"What?"
"Just for a few days."
"No."
"Daniel—"
"I'm not a child."
"I know."
"Then stop treating me like one."
She took a breath.
"Someone has threatened us."
Daniel's anger disappeared.
"Who?"
"I don't know yet."
"Then call the police."
Elena looked at him.
She thought about the eleven-year-old investigation.
The closed case.
The missing evidence.
The photograph of her father beside a man who had never been charged.
"Maybe I will."
But she knew she wouldn't.
Not until she understood what her father had left behind.
***
At the Moretti estate, Vittorio was preparing dinner.
The family residence stood behind iron gates on a wooded property outside the city. Its stone façade had been imported from Italy, its gardens designed by a landscape architect, and its security system was more sophisticated than that of several government buildings.
Vittorio sat at the head of the dining table.
His wife, Isabella, sat to his right.
Their son, Matteo, was absent.
"Alessandro is awake," Isabella said.
Vittorio cut into his steak.
"Apparently."
"Are you going to visit him?"
"No."
"He's your brother."
Vittorio looked up.
"Thank you. I had forgotten."
She placed her fork down.
"You don't have to be cruel."
He smiled.
"Cruelty is such an ugly word."
"What would you call it?"
"Honesty."
Isabella looked toward the dark windows.
"I heard the police are asking questions."
"They ask questions every day."
"About the Belladonna."
Vittorio stopped eating.
"Who told you?"
"One of your men."
"Then perhaps you should stop listening to them."
She looked at him.
"Did you do something?"
Vittorio placed his knife and fork neatly beside his plate.
"Do you remember when we first married?"
Isabella said nothing.
"You told me that you admired my patience."
"I did."
"That was before you understood what patience meant."
He leaned back.
"I waited eleven years, Isabella. Eleven years while my younger brother sat in Father's chair and pretended that the world belonged to him."
"Alessandro never wanted the chair."
"That was the problem."
Vittorio's voice became colder.
"He never wanted power, yet everyone gave it to him. Father loved him. The men respected him. The politicians feared him. Even the enemies who hated our family preferred dealing with him."
He looked at her.
"I built half of what we own."
"And he built the other half."
Vittorio smiled.
"Exactly."
A servant entered.
"Mr. Moretti, your brother is here."
Vittorio's expression did not change.
"Show him in."
Alessandro entered a moment later.
He was wearing a dark suit, although his movements were slower than usual.
Luca followed.
Isabella stood.
"Alessandro."
He kissed her cheek.
"Isabella."
"How are you feeling?"
"Better."
Vittorio remained seated.
"You look terrible."
"You always were observant."
Alessandro pulled out a chair.
"Can we speak privately?"
"Of course."
Vittorio stood and led him into the library.
The door closed.
For several seconds, neither brother spoke.
Then Alessandro placed a photograph on the desk.
It showed the water glass from the Belladonna.
A faint mark could be seen beneath its rim.
Vittorio looked at it.
"What's this?"
"Evidence."
"Of what?"
"Attempted murder."
Vittorio laughed.
"You're accusing me?"
"I'm asking a question."
"Then ask."
"Who arranged the water service?"
Vittorio shrugged.
"The restaurant staff."
"Who hired the new bartender?"
"I don't know."
"Who instructed the security team to erase the cameras?"
Vittorio looked at him.
"Are you finished?"
Alessandro leaned forward.
"Antonio Rossi."
The older brother's face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"Why are we discussing a dead man?"
"Because you killed him."
Vittorio's smile disappeared.
"You should be careful."
"I was careful for eleven years."
"And look where it got you."
Alessandro looked directly into his eyes.
"Where are the records?"
Vittorio said nothing.
"The original shipping accounts. The transfers. The names of the men you paid. Where are they?"
"Perhaps Antonio destroyed them."
"He didn't."
"Then perhaps you should ask his daughter."
Alessandro's expression hardened.
Vittorio smiled.
"Ah. So you have met her."
"Leave her alone."
"That sounds almost like a request."
"It is an order."
Vittorio laughed.
"You still think you're the boss."
Alessandro rose.
"I am."
"Not for much longer."
The two brothers stood facing each other.
Vittorio stepped closer.
"You were always Father's favorite. Do you know what he told me on his deathbed?"
Alessandro remained silent.
"He told me that I was capable of running the family."
Vittorio smiled.
"He told me I was ready."
"Father was dying."
"He was perfectly aware of what he was saying."
"Then why did he give me the ring?"
Vittorio's expression became ugly.
For a moment, the pleasant mask disappeared completely.
"Because he was afraid of me."
Alessandro said nothing.
"He knew what I was capable of. He knew I would never accept a life beneath you."
He moved closer.
"You should have let me have the family."
Alessandro looked at him.
"You had the family. You wanted everything else."
Vittorio's eyes narrowed.
"Go home, Alessandro."
"Not until you answer my question."
"Then stay."
He opened the library door.
Two armed men stood outside.