liar when it came to your wife.”
I stepped forward.
“Nicholas.”
He shook his head.
I took the phone anyway.
“Victor?”
Silence.
Then his voice softened.
“Claire.”
“You sat beside me at his funeral.”
“I did.”
“You watched me cry.”
“I did that too.”
“Why?”
“Because Nicholas had something I wanted.”
“The family?”
“No.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed.
Victor continued.
“You.”
The room went silent.
Nicholas took the phone.
“If you ever say that again—”
Victor interrupted.
“Bring me Samuel’s files tonight.”
“Where?”
“You know the old Moretti hotel.”
The line disconnected.
Marco looked at Nicholas.
“It’s a trap.”
“Obviously.”
I folded my arms.
“So we don't go.”
Nicholas looked at the files.
“We go.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Claire—”
“No.”
He blinked.
I pointed at him.
“You already made one giant decision without me. You're not doing it again.”
“This isn't a marriage discussion.”
“It became one when your uncle put my photographs in a box.”
Marco suddenly became fascinated by the ceiling.
Nicholas stepped closer.
“What do you suggest?”
I looked at the documents.
Then at him.
“We give Victor exactly what he wants.”
Nicholas frowned.
“The files?”
“No.”
I picked up the flash drive.
May you like
“His dead nephew.”
---
