Alessandro placed the financial report on the table.
"Someone has been paying him through a company connected to Vincent."
Victoria opened the file.
Her hands began to shake.
"Where is he?"
"I don't know."
She looked up.
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I believe your brother knows where Vincent is."
Victoria closed the file.
"You're going to use him."
"I'm going to find him."
"That's what men like you always say."
Alessandro looked around the apartment.
"Your brother disappeared after publishing his investigation."
"He was trying to expose your family."
"He was trying to expose my uncle."
Victoria stared at him.
"Do you expect me to believe there's a difference?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because my father was killed by the same man who destroyed your family."
Victoria became silent.
Alessandro placed his father's letter on the table.
She read it.
Then she looked at him.
"Your father knew."
"Yes."
"And he died before he could expose Vincent."
"Yes."
Victoria sat back.
For the first time, the hostility in her expression gave way to something more complicated.
"What do you want from me?"
"Help me find your brother."
"And what do I get?"
"Your brother comes home."
She studied him.
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise that nobody in my family will hurt him."
Victoria looked at the photograph of her brother.
Then she nodded.
"There's a place he used to go when he was a child."
"Where?"
"An old cinema in Queens."
***
The cinema had been closed for twelve years.
Its red sign was missing several letters, and the entrance was covered with advertisements for businesses that no longer existed.
Alessandro arrived shortly before sunset.
Marco accompanied him.
Victoria followed in a separate vehicle.
They entered through a side door.
Inside, dust covered the seats. A broken projector rested in the booth above the auditorium.
A single light was visible near the stage.
"Victor?" Victoria called.
A man stepped from behind the curtains.
He was thinner than the photographs.
His hair was longer.
But Victoria recognized him immediately.
"Victor."
He looked at her.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then he crossed the room.
She embraced him.
He held her tightly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Victoria began crying.
"Five years."
"I know."
"Five years, Victor."
"I know."
Alessandro remained near the entrance.
He did not interrupt.
Eventually, Victor released his sister.
Then he turned toward Alessandro.
"You're the Moretti."
"Yes."
Victor looked at him carefully.
"Your uncle told me you would come."
Alessandro's expression hardened.
"When did you last see him?"
"Yesterday."
"Where?"
Victor hesitated.
"At the old Moretti hotel."
Alessandro felt his stomach tighten.
"Why?"
"Because he wanted me to retrieve something."
"What?"
Victor looked toward Victoria.
Then back at Alessandro.
"A document."
"Which document?"
"The original adoption record."
Alessandro stared at him.
"Why would he need it?"
"Because Vincent intends to claim that your father was never legally part of the Moretti family."
The implications were immediate.
A legal challenge could freeze the family trusts, destabilize the businesses, and divide the people who depended on Alessandro.
But there was another problem.
"Where is the document now?"
Victor swallowed.
"With your wife."
Alessandro became perfectly still.
"What?"
"She received it three days ago."
***
Back at the hospital, Isabella was reading a message from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph.
She recognized the room immediately.
The old Moretti hotel.
The room where Alessandro had proposed.
The photograph showed a small wooden box beneath the floorboards.
A second message followed.
YOUR HUSBAND DOES NOT KNOW WHAT HIS FATHER LEFT BEHIND.
Isabella looked toward the door.
A nurse entered.
"Mrs. Moretti?"
"Yes?"
"Your husband asked me to bring you something."
The nurse placed a small envelope on the bedside table.
Then she left.
Isabella opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
If you want to understand why your child is in danger, go to the hotel. Come alone.
She read it twice.
She knew she should call Alessandro.
She knew that going anywhere alone would be reckless.
But the message included a photograph of the baby ultrasound she had received the previous week.
Someone had access to her medical records.
Someone was close enough to watch her.
She called Alessandro.
The call went directly to voicemail.
She tried Marco.
No answer.
Then she looked at the envelope again.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
But the paper carried the Moretti family crest.
She understood that the person who had sent it wanted her to believe it came from inside the family.
She also understood that the person might be telling the truth.
***
At seven thirty, Alessandro received the call.
"Where is Isabella?"
Marco answered immediately.
"At the hospital."
"No. She's not."
Silence.
Alessandro stood.
"What do you mean?"
"The nurse says she left twenty minutes ago."
"Who authorized it?"
"Nobody."
Alessandro closed his eyes.
For one second, the entire room seemed to disappear.
Then he turned toward Victor.
"Where is the hotel?"
Victor looked at him.
"You're too late."
Alessandro seized the front of his jacket.
"Where?"
Victor gave him the address.
Marco was already moving.
"Get the cars."
Alessandro released Victor.
"Bring him."
Victoria stepped forward.
"You're not leaving me here."
He looked at her.
"Stay with your brother."
"Alessandro—"
"Your brother has spent five years hiding from a man who knows every corner of this city. Don't make me protect two families tonight."
He left.
***
The old hotel stood on a quiet street in lower Manhattan.
Its exterior had been restored, but the interior remained unfinished.
The original staircase was still there.
So were the dark wooden floors and the large windows overlooking the street.