A second photograph showed him meeting a man outside a closed restaurant.
Alessandro recognized the man immediately.
"Where did you meet him?"
Daniel's eyes moved toward the photograph.
"I don't know him."
Alessandro said nothing.
Silence was one of the few weapons he trusted completely.
Eventually, Daniel spoke.
"He told me it was just a warning."
"Who?"
"The man in the photograph."
"What kind of warning?"
"He said nobody would be hurt."
Alessandro's eyes narrowed.
"Then why did you bring poison into a room where my pregnant wife was standing?"
Daniel began to cry.
"I didn't know she was your wife."
The words seemed to settle over the office.
Alessandro stood.
Marco looked at him.
"Boss?"
"Get the laboratory results. Find the man in the photograph."
"And the waiter?"
"Keep him alive."
Alessandro opened the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to my wife."
***
Isabella had been taken to a private sitting room.
She was sitting on a cream-colored sofa, holding a glass of water.
Victoria stood near the window.
Neither woman spoke when Alessandro entered.
He looked at Isabella first.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded.
"Did they find anything?"
"Yes."
"Was the drink dangerous?"
"Possibly."
Her fingers tightened around the glass.
"Possibly?"
"The laboratory is checking it."
"Alessandro, stop speaking to me as though I'm one of your employees."
He closed the door.
Victoria moved away from the window.
"She's right."
Alessandro looked at her.
"You've said enough."
"No. I haven't."
Isabella stood carefully.
"Both of you, stop."
The room fell silent.
She looked at her husband.
"Who is Elena Rossi?"
Alessandro hesitated.
"She was my father's accountant."
"Why was she at a clinic with you?"
"Because she was sick."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because she asked me not to."
Victoria laughed.
"That's a convenient explanation."
Isabella turned toward her.
"Do you know her?"
"Yes."
"Then tell me."
Victoria looked at Alessandro.
He gave no indication that he would stop her.
"Elena was the person who managed the financial records for your husband's father. She worked for the family for almost fifteen years. When his father died, she disappeared."
Alessandro's voice was cold.
"She didn't disappear. She was forced out."
"Because she discovered the truth."
"What truth?"
Victoria took a breath.
"Your husband has spent years telling people that his father died from a heart attack. But the night he died, he was preparing to hand over evidence to federal investigators."
Isabella looked at Alessandro.
He did not deny it.
Victoria continued.
"Elena witnessed what happened afterward. She knows who entered the house. She knows who removed the documents. And she knows who ordered the investigation to disappear."
Isabella slowly sat down.
"Who?"
Victoria's voice became quieter.
"Someone inside the Moretti family."
Alessandro approached the window.
Outside, the city continued moving.
Cars passed beneath the hotel. People walked along the sidewalks carrying shopping bags. Somewhere, a taxi driver was arguing with a passenger.
Ordinary life.
A world Alessandro had never completely belonged to.
"Victoria," he said, "if you know something, say it."
She looked at him.
"Your uncle."
Alessandro turned.
"Uncle Vincent has been dead for eleven years."
"His funeral was eleven years ago."
The distinction was deliberate.
Isabella looked confused.
"What does that mean?"
Victoria removed another photograph from her bag.
It showed an older man standing beside a black car.
The image was grainy, but the face was unmistakable.
Vincent Moretti.
Alessandro's father's younger brother.
A man whose funeral had been attended by three hundred people.
A man whose death certificate had been signed by a private physician.
A man whose ashes had been buried beneath the Moretti family mausoleum.
Alessandro took the photograph.
His fingers tightened around its edges.
"Where did you get this?"
"Three weeks ago."
"Where?"
"Brooklyn."
He looked at the date.
It had been taken six days earlier.
For the first time that evening, Alessandro appeared genuinely unsettled.
"Who else has seen it?"
"Several people."
"Names."
"Alessandro, you're missing the point."
He stepped toward her.
"Then explain it."
Victoria met his gaze.
"Your uncle didn't die. He has been living under another identity. And he is the person who has been financing the attacks against your business."
Alessandro looked at the photograph again.
He remembered Vincent as a patient man with a gentle voice.
His father had trusted him.
The family had trusted him.
And on the night his father died, Vincent had been the last person to see him alive.
***
At eleven fifteen, the gala ended.
The guests were escorted from the building through separate exits.
The Moretti security team checked every vehicle before allowing it to leave.
Isabella was taken to the penthouse.
Alessandro remained at the hotel.
He had one question.
Why had Vincent waited eleven years?
Marco entered the office carrying a folder.
"We found something."
He placed it on the desk.
"Daniel's phone contained one message."
Alessandro opened the folder.
The message had been sent from an encrypted account.
It contained only six words.
THE WOMAN MUST NOT REACH THE CHILD.
Alessandro read it twice.
Marco watched him.
"Boss, what woman?"
Alessandro closed the folder.
"Elena."
"Why would they target her?"
"Because she knows something."
Marco hesitated.
"Something about the child?"
Alessandro looked up.
The question disturbed him.
"Find Elena. Now."
***
Isabella was waiting in the penthouse when Alessandro returned.
She had changed into a loose cream sweater and was sitting beside the fireplace.
The television was off.
The room was silent except for the soft ticking of the clock.
He removed his jacket.
"Why aren't you sleeping?"
"Because my husband almost let someone poison me at a charity gala."