Vincent said nothing.
For several minutes, the three men discussed business.
Elena could not hear most of the conversation. She was too far away, occupied with another table. But she noticed that Alessandro barely touched his food.
He appeared distracted.
Twice, he checked his phone.
Once, he looked toward the entrance.
Then Vincent leaned closer.
"Your father would have handled this differently."
Alessandro's expression hardened.
"My father is dead."
"His influence isn't."
"Be careful, Vincent."
The adviser leaned back.
"Of course."
A waiter approached with the wine.
Alessandro examined the bottle before allowing it to be opened.
"Who selected this?"
"The sommelier, sir."
"Send him over."
A moment later, the restaurant's sommelier arrived.
Alessandro examined the label.
Then the seal.
Then the glass.
He took a small sip.
"Good."
The sommelier relaxed.
Elena returned with a fresh plate.
"Would you like anything else, Mr. De Luca?"
"No."
She placed the plate down.
As she turned away, she noticed Vincent looking at her.
His eyes followed her for longer than necessary.
It was not the ordinary attention of a man observing a waitress.
It was recognition.
Or suspicion.
She could not decide which.
At 9:17 p.m., the restaurant's atmosphere changed.
A phone vibrated.
Marco looked at the screen.
His expression tightened.
He stood and moved toward the entrance.
Alessandro glanced up.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
"Marco."
The security chief returned to the table.
"We have a situation at the docks."
"Which dock?"
"Pier Forty-One."
Alessandro put down his fork.
"That property was transferred yesterday."
"Apparently, someone didn't receive the message."
Vincent looked up.
"Perhaps this is connected to the shipment."
Alessandro turned toward him.
"What shipment?"
Vincent hesitated.
"Your father's old account."
Silence.
The words seemed to settle over the table.
Alessandro looked at Marco.
"Get the car."
Marco nodded.
Vincent leaned forward.
"You're leaving?"
"Does that concern you?"
"Only because we haven't finished discussing the documents."
Alessandro slowly stood.
"Then you'll have plenty of time to study them."
He buttoned his jacket.
Elena approached with the bill folder.
"Mr. De Luca?"
Alessandro turned.
"Your dinner is covered, sir."
"I didn't ask you to cover it."
She glanced at the folder.
"Mr. Bennett said—"
"I know what Bennett said."
He took a black card from his wallet and placed it inside the folder.
"Keep the change."
"Thank you, sir."
He walked away.
Marco followed.
Vincent remained behind for a few seconds, watching Alessandro leave.
Then he looked at Elena.
"How long have you worked here?"
"Eight months."
"Your family?"
Elena frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"Just making conversation."
"My family isn't relevant to your dinner, sir."
For the first time, Vincent smiled.
It was a small, unpleasant smile.
"No. I suppose not."
He left the restaurant.
Elena watched the doors close.
She had a feeling that something had just happened.
Something that would not remain confined to the docks.
***
At 9:46 p.m., Alessandro returned.
He was alone.
His jacket was missing, and his shirt collar had been loosened. His face looked pale beneath the warm restaurant lighting.
Elena was carrying a tray of empty glasses when she saw him approach the booth.
"Mr. De Luca?"
He did not answer.
He lowered himself onto the red leather seat.
His right hand moved toward his stomach.
Then he stopped.
For a moment, he stared at the wineglass in front of him.
"Water," he said.
Elena approached.
"Of course."
She poured a glass.
He lifted it.
His fingers trembled.
The glass slipped.
It shattered against the table.
Alessandro's eyes widened.
He tried to stand, but his knees failed.
His body collapsed backward.
The restaurant went silent.
Marco was nowhere to be seen.
Vincent had already left.
And Elena was the first person to reach him.
"Mr. De Luca!"
She dropped her tray.
A dozen glasses broke across the floor.
She knelt beside him.
"Can you hear me?"
Nothing.
His breathing had become irregular.
She shouted for help.
The nearest security guard rushed over, but his first instinct was not to assist.
It was to look around.
"Nobody moves."
Elena stared at him.
"Are you insane? Call an ambulance!"
The guard reached for his radio.
She checked Alessandro's pulse.
It was weak.
His skin was cold.
"Sir, stay with me."
She placed a folded napkin beneath his head and called toward the kitchen for medical assistance.
The guard finally spoke into his radio.
"Medical emergency. Main dining room."
Elena leaned closer.
"Mr. De Luca, can you hear me?"
His lips moved.
She lowered her ear.
"Don't..."
"What?"
His fingers caught the edge of her sleeve.
"Trust..."
His voice disappeared.
Then his hand fell.
Elena looked at the people surrounding them.
"Please, someone help!"
She noticed the water pitcher on the table and reached for a clean cloth.
As she leaned forward, his shirt opened slightly.
The tattoo became visible.
A crowned wolf.
Broken chains.
A silver cross.
Elena stared.
Her mother's jewelry box appeared in her mind.
The old photograph.
The symbol.
The name written on the back.
Luca De Luca.
She had never understood why her mother had kept that photograph.
Now she was looking at the same symbol on the chest of a dying man.