Chapter 7 - THE MAN WHO KNEW MY FATHER
Liam refused to be moved.
When Marco's security team reached Rachel's apartment, Liam stood in the doorway with his laptop tucked beneath one arm and a kitchen knife in his hand.
“Put it down,” Marco said.
“Tell me who sent you.”
“Alessandro Vitali.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Marco glanced at the knife. “It's the only answer I have time to give you.”
Liam didn't lower it until I called him.
“Liam, it's me. Please.”
He looked toward the phone. “Are you with him?”
“Yes.”
“Are you safe?”
“I think so.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No,” I admitted. “But I need you here.”
He finally lowered the knife.
By the time Liam arrived at Alessandro's residence, the security team had taken over the lobby and closed the private entrance. Liam walked in with his shoulders squared and his expression full of suspicion.
Alessandro met him in the study.
“You're Liam Carter.”
“And you're the man who got her pregnant.”
The room went silent.
I closed my eyes. “Liam.”
Alessandro did not react. “Yes.”
“Then why wasn't she safe when she left your hotel?”
“Because I didn't know who she was or what she was running from.”
“You didn't ask.”
“No. I didn't.”
Liam seemed thrown by the admission. He had expected arrogance. He had prepared for a fight. Alessandro's willingness to accept blame left him nowhere to put his anger.
I stepped between them. “We have bigger problems.”
I showed them the messages and the photograph of Rachel's apartment. Liam told Alessandro about Victor Sloane, the former compliance officer, and the silver key.
Alessandro listened without interrupting.
When Liam finished, he opened a drawer and removed a thin envelope.
“This was delivered to my office six years ago,” he said. “My father took it before I could read it. I found it in his private archive yesterday.”
Inside was a letter written by Daniel Vale.
My father's handwriting.
I knew it instantly.
Mr. Vitali, I have identified a series of transactions that appear to connect Northline Urban Development to a private network that pressures property owners into selling. Some of the payments are being routed through charitable organizations. I have copies of the original records.
The letter continued.
I have reason to believe the activity is being directed by Matteo Vitali. I am not asking you to believe me. I am asking you to look at the documents before someone gets hurt.
At the bottom, my father had written a final line.
If anything happens to my family, the responsibility will not end with the person who orders it.
I pressed the page to my chest.
“He knew,” I whispered.
Alessandro looked sick. “I never saw this.”
“Your father took it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Liam leaned against the desk. “We need to open the bank archive.”
Alessandro nodded. “Tomorrow morning.”
“Why not now?” I asked.
“Because the bank requires a second authorization, and I need to make sure the people handling the vault aren't connected to my father.”
I looked at him. “How can you be sure?”
“I can't. That's why Naomi is coming.”
Naomi arrived an hour later. She read the letter, photographed it, and made arrangements with an independent bank officer to meet us the next morning. She also contacted a prosecutor she trusted and informed him that a potential evidence archive connected to a six-year-old death investigation was about to be opened.
“You're involving the authorities?” I asked.
“Only the people who need to know,” she replied. “If the records establish criminal conduct, we need a lawful way to preserve them.”
Alessandro agreed.
Liam didn't.
“Government investigators can be bought,” he said.
“Some can,” Naomi replied. “That doesn't mean we hand the evidence to nobody.”
I watched them argue and realized I was exhausted. My life had become a chain of decisions made by people who believed they were protecting me. My father had hidden evidence. Liam had hidden information. Alessandro's father had hidden a letter. Even Alessandro had withheld the inheritance trust until I demanded an explanation.
I raised my voice.
“Stop deciding what I can handle.”
Everyone turned.
“I am the person whose parents died. I am the person carrying this baby. I am the one who has to live with the consequences. I want the archive opened, the evidence copied, and every person involved identified. No more secret plans.”
Naomi nodded first. “Agreed.”
Alessandro looked at me. “Agreed.”
Liam was slower. Then he said, “All right.”
That night, Alessandro arranged for a doctor to visit. The examination was brief and private. The doctor confirmed the pregnancy was early and advised routine follow-up, rest, and a formal ultrasound in the coming week.
When she left, Alessandro stood near the bedroom door.
“Can I ask you something?”
I nodded.
“Do you want me to be part of this child's life?”
I looked at him. “I don't know what kind of father you'll be.”
“Neither do I.”
“You can't buy your way into being one.”
“I know.”
“You can't make decisions about me because you're frightened.”
“I know.”
“And if I tell you to leave, you leave.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
I studied his face. “Then start by telling me everything you know about Matteo.”
Alessandro sat across from me.
“My father built the company through acquisitions, political relationships, and a willingness to use pressure where other people used negotiation. I knew he could be ruthless. I didn't know he was arranging intimidation or falsifying charity accounts.”
“Did you ever suspect?”
“I suspected he was hiding something. I didn't know what.”
“That's convenient.”
“I know.”
He leaned forward. “I won't ask you to trust me because I'm the father of your child. I'll earn it, if you'll let me.”
For the first time, I believed he understood what I needed.
Then his phone rang.
Marco's voice came through, urgent.
“We found Victor Sloane.”
“Where?”
“Dead. His car was found near the river.”
I felt my hands go cold.
There was a second message attached to the report.
A photograph of Victor's hand, curled around a piece of paper.
May you like
On it, written in his blood, were two words.
Ask Sofia.
